Last night, Adam and I headed out to Galveston, TX for a week at the beach house with his parents, brother, and sister-in-law. Of course, nothing really goes off without a hitch when it comes to Adam and me. We left Montrose at around 9 PM last night, only to end up with a flat tire and in the middle of scary-ghetto-middle-of-nowhere area somewhere off of 288.We drove for a little while, trying to find somewhere that we could pull into that wasn’t scary and dark. We eventually found a very questionable gas station, but the lights shut off right as we got ready to change the tire. There were a bunch of people meeting in the parking lot there, so I rushed Adam into the driver’s seat and we took off at a shocking 20mph. Zoom-zoom-zoom!
We eventually found another gas station, some guy from the other one came up to us there too, I got a police offer to stick around until our flat was changed, and then we were off. A while later, though, the tire was making terrible sounds…so we pulled into another gas station and I got out and had Adam circle the parking lot so I could see what was wrong with the spare. Turns out that it wasn’t bolted in properly. Heh.Anyway, we eventually made it to the beach house at around 0130 last night. We worked on the traditional yearly Thanksgiving 1k piece puzzle. Matt & Marie (Adam’s brother & his wife) will be coming down for the day, then coming back for the rest of the week on Tuesday. It’ll be a full house.
Look at the pictures. I’m gonna go enjoy the beach. ;]
Last week, my history professor told us that we were going to have show and tell this week. I haven’t done show and tell since…what, first grade? If even then. There were just a few rules, though.1.) It cannot be an animal
2.) If it is considered a weapon, it must not be illegal.
2a.) It doesn’t have to be legal here…it just has to be legal somewhere.
2a explanation.) Why? Because of past show and tells where a college student did something like a whale harpoon that deployed and ended up stuck in the classroom wall — coming out the other side of the wall in another class room, inches from someone’s head. Oh, and that one guy who wanted to teach the class how to make a pipe bomb…by demonstration. The professor simply reminded the student that he’d forgotten the materials in his truck and that it wouldn’t be necessary to open that back-pack he brought to the front of the class. Oh, no, don’t worry kid — you’ve definitely still got an A.
So I brought my dad. Why? Because he’s the most incredibly man in the world. He’s like Superman, but he survived everything without super powers. So, technically, I think he’s better than Superman. Yeah, I said it, Clark Kent! Booyah!
Anyway, my dad came into class and sat in the front row with me while we watched other students bring up their show and tell items. One girl did the worm, showing us that carpet-covered concrete knocks the breath out of you; another girl showed us her diaper wreath for her expecting friend; a guy showed us a hole in his chest that you can pour milk into and eat cereal out of (he uses it to break up with girls)…most interesting class ever.
My father and I stood at the front of the class as I introduced him and passed out photos of the U.S.S. Pensacola that he’d served on while he was in the Marines (he’d spent 4 years in the Marines and 4 years in the Navy). In 1976, the U.S.S. Pensacola left Norfolk and made its way down to the Bermuda Triangle on a mission to carry soldiers to Guantanamo Bay in Cuba. The Bermuda Triangle’s high magnetic fields caused permanent damage to soldiers — mentally. There are soldiers who are still in wards due to the paranoia they experienced. They were lost for 3 days, tied to the boat.
Why did they go to Guantanamo Bay? Cuban citizens were rushing the American…something or other. I can’t remember. Anyway, the soldiers were told not to let them in, at all costs. He didn’t talk about this in class, though. He’d told me about it a long time ago when I’d asked him why he had so many nightmares. It was because of standing guard outside and watching men, women, teenagers, children, and toddlers die. He also talked about his training as a tunnel rat in Vietnam.
My dad is awesome. Not just because he was an amazing soldier, but because he’s simply an awesome dad. And I got an A. I’ve also never felt more compelled to go back to training for the Air Force. I almost want to simply join now and finish school while I’m in.
I’ve really never felt more proud to have him as my father.
So the night before last, Logan and I talked until 4:30 AM. About what? Al Gore, of course. But not just anything about Al Gore — no, this was about Al Gore as he really is. Living in an attic. Specifically, my attic.
I told Logan about how my attic sometimes opens on its own without explanation. I’ve tested the springs on the door, the ladder, tried various forces in order to move it down…it would take quite a bit of force to move it, especially with such control, and a shift in pressure doesn’t seem to be a plausible cause.So what does Logan do? Play the comforting male, of course. He tells me that someone is probably living in my attic. And what do I do? Freak out as soon as the old house creaks again. Not only that, my mother and father just bought me a 65″ mirror to put over my dresser. But it’s so large that I can’t put it up on my own, so it’s leaning up against the wall opposite the foot of my bed. I’m not used to it being there, so I naturally flipped out when I saw this figure moving around near the foot of my bed. It took my a minute to realize it was me.
To make things worse, my bedroom door hadn’t closed properly and slowly swung open…so that figure at the foot of my bed leaped up at the same time I did! I panicked, dove across the bed to my door, slammed it shut, then whirled around to face the figure that wasn’t there anymore. Let’s just say that it took me quite a while to relax.
Then we build on Al Gore. It’s not just that Al Gore lives in my attic…he’s also a zombie. Not only that, he’s a zombie clown — no! He’s a zombie mime! Far worse than a clown! And he has hair that’s like straw dipped in french fry grease! And he steals Adam’s boxers and watches him in the shower! This was by far the most disturbing conversation that I’ve ever enjoyed. Yes. Enjoyed. But now I’m scared of my attic.
Now, Logan’s required to come exterminate Al Gore. We also have a list of things he should do/places he should visit. He moved to Houston a year ago in February from Louisiana and still hasn’t done some necessary things.
1.) Remove Al Gore from my attic
2.) Go to Galveston
3.) Go to Galveston’s historic district and ride the trolley
4.) Go to a concert at one of the large venues here
5.) Texas Rodeo
6.) Go to the watch shop
7.) Go bowling
8.) Visit the Museum of Natural Science
9.) Fine Arts Museum
10.) Holocaust Museum. I just added this one on, because I feel it’s necessary.
11.) See Guy Forsyth
12.) Go to the House of Blues
13.) Go to the Improv
Mhmm. It might take a while, but we’ll knock all of those off at some point.
Then, last night, I was falling asleep on the phone…then woke up at 7 AM with the phone still in my hand. When I got to work today, we had the following conversation:
elliebeamarie: i don’t remember the end of our conversation.
elliebeamarie: Good morning, by the way. :]
Logan: Good morning to you too
elliebeamarie: Did you sleep well?
Logan: What do you remember
Logan: Yes, like a baby
elliebeamarie: Rambling, then sleeping.
Logan: Good, because you said some silly stuff hehe. Just kidding
elliebeamarie: Do you remember hanging up?
Logan: I think so. I think you were snoring so I took it you were asleep
Logan: Yup, you should blog it hehe. Oh yeah, you said something about blogging the now 11 places I have to go to, watch store included.
elliebeamarie: Plus Al Gore. I may do it over lunch.
elliebeamarie: …was I really snoring?
Logan: Wasn’t a loud snore though, a cute one.
elliebeamarie: But snoring!
Yes, world, snoring. This is the second person who’s confirmed that I snore. My face flushed red and I wanted my desk to swallow me, because I’m just that ridiculous. Mhmm.
The bad part of my morning so far? My family is getting together (all of us together for once!) for Thanksgiving. My dad just told me that he may have to work on Thanksgiving…and it sent me into a girly fit of tears. Yup. I sunk down in my big rolly chair and wished my desk would swallow me again. Who cries at work? I mean…seriously.
Anyway, I’ve got billing to do.
I moved out when I was 17. I quite honestly never realized how badly I would miss my family until recently — at 20. I mean, sure, I’d occasionally get that nagging feeling and wish that I could talk to one of them, but I didn’t really pay attention to it. Now, I’m working full time, going to school, barely keeping up with the normal daily things, and I rarely get to talk to them, ever. Now my sister has a crush, she’s turning 17, starting college in January…and I really wish that I could figure out a way to spend more time with her. I don’t want to miss out on more than I already have.
So, this Thanksgiving is going to be pretty interesting. I’m going to the beach house with Adam and his family. I’ll be by myself on Saturday and Sunday, since I have class on Sunday, then I’ll stay at the beach house from Sunday night to Tuesday afternoon, when I’ll come back for class…then go back to the beach house so that I can have Thanksgiving with them the next day, then drive back to my parents’ the same day for Thanksgiving dinner with me family, and then go back to the beach house again. It’s going to be eventful…and will kill me on gas.
Anyway. Off to wake up Adam.
I’m moving things around so that I can have everything in one spot…so this is an older post that I had on FB.
I was walking along one of the pathways at the college today, on my way to history class. There were hardly any other people around — not surprising at 6:45 PM on a Tuesday evening. My purse kept hitting my books as I walked, so I had to keep adjusting the load I was carrying. I looked up, after settling my books for the third time, and glimpsed a familiar figure through the trees.
I tend to dislike running into people that I haven’t seen in a while. I find that I get a little awkward and rushed and nervous, because I don’t want to appear rude, even though it’s making me appear rude anyway. Anyway, I sidestepped a few times so I could actually see her as she came closer. I realized that, yes, I did know her. She had been a translator for a deaf girl in one of my first math classes. She has long white hair and always talks with her hands along with her voice.
My books began to slip again, so I used that as a private excuse that would keep me from making eye contact with her, even as our pathways crossed at a small intersection. I looked up, remembering that I would need to see her in order not to actually physically run into her. It turned out that she was ten feet away from me anyway, so we made eye contact.
She smiled when she looked at me, and I smiled back.
“Hi,” She said, nodding at me as she strolled along.
“How are you?” I asked, forcing a smile and straightening up as I walked.
“I’m fine, how are?”
“I’m doing well, thank you,” I smiled again as she walked past.
That was when I realized that even though I’d seen her daily for three semesters, she didn’t recognize me.
And then I realized that it happens a lot.
Then I rationalized that she sees hundreds of students every day.
But then I remembered having lunch with her outside of school.
I turned around, half hoping she would somehow recognize me. I ended up staring at her long braid swishing as she walked away from me, down the little hill and off to the theatre building.
And then I forget her name, and I decided that was okay.
I was 7 years old when I first heard about “snail mail” from my mother. She worked at the post office at the time. I’d also decided that I desperately wanted to go to Africa. What did I do? I dragged a big box to the front door where we kept all of our outgoing mail and scrawled “Please snail mail to Africa” on it in magic marker. Then I instructed my sister, who was 3 at the time, on how to tape up the box. She couldn’t use scissors yet, so I cut them for her and she put the pieces on one at a time. She also had to climb up on a chair in order to reach. Tiny lil’ thing.
Once that was done, my brother came up and asked what we were doing. I told him I wanted to go to Africa so that I could bring back a giraffe and diamonds. So he opened the box and put some canned vegetables in and a jug of water (we were doing a food charity drive for kids in Africa, so he thought I could get them there faster). I thought that I was very well prepared for my trip. Then he opened the front door, pushed me out the door and down the sidewalk to the curb, where we all sat and waited for the mailman.
The mailman arrived and proceeded to tell my brother that he (the mailman) couldn’t carry the big box by himself. Then he proceeded to inform us on how the package should be properly shipped. They then had a quick snack on top of the box…I was still in the box. So my sister poked food through the holes that I’d cut out of the sides, ‘cause I thought I’d suffocate if I didn’t have them.
So it’s 12:17 and I’m still awake. I should be in bed, considering I work 8 – 5, M – F. But no, I’m awake. Why? Because Adam (my best friend & roommate) and I went running last night…and now I hurt so bad. I’m walking funny. My calves burn and once I sit for a few minutes I can’t stand straight up. I have to hold still for a few seconds and slowly straighten out my legs.
Adam’s in bed. He’s wonderful.
Logan just logged off. I’ll talk to him in the morning.