Before you know it, you're the crazy cat lady in the scary house

Help Me

June 03, 2003 ... 9:16 p.m.

Help Me.

Bootsie: �I bet guitarists are reeeeeeaally good with their hands.�

Jade. Hi.

And here I sit in my lovely Composition class. Discussing censorship. And listening to Eminem.

My prof doesn�t know the basic history of our country, but the man knows his pop culture. Woo.

I�m splitting my time between writing letters, this entry and, every so often, appearing to pretend to care about whatever it is I�m supposed to be learning. Which goes something like this: pause, make concerned face, make eye contact with prof, wrinkle brow, return to distracting computer stuff. Jeez. Censorship bad. Eminem good. I get it, okay?

And no one is IMing me. Fine. Be that way. See if I sign your guestbooks or send you happy e-mails again.

Maybe I should have specified 6-9:30pm, Central. Does that make a difference? Anyone? Bueller?

My glasses broke this morning. Damn glasses. Damn astigmatism. They just broke--I didn�t do anything. I was listening to my Philosophy prof lecture and *snap*...the right stem pops off. Just pops off. No warning, no provocation. I�ll wear my contacts for awhile, so it�s okay. But I like my glasses better, contacts are so much work. Well, not really. But, you know, I�m lazy. And now I�ll have to get up...like...an extra 30 minutes early. That�s a good portion of Jade Puget dream time right there.

What? He�s hot!

I took a survey today and get $40 for doing so. It was a chronic pain survey. I don�t have chronic pain, but now I have an extra $40.

I used to have a job along those lines. Y�all remember taking the SAT or ACT? ACT is based in Iowa City and I used to work for them. By taking the ACT test over and over and over. And over and over. Each time, there�d be a new question or a change in the multiple choice answer order. Most people took the test once. I took it once a week. And that was one of my better jobs.

Chauffi reminded of my days at the pool. Cherry Hill pool. Go ahead. Insert your own joke, I�ll wait. Remember my home-ec teacher named Cherry Dickey? She was so!

Anyway, I was at the pool three seasons. At the end of the season, we�d raid the concession stand and just fill garbage sacks full of candy. I think I still have some Gummi Lifesavers around. They�re probably petrified by now.

One time, my manager over-chlorinated the pool. We found it before the kids showed, but not before a couple of life guards dove in and came up with platinum hair and dissolved eyeballs.

This other time, we were visited by someone we dubbed �The Mad Crapper� for six weeks. I was helping open the concession stand and, there, against the wall was...yep...a...uh...log. And then it started appearing all over the pool area. Somebody would actually scale the fence to...um...do their business. Ew. Never found the culprit. I maintain it was my manager. Mostly because I didn�t particularly care for him, but I still think it was him.

Another time, there were two murderers trying to elude police and they ran towards Cherry Hill. We were located in the middle of several cornfields. We were so!

Hey! If we can build a baseball diamond in the middle of a cornfield AND make a movie about it--then we can build a pool in one!

ANYway, the police made us lock down. You know, in case the criminals tried to make off with our valuable chlorine and Laffy Taffy stores. The police checked our cars as we left the parking lot and warned us not to pick up any hitchhikers. Yeah. I needed that warning, there Officer Obvious. Because, as a petite, single, 16-year-old female who just spent several hours in an at-large-homicidal-maniac-induced-police-guarded-lockdown, my first instinct is to offer rides to strange men emerging wildly from roadside cornfields. I mean, wow! Talk about your near misses!

I have to go home now and make sure my sister is not burning Natalie Maines in effigy.

At least, not before I get the chance to try out my homemade marshmallows.

Currently Reading: Sophie�s World by
Yeah, yeah...I�m being responsible, doing the adult thing. Cripes. Responsibility sucks.

Listening To:...

7 ... 8