Not a lot, mind you. It seems I have the alcohol tolerance of an elephant, or something. The last couple of days I've just been craving beer-like beverages. I shall chalk this up to menstruation. The myth is that women crave chocolate. Some do. I don't, and crave beer instead. Bite me.
Part of this might also be due to the crazy fluctuations in my stress level. I discovered on Tuesday that I'm going to survive this week, because my presentation and all isn't going to happen until after spring break. For this I am immensely grateful, because I realized just how impossible it is to write a 12-page midterm, read a 200-page book, and develop a half-hour presentation in one day. I guess I could, you know...if i could stop time. That might be a good superhero power to ask for if, one day, they ever happen to be distributing those.
As it is, I have to do a lot of this over spring break. Despite the fact that I don't have internet access at home, this won't be so bad. Bunnyman has the week off for vacation, and my need to do work might make him have to come over and spend time with my parents as I leech their wireless from them. There's an odd sort of growing animosity between Bunnyman and my mom, mostly because she says really stupid things and doesn't think about the consequences of saying them. Maybe mom's presence can reassure him that she doesn't really hate him. She's just stupid.
I also found out that we're going to be moving sometime in the very imminent future. This has been causing a bit more stress to fall into my growing pile. I come here, and am preoccupied with schoolwork, but at home is a growing possibility of all out war with my neighbors. It has escalated to the point that we're going to start boxing things up this week. By this time next year, I will likely be calling Bridgeport my satellite base of operations. Probably sooner than that, but certainly by next year. I think this'll be better for all of us. I had a dream the other night about getting in a catfight with Tammy (the alpha-neighbor-female). She was in a catfight, anyway, and I was martially dodging her blows and landing my own. I wonder if this is what I'd do in a real fight. At any rate, this can't be healthy, and I do believe it's time to move on. Neighbor landlords who extort you into paying their credit card bills (when they're making more money than you and can actually get credit cards), bitch at you when an overworked Bunnyman falls asleep and misses his invitation to the bar, and routinely leave the Kiddo to her own devices while they go to a basketball game or the carnival or wherever without her, suck. Nuff said. I think they've done enough emotional damage to Kiddo to just warrant us leaving. But, eh, whatever. They suck. I shall fill Kiddo full of hateful thoughts towards them at a later date. No, that's not true. I'll let her come up with her own.
Speaking of Kiddo. I found her bio-mom's home phone number on the internet. Oh, how I love the internet! Her mom gave her calling cards for Christmas, telling her that she can use them to call her. Whenever she wants. So they can talk. Her mom is evil for too many reasons to list here, child abandonment among them, and we thought it rather interesting that she failed to give Kiddo her phone number with these calling cards. So I found it on the internet, and suggested she give her mom a call. Wasn't she surprised....
Oh, what a good other-woman am I. Ha!
In other news, eggcorns make for good linguistic amusement. People reformat language to suit their own understanding.
And LimeWire won't work. Bastard P2P hinderers...
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