I have a little friend.

Her name is Beans. She talks in her sleep. Most of it is unintelligible. Most but not all. She said something along the lines of whazzupdude and the growled a bit before falling back to sleep.
Something about being awake all night in a room with someone who is asleep makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong. Like being awake is a violation. I don't sit around and watch the person, but I feel like there's something private about sleep, and if it's night, and someones asleep, I damn well should be too, and usually I'm not, which is fine when I'm in a room alone, which I generally am, but I really should sleep more, I realize that more when I'm in a room with someone else, if they're sleeping, I want to be sleeping too, and if they aren't sleeping, which they always are, I'd still like to be sleeping, because I like to sleep, and so does little Beans, she just told me so by making gargling baby noises and flapping her covers around and meowing at me, and she's asleep, and when you're asleep that's an OK response, even if you're 20, even if meowing is not species appropriate, you can get away with it because you're sleeping. I want to sleep. Meowwwwww :(

I have a medical condition

I have a medical condition or 5. I need to see a doctor. I have over 40 mosquito bites. I'm sick.
Shut the fuck up. Stop whining, stop worrying, you're thinking about it so much the baby making juices of your thoughts are going to impregnate you.
And then you'll die from complications from this non existant baby-birth.
Bite that mosquitos.

IAMGOINGTOJUMPOUTAWINDOWSOON

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Embarrassing

You know an embarrassing moment has gone too far when you can't think of one person in the world you'd want to tell about it.
Embarrassing moments usually agree with me. A few moments of slight discomfort for years worth of stories agree with me. For the first time I am in disagreement with an embarrassing moment. It's not agreeing with me now, and it's not going to agree with me later, tomorrow, 10 years from now, it's just not going to agree with me, and I don't like that, because this is probably the most ridiculous embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me, meaning it would make a great story, meaning my dignity can handle a lot, and now it has been castrated. Or something of the like.
Now that I've worked it up like this, now would be the perfect climactic moment to tell this embarrassing moment story.

And see, that's exactly why this embarrassing moment doesn't agree with me. Because now it's worked up, rightly so, and I will just never be able to say it. Because I have finally been outdone by embarrassment.
AND BECAUSE OF MY CASTRATED DIGNITY!

Enrich your life with Lykke Li

I'm Good I'm Gone is a good one by her to start with.

I'm sun burnt wicked bad. Being in the sun for 9 hours and being ridiculously white and not wearing sunscreen does that sometimes. I leave on Monday for my trip. My room is gross, probably moldy. I'm in a really bad mood. All of these are non-sequiturs. I just looked up how to spell that word, and it's still telling me I spelled it wrong. I feel like I'm getting dumber in general. Dumber, and more irritated. This is no fun. I should write when I'm ready to be entertaining. Like when I tell the small children to say something nice or say nothing at all.
I'm just saying nothing, so I'll just stop saying nothing.

Eye em zee glutonous peeg.

People tell me I oughta give you a piece of my mind.
Personally I think I've given you enough of me already.

Pushover

You didn't know it but
I gave you a deadline.
I gave you a deadline,
And you missed it.
You missed it,
And you'll never know it even existed.
You'll never know it because,
My deadlines extend as far as you can push them.
Extend my deadline and it becomes a lifeline,
Reaching its hand out to you as far as it can
And then farther still.
Convenient.

Insomnia

According to facebook, insomnia is the new cool malfunction to have. Everyone's statuses now are about how they can't sleep, and how much they hate their terrible, one of a kind, earth shattering 'insomnia.'
Ok. You're probably not actually an insomniac. You probably are just awake. And it's probably just late. And you're awake, and it's late, and you're still probably not an insomniac just because it's late and you're awake.
You're just awake late.
I just said that about 4 times. I don't know if I counted that correctly. Too much work.

I think it's because people find something deep and intellectual and sexy about insomnia.
It's something that makes you seem crazy, but not too crazy; no one wants statuses about how they're feeling slightly schizophrenic with necro-like tendencies. They want something like insomnia: something 'deep', something 'intellectual', and something nearly impossible for the average person to sustain.
That's understandable. It's a little ridiculous. But I'm not one to talk when it comes to trying too hard to appear deep or intellectual. Although, that being said, it seems like i've just talked about it for a good minute now.
It's past my bedtime.
Goodnight =)

Bum

Sometimes I'll laugh about you
Because you're the last thing that was funny.
Sometimes I'll talk about this time, or that time
Because it was the last time I had a time worth telling about.
Sometimes I'll cry about you
Because I'm a pussy.
Sometimes I hate you.
Because you make me suck at poetry.

I really don't like

This bald spot.
It's a tiny perfect circle, 6 inches in right where my part is. It's about .3 centimeters in diameter. I am displeased.

I have

A bald spot.

Picnic

Apparently, people like picnics.
Apparently, when people make picnic plans and other people fuck with their picnic, shit goes down.

I was at work today and no kids showed up. So instead, I was reading that book Speaking With the Angel by Nick Hornby, because apparently for every copy sold of that book one dollar gets contributed to the building of schools for autistic children, which means that I kind of was doing my job, my job is to help kids, that book helps kids, and it's probably better to read a book that implies I am inadvertently helping children and making the world a better place then a book that doesn't, and it happened to be the book I had with me and was in the middle of reading anyway, so I actually didn't plan that one out, at all, but it made me feel better about the fact that I was reading as oppose to doing my job.
ANYWAY.
It's about 12:15 now, and I've been Speaking with the Angel for about an hour and 15 minutes now. I meant to write that I'd been READING Speaking with the Angel for about an hour and 15 minutes, not that I was literally Speaking with the Angel for about an hour and 15 minutes, but I thought it was a worthwhile typo, so I don't really want to change it.
So it's 12:15 and I get a call from one of my...superiors...in the workplace...(she's not my supervisor and she's not my boss, but she makes more money than me and has authority over me so I don't really know what to call her but anyway, she called me.)
"There's a family who paid for and reserved the picnic area for their daughters birthday party, and another family has tried to take over 3 of their tabels and refuses to leave. The birthday party family has a permit with them to prove that they have rights to be there, so if you could kindly ask the other family to leave, that'd be great."
Ok.
So I get off the phone with my workplacesuperior and go outside to these two families fighting. I'm suppossed to break them up.
Hahahahaha.
I'm 5'5 and 133 pounds. I can play with children. I can answer phone calls. I can flush toilets for 4 year olds who say they don't know how. I'm also pretty good with talking to children who don't speak English. We talk through hand gestures. Gargling noises. Paint brushes. Anyway. The point is I don't break up fights.
I get out there and this pregnant lady is yelling at this other lady to get out of their picnic space, she's showing her permit and the family-whos-not-supposed to be there starts yelling back about how they've been there since six-in-the-morning-mother-fucker, and I'm like
"Hi there! My name's Elissa I work for the parks department I was just told by my boss...superviser...uhhh...well neither really she's kind of my--anyway I was told by her that you need to leave because this other family has a permit to be here."
They looked like they were about to laugh. Or punch me potentially.
Then this lady in the-family-who-wasn't-supposed to be there picks up her phone and calls someone.
"EXCUSE ME YES THERE'S A LITTLE RACIST CAUCASION GIRL HERE TRYINA KICK US OUT OF THE PARK COME IMMEDIATELY!"
Unnecessary.
I ran.
The yelling started getting really out of hand, and being a not racist person at all getting accussed of racism really sucked, and regardless of that, these people who weren't supposed to be there who were my responsibilty (haha) to kick off, were still there, my worksuperior person wouldn't pick up the phone, this woman who said I was racist was getting on the phone with the cops, so I ran inside and called them before she could.
I don't. like. cops.
I also don't like calling them.
Basically it was just a really shitty situation.
So these cops come, ask me questions, hours go by, these people won't leave and start a whole scene, start yelling at these cops, come inside and talk to my worksuperiorperson saying they want to take it to court...
IT WAS OVER. A PICNIC.
Apparently there was some talk about me getting beaten up. I am small indeed, and probably not a very satisfying prospect to beat up. Eventually they agreed I think, because I didn't get beat up.
What's funny is after hours and hours of sorting this shit out, both parties ended up continuing on with their picnics.
I would have gone home. And cried.
Seriously. Fuck picnics.

Lame

I'm probably going to end up saying awkwardly personal things in this blog. Actually probably not, they'll probably just be things I write assuming (*insert unfortunate person in said situation*) won't read, because, really, no one reads these things, right? Right, and then said unfortunate person will probably end up reading it, and i'll be like Why, Why did said unfortunate person read this statement, I thought no one read blogs.
And then said person will cause blog to suffer greatly.
i.e... i don't really know what a suffering blog would look like.
These two little girls at work today kept telling me I look like Megan Fox. Then one of them took out her cell phone and started taking pictures of me so she could tell her friends she met Megan Fox. Minutes later another little girl told me I should come join her while she was dancing in the middle of the room to Beyonce. She said it would help me lose weight. In response I told her I was Megan Fox. Megan Fox doesn't need to lose weight.
She laughed.
I proceeded to eat my chocolate frosted cupcake.
To console me, a little 4 year old girl told me to "Fear not, you are a croc-da-dile!"
"A what?"
"A Croc-do-dile!"
"A crocodile?"
"A CROCDODILE"
I told her I was sorry for my mispronunciation. She forgave me.
In theory I probably should have done something like correct her diction, but say the word crocodile. Ok, now say croc-do-dile. She wins.

Indeed

I have begun a blog.
Indeed.