thejunipertree: (Default)
I came across an entry in [livejournal.com profile] deadphotos this evening of two luna moths. Ghostly green and lying face to face on a weathered wooden plank, beautiful and strange in their alien gauze.

For those of you who have never seen one in person, luna moths, Actias luna, are goddamn gigantic. The largest generally having a four and a half centimeters wide wingspan, they dwarf the moths people are more commonly familiar with. The gypsy moth, what most people in my area think of when think "moth", is a mewling cousin in comparison.

I've been a bit obsessed with lunas ever since the first time I saw one, on a camping trip I went on about eight years ago with the Engineer and the MWC. It was the second time I'd ever gone camping since I was an honest-to-God Brownie and I was pretty psyched at the prospect of building a great big fuckoff bonfire in the fire ring spending some time outdoors with my friends.

On our way there, a two hour drive, the Engineer and I stole constant unhappy glances at an ever-darkening sky. Storm clouds loomed over the trees and the temperature dropped several degrees, but mile after mile deeper into the Pine Barrens, rain still did not begin to fall. It was a slow and torturous drive full of quiet So, what do you think we should do? exchanged between the two of us. Neither of us had a cell phone at that point, so we couldn't call ahead to the site and see what was going on there, as our friends had arrived several hours earlier. I couldn't leave work early enough that day and so the added threat of the oncoming night also weighed heavy on our minds. The weather was turning to shit and it was getting dark, these are not optimum set-up conditions. Who wants to put up a tent in the fucking rain and the dark? Not this silly bitch.

When we finally got to the campsite, it was full-on dark and fat drops of rain had been splashing down for the past twenty minutes. The Engineer and I grabbed our tent and bed gear, leaving everything else in his PT Cruiser until the rain stopped. From the our parking spot, we had a hike about the length of a football field to the camp site, which was situated off the tip-most point of a wee penisula jutting into Parvin lake. Oh, sure you're thinking. A football field length of a hike, you fucking crybaby. And normally, I would agree with you. It's not that far to hike at all. However, there are certain times when that bit of a jaunt through the woods seem more like a trek through the Appalachians.

1. in the dark
2. in the rain
3. in the middle of the night

All things considered, my vote for The Worst Ever is number three. Normally, I am lazy to the point of staying in bed until I am in physical pain before I get up too pee. The mad dash to the bathroom after a morning of blanket-wrapped don't wanna is mercifully brief. In my apartment. That "mad dash" because some serious fucking business when one is on a camping trip and is a special realm of hell I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.

First of all, we always camp in the spring and fall, so the middle of the night pee runs are usually done in damp, chilly weather. Damp and chilly weather is so not enjoyable when one has been curled under a down sleeping bag next to a snoring Engineer (seriously, he's like a fucking furnace). One particular camping trip in early April, a deceptively warm weekend had gone brutally cold overnight unexpectedly and we were so not equipped for that change of temperature. That time, I remember there being tears. Mine or the Engineer's, I will not divulge, but there were definitely tears.

But that night, that second-time-ever-trip of the rain and the dark and the hey hey hey? I remember walking down the trail for the first leg of unloading, it's pissing down rain and I can hear the Engineer mumbling unhappily under his breath ahead of me in the darklightdark bounce of my flashlight. We finally reached the site after a soggy dog's age and a half and I dumped the tent gear next to a line of brushes that started the natural, guarded perimeter of the peninsula. It was a great site and would prove to be extremely beautiful, come morning when the sun was out and it had stopped raining. As the bag hit the ground, I caught a flutter at their edge out of the corner of my eye.

Looking around the far edge, I found that I had just missed squishing flat a sodden moth the size of my goddamn hand, weakly waving its pale green and eyespotted wings in the rain. I'd never seen such a thing before in my life and forgot everything going on around me as I watched it twitching its antennae at my flashlight cutting beams through the dark. In my bookjunkie travels prior to this trip, I'd already read about luna moths and had found that they only lived in their adult form for a week and didn't have a mouth; so they didn't eat during that time, either. The handstapleforehead pretentious goth girl side of me that I've never been able to quite shake marveled at the impermanence of its life. To be so beautiful, for such a short period of time! It was tragic, a Grimm's come to life and before my very eyes.

With everyone situating themselves around the campsite, it needed to be put in a spot where it wouldn't be trod upon or squished unceremoniously flat by tossed gear (I still cringe at the thought of how close I came to unknowingly killing it, even now, so many years later). So, I took the time to select a nearby cove of shrubbery (hee, shrubbery) where it would be safe and as much out of the rain as possible.

That finally accomplished, I started the slog back to the Engineer's car to pick up more of our camp equipment. The rain had soaked through my braids and they were beginning to trickle down the back of my Dawn of the Dead hoodie, so I pushed back the hood and slicked my hands through my bangs, pushing them off my skin and turning my face to the tapering rain. I've always been a tactile creature, reveling in the feel of my fingers brushing down a perfectly smooth and cool surface or plunging my hands through the fabric of a dress on a store rack simply because it looks good to touch. Water in all its forms and methods of delivery has always been a favorite, so even though the conditions at the time were less than optimal, I still took the time to carve out a small moment of sensory enjoyment. I was already soaked through and it was fairly warm out, so what was the harm?

The Engineer caught me like that, face in the rain and grinning like a fool. A purely happy moment that I sometimes revisit when things get shittastic, as they have been lately. We've pulled mostly through and can see at least a bit of light at the end of the tunnel, but it's shaky. Money is tighttighttight, as always, and I'm starting school again next week after being out since I graduated from CCC in December. I have tense moments of quiet desperation and there is a constant sense of teetering, which have driven me into either a series of short and intense bouts of depression, or just one really long one with peaks and lows.

I come home from work snarly and make sure to rub Timothy's belly as soon as I get in the door. It is a tiny joy I wait for all day. I try to laugh as much as I can, when I can. I make elaborate-on-a-budget meals and have experimented with ingredients I've typically shied away from, purely for eking out the thrill I still get whenever I make something from nothing. Taking my little pleasures out wherever I can has largely kept me from going completely into the deep end lately.

I think of my moth; nothing is permanent.
thejunipertree: (Default)
I am tired and tired and tired again.

Been mucking around with Dreamweaver for the past few hours, in an attempt to get the MWC website in some kind of condition resembling presentable (unlike what it appears to be now, which is quite assy). A moment ago, I looked up from my labour and saw that it was half past one in the morning. An interesting phenomenon, time loss.

It's beginning to look half-decent and I really don't want to stop what I'm doing, but the hour growth and all that.

Last night, I got spin-headed on various kinds of ice wine and cheap faux-champagne. The ice wine was nice, especially that terribly expensive bottle TAL got for Mr. Ellis for his birthday a few months ago (which we finally opened last night), but it's a bit too sweet for me to get a good drunk with. I started to feel a bit queasy after my fifth glass and thusly, laid off the booze for a bit until I returned to the faux-champagne.

My best behaviour was quite evident, at least until almost everyone left. That's when I started to get shitty and riled up, thanks to a few pointed comments by those left in attendance. I growled, flailed my arms around, and spoke in hyperbole. I am prone to these things, even when not drinking copious amounts of alcohol.

Olives stuffed with anchovies. Who would have thought it? I could only eat a few, couple with chunks of farmer's cheese, before my body started to rebel. I love salt like a woman pining for a lost lover, but that was skating up against the edge of overkill.

Unfortunately, I was unable to wear my party dress for this get-together. I worked a full shift on Saturday and only had a handful of moments to feed and medicate my brood of animals before having to leave for Rowan's house. We were said that I wasn't dressed in finery, but my every-day clothes are fine enough for party presentation.

Despite the fact that my family doesn't really celebrate Easter in a good year, let alone a bad one like this, I almost had a full set of blood relatives in my living room this afternoon. The live-in brother was here, as usual, then the other brother came to the door to pass the pipe and talk about basketball and cars. My father, not their father, was on his way and I was a bit tense at the idea of the other brother being in the same room as him (for reasons that I don't even fully know), but his Tara's-father-is-coming sense must have kicked in, because he left not five minutes before the old man showed up.

My family...eh.

It's not that I don't care we're so scattered and far-flung, coasting around each other like dead and orange leaves. I do. Moreso, it's probably a case of me just learning to stop being so stressed over it. We are what we are. Nothing will change that, ever. My brothers and my father are all the blood-family that really matters to me, anymore. My mother's side of the family are cordially invited to walk a fucking plank since none of them have seen fit to contact me since Mom died, in November. My brothers' family, I don't know them at all and they're not even actually related to me in any true manner, other then by association. My father's side are all so much older then me that we're strangers, except for the only daughter (who I now work with). Strangers to the point that I bumped into a cousin of mine from that half at the vet's office during a Major Tom's tumour visit and almost didn't recognize him. I knew he was family, but was a bit unclear about his name. Luckily, it was embroidered on the shirt he was wearing, enabling me to call across the office to him. He immediately recognized me, however. And knew my name. Then again, I stand out from the lot of them (on both sides).

All of this serves nothing but to remind me that it's high time I fed the ancestors. Vodou-speak, if you'll forgive that. Ask and I'll explain readily, but I'm not up for typing it at this moment. This moment is for going to bed, which is what I'll be doing as soon as I'm finished with smoking my cigarette.
thejunipertree: (yarn insanity)
I am well on the way to having a bordello-style bedroom. This pleases me very much. First, my bedroom. Then, the rest of the apartment. Photos will be forthcoming, as soon as everything is completed. Be prepared to see a thousand shots of my famous eight-foot long leopard print couch, which I miss horrendously.

This weekend was spent shopping for things that I needed and haven't been able to get prior to this because I have been a bit broke (my loan refinance finally went through), helping drink seven bottles of wine at a party last night, and knitting like the devil.

If I ever manage to knit anything other then a scarf or a bag which has construction similar to that of a scarf, I will drop dead in amazement. Nothing else really strikes my fancy, not to mention that I just don't have the skill required. I don't plan on ever having said skill, either. It's just not something that interests me all that much, nor do I have the patience (or the time!) for it. Therefore, I am quite content to endlessly knit only scarves.

Currently, I'm working on one for Auntie Rowan (who already knows about it). The four I made earlier this month were distributed on Friday at my company holiday party, much to the envy of all those who went scarf-less. Angel wore hers all freaking day, despite the fact that it was a shade of purple and she never wears such a colour. Or so she says. I say it's a lie, because I've seen her in a purple shirt. She just doesn't want to admit to it.

The holiday party went rather well, to the surprise of myself, despite the potential for a shit-tonne of bitchcraft. The holiday bonuses, excuse me, gifts were handed out and I didn't hear any complaining, though that doesn't mean it didn't happen. The person who had me as their pollyanna gave me a gift certificate to MAC, so they aren't quite as evil in my eyes as they used to be.

The MWC holiday party, I refuse to say Yule, also went quite nicely. This is where I helped drink seven bottles of wine, two of them being ice wine, which I never really liked all that much before. We got loud and ate entirely too much party food, which I am still feeling the effects of.

Roll the ball. Roll the ball. Roll the ball.

urgh.

Now, I do believe I'm going to put one of my sets of new sheets on the bed, then get some sleep. Maybe read for a bit.
thejunipertree: (Default)
The Engineer: (telling me about a practical joke involving a bathroom stall, a ketchup bottle, and some oranges)

me: That's funny, but I think it would be funnier with an airhorn.

The Engineer: What's so funny about an airhorn?

me: IT'S AN AIRHORN!



heh.
Phase One of The Bad Members of the MWC's nefarious plan is now complete and on its way to my apartment.

argh.

Feb. 27th, 2004 03:04 am
thejunipertree: (cigarette mouth)
Fuck you, css. Goddamn style sheets.
I've had it with that crap.
Stupid web design.

If anyone wants to know where I am, I'm currently immersed in working on this cunting website I agreed to do for the MWC (my weekly meeting witchy group). Thought I was going to get all fancy and throw some style sheets at it, but the Design Gods had other ideas.

I'm usually a lot more positive about it, but this css style has really got my head turned around backwards. I'd rather learn something easier, like speaking Aramaic or how to play the bagpipes.

In better news, I have another job interview tomorrow. Strangely enough, I think it's for the same immigration attorney that I dealt with a couple of years ago when I was attempting to remove the kickban that the UK had placed on my passport. Weird!
thejunipertree: (Default)
For the first time in the entire duration of my and The Engineer's relationship, we made it to a First Friday in Philadelphia. Despite the fact that I wasn't much thrilled with going and despite the fact that I stupidly wore my five inch platforms for an evening of travelling by feet in an area of the city that does not believe in modern cement sidewalks; they're all cobblestones. And hilly as fuck. Sheesh.

Miss Robin joined us and we threw ourselves into an evening of our usual obnoxiousness.

Will you calm down? They're not going to run out of art!
Asslicker. Cocksocket, five dollars. Asslicker. Cocksocket, five dollars.
I am no longer having this conversation with you.

After stopping at Olde City pizza and being served by the world's most surly waitress, we trudged our way back to South Street to the TLA for the stellastarr* show. It was like old school night, up in that piece. I saw a number of people I haven't seen in ages, which is the norm whenever I show my face in the city (which is rarely). I even had the displeasure of spotting my very first roommate, known as Fuck-You-Todd, and smirking at him from across the bar.

Before the show, I ran into Commander Jurin and gave him a birthday present I had scared up for him, a stuffed bat which squeaks shrilly when you press its stomach. Though I suppose I would also squeak shrilly if you squeezed the fuck out of me, it was a good present and he seemed happy with it. Great! Now we've got a new mascot!

Standing in the bar, I run into Big Sam. Who I haven't seen in about three years or so? He lifted me from the floor in a giant bar hug, exclaiming over how good it was to see me and then introduced me to two girls who were standing there with them. One of them, Jill, said she had heard a lot about me. This drew a raised eyebrow and a step away, as whenever I hear something like that it usually means that someone has been talking a lot of shit on me. However, Jill is friends with Muridae (on my friends list) and she had told her about me. I told Jill the story of how Muridae and I originally started talking online, which started out with, "I know you! I've been in your house!" hee! I also ran into Miss Beth, which was unexpected and most pleasing.

A group of us lined ourselves across the front of the stage, in an effort to heckle the Commander as his mother and a few other relatives had come to town for the show. The crowd was semi-decent, though far too many of those bizarre neo-mods that seem to be following this band around. It did give us the chance, however, for Robin and I play to play "PunchMod", which is enormously fun.

The band was great, despite the fact that standing so close to the stage kind of warped the sound quality for me. The following band, the Raveonettes or whatever the fuck they're called, left me dry. I am wholly unimpressed with them, their sound, and even the way they look. Big fucking yawn, so we left a quarter of the way into their set and made our way to Zipperhead's with BlueMoonBaby.

The next day brought a road trip to my father's neighbourhood for me to pick up my new baby ferret, Howard Phillip (you can call him HP) and to pick up my smaller ferret cage from my dad's house. However, this wound up with me setting off my father's burglar alarm and the police showing up. oops.

Later that evening was Mister Kyle's (the same Kyle who directed the zombie movie we were in) party in the town I grew up in. Food was consumed, strange Asian drinks were drunk (one of mine had a marble in it and a warning list the size of your fucking arm, not to mention the instructions on how to open the goddamn bottle), and I hid on the deck as to avoid conversation with people I don't really know. Which didn't work all that well, as I was forced to make small talk a few times with absolute strangers, something that I despise doing. Not too bad, though it could have been better for me to not be such an unsocial fuck.

Today was my lecture on Lucifer for the MWC, which went sort of okay. I suppose if I wasn't forced to read by candlelight because we had our meeting outside and it got dark quicker then I thought it would, then it would have been better. I'd also like to note that I am an absolutely ASSY public speaker, regardless of whether or not I can see the words clearly. Anyone who says any different is seriously deluded, I'm just no damn good at it.

A long weekend, but an okay one. I'm currently sniffling like a fool because I had the ferrets out a little while ago, rough housing with them, and it made my allergies get all pissy with me. I think I may go take a long bath and read "Memoirs of a Swordswallower" before it gets too late.
thejunipertree: (Default)
I sometimes get myself into things that I have difficulty pulling off.

Case in point, volunteering to do a presentation on Lucifer to the weekly religious study group I belong to. Last year, I had volunteered to do a similar work. But, that one was actually on Luciferianism. However after attempting to research this for about two weeks and finding nothing but a bunch of crap webpages with dripping blood bars, I ditched that and asked to change the topic of my presentation to something else.

When we were working up our calendar of lectures/presentations the other week, I was feeling my oats and once again suggested I do a piece on Lucifer. My mouth opened before my brain could put a stop to it. Again!

My presentation is due to be done this Sunday. grr.

I've been researching for about three weeks now, but I'm coming up against the same brick walls that I did the first time go round. This time, however, I've at least managed a proper outline. I'm not entirely satisfied with it, though. And I'm not exactly happy with the information I've managed to gather, it's kind of lacking and I'm going to need to do some serious carny talk to get it to sound like something decent.

outline on Lucifer )
I'm also going to have to really pull something brilliant out of my ass for the opening and closing statements. Those have never really been strong points of mine in scholarly writing.

So far, I've written everything except for the sections on Luciferians, other deities similar to Lucifer, and the closing. I think I might actually take a break and finish this tomorrow afternoon. My brain is boggling.
thejunipertree: (Default)
I am the world's biggest sucker.

Today, one of the witchy group members called the Engineer and asked him if he knew anyone who'd like a rat. Specifically, a rat of the hairless variety. The Engineer, knowing what an obsessive dork I am, immediately thought of me and told the lady (I shall call her Lily, because she would like that) to bring the rats to tonight's meeting so I could meet them. Not thinking I'd actually immediately fall in love with them and practically cry right then and there because of how goddamn beautiful they all were.

So.

I was steadfast and firm. I was not coming home with a rattie. I don't really have the space for one. And I have so many free roaming mammals as is. I petted their backs with my fingers and scritched many ears and cooed over the curly whiskers.

Then, I made the biggest mistake.
I picked one up. The handsomest one with the white stripe down his nose.

Instant love.

I made a lot of the sad face and cuddled him. I whispered to him about how striking his ears were and how his curly whiskers were the best I'd seen. I repeated over and over "Hi! Hello little man! Hello!"

Yes.
I'm a dork.

I am also a dork who now has a hairless rat.
I named him Aardvark. Aardie, for short.

My mother is unaware of this development, as she was in bed when I got home. So, Aardie is upstairs, at the Engineer's apartment. Pictures to come later.
thejunipertree: (Default)
Argh. I am a tired one. I've been running ragged almost the entire weekend, from start to finish.

Friday night, I took the Engineer out to get his belated Valentine's day presents. Which was an entire set up for the California Kingsnake he's had his eye on. The pet shop we stopped into had one of the best fish selections I've seen in a long time. And I squeaked and oooohed over the spotted puffers. Chubby little faces and enormous eyes. I want about a billion of these little guys to act as my army of fishy minions.

After this, we were heading to his parents' house to pick up some things he had left behind in the move. On the way, I managed to drive through a pot hole so big that you could have buried a fucking dog in it. A BIG dog.

It was full of water, since all of the snow is beginning to melt, so therefore I didn't see it until it was too late (it was also at night). I jacked the car through the hole and heard a loud KA-BOOM! Heart in my throat, fearing that I bent the axle, I drove as carefully as I could to the Engineer's parents' house.

Only to find that I had a flat. Good, yes?
No.
The flat was caused by a bent rim.
I kicked some snow around and paced and furiously smoked a cigarette. Called my mother, explained the situation, repeated three times that I hadn't been speeding (my lead foot is quite notorious in this family), and waited for the Engineer to do his boy thing and change my tire.

I know engines. Not tires. I can find my way around almost any car engine and do all sorts of things that you wouldn't expect me to know how to do, but when faced with the outside of the car? I kind of cave.

grr.

My mom took it in to the mechanic on Saturday, and they confirmed it was indeed a bent rim which couldn't be fixed. A new one has been ordered and we'll be able to pick it up next Saturday. In the meantime, they've lent us an entire new tire with a non-fux0red rim so we're able to get too and from work without having to drive on a doughnut.

I feel like such a jack idiot for doing this to the car. argh.

Saturday, I was meeting Wemble for shopping. She needs to find shoes for her upcoming wedding and I wanted to look for saint statues. No shoes to be found, all the white ones we saw sucked, but I managed to buy three statues which are now quite happily at home on my altar. Gerard for the Baron, Patrick for Damballah, and Dymphna because I'm obsessed with her. hee!

Later that night, we ran upstairs to apartment 13 and hung out with The Priest They Called Him and the Engineer for Dagon and hentai. TPTCH's first foray into anime smut. Quite amusing. The rest of the night, I spent writing a presentation on the debunking of the Burning Times (hah!) which was presented earlier this evening (Sunday).

The presentation itself went well, despite the fact that I am an assy public speaker. The rest of this evening I spent cleaning up my altar space, cleaning the rest of my room, doing a virtual metric fucktonne of laundry and trying to keep my brain from exploding from my wee little skull.

Manic phase, all systems set to GO.
thejunipertree: (Default)
Updates. Hmmm. Updates. I haven't done this in a few days.

Friday: Halloween party at The Priest They Called Him's house. I, being the great procrastinator I am, had no costume prepared. At first I had the idea that I was going to dress as Lydia from Beetlejuice. With a big hat and black lace draped around it. But, I was starting to wonder what would be the difference from how I already look (other than the hat). Nevertheless, that evening I started to get dressed with the clothes I had picked out for the outfit. Only to become very unhappy about how I looked. Nothing seemed to fit or look right. So, those clothes were thrown onto the floor. Out of the closet I pulled the dark red velvet dress my mother had bought for Christmas so long ago. I've only worn it once before. Very Victorian-ish looking. So, I decided to wear that. After doing my makeup (black and smudged eyes, dark red lipstick), I figured I would pull my hair up into kind of pigtails with these huge black roses that I have, then I would have it sausage curled. Et Voila! I was going to be the girl from In the Shadow of the Vampire, the morphine addict. Too bad my hair decided to stage a protest about this decision. The right side didn't curl quite as well as we wanted and the left side curled EXACTLY how we wanted. Grr. I made do.

The Engineer showed up and we started to kit him out in his costume, which is my costume from last year (the prom queen). Many giggling fits ensued. He really is a very ugly woman. But, it gave me much joy to see and hear my mother laughing so much.

The party went well, despite some very big annoyances from other people there. One of which was a specific girl repeating over and over, "This is from my normal wardrobe. I would wear this any day, not just for costumes."

Uh-huh. Okay, toots. There's only room for one goth in this group. And the position has already been filled. ;)

Saturday: was Ghoulie's wedding. The wee Ninja was coming to pick me up at 12:30, though the wedding itself was at 3. I dressed vaguely similar to what I wore for the party, just not as heavy on the makeup. Wearing the red dress was a show of solidarity with Ghoulie for me, since she wasn't wearing black for once. I also told her this, after the ceremony, and she almost started to cry.

Everything seemed to go rather well, especially since the dickhead who had been invited (and who I did not like to very extreme degrees) never showed up. Hah! Ninja's brother got very very drunk. As did Blackjack, who seemed to be on a girl hunt.
"Where's all the weepy single broads?"

We took many, many photos. Some are slated to go up on the Art Conspiracy's section for members caught on film (there were many members at the wedding). One of the best points of my evening was getting to see the Commander, who I haven't seen in /quite/ some time. We had long hugs and giggling and our little inside jokes that no one else understands. I had missed him greatly.

At the end, my feet hurt from my granny boots. Ninja's feet hurt from her heels. We took them off and walked back to her car with Blackjack and her brother. Through Philly, nonetheless. Managing to miss all the mystery puddles was a sign that I was pleased with.

I came home, got changed into my angry little bat pajama pants and a tank top. Scraped my hair back from my face and vegged on the couch. I also fell asleep on the couch, and woke up at six in the morning disoriented and groggy. Putting myself in my actual bed was a feat of great strength, especially considering I would have to be up in an hour to give the cat his morning insulin shot.

After doing that, I went back to bed and pulled the blanket over my face. A warm dark cave. This is how I want all my days to be. Just sleep and dream.

Being woken up by the smell of my mother making chili, however, is also quite nice.

angry face

Apr. 28th, 2002 02:56 am
thejunipertree: (Default)
This evening was the lecture at the University of Delaware on Traditional Witchcraft and how Wicca got its roots from such. More to it than actually that. The speaker was a member of the Philadelphia OTO and had quite a few very good points that I actually agreed with. It wasn't fluffy bunny or unicorn humping, not by a small stretch. He even spoke about Gardner derived much of his rituals and influence from Crowley, the OTO, the Freemasons, and one of Margaret Murray's books "God of the Witches" (which has testimonies of people given under torture). Blackjack was also there, much to my surprise. I'd forgotten that he was a part of the Philly OTO and I then learned that the speaker was his lodge brother.

Fun stuff.

However.

And this is a mighty big HOWEVER. We had to ride up with a member of the witchy group that The Engineer runs and I am a member of. Said member is not on my list of favourite people. As a matter of fact, you could say that I downright detest her. She's rude, arrogant (and not in the good, humourous way like I can be. heh), full of herself and sanctimonious. Self righteous and full of shamanistic Rainbow Bridge bullshit. Once, when speaking to the Engineer, he'd told her he was studying historic black magick. "Why would you want to do something like that?!" was her answer. I didn't like her from the get go, even before speaking with her at any length. She made the hair on the back of my neck go up and that's always a sure indication that someone is just not meant to be hanging around me.

I didn't want her with us, but she'd emailed asking about carpooling. And I didn't really feel like going through the uncomfortable feeling of telling her no, then having to see her at the lecture itself. So, with us she went.

We arrived a bit late to the lecture due to traffic and me having to hit a food store (as I hadn't eaten all day long and needed water, to boot). The lecture cost ten dollars, but as we arrived late there was no one at the door to take money from us. Neither the Engineer, Wee Ninja (who was also in attendence), or I thought anything of this. More on that in a bit.

Throughout the lecture, said member grunted and uh-huhed and mmmhmmmed and yes'ed after parts that she felt needed emphasis. Wee Ninja later described it as feeling like she was at a Baptist church where people respond to the minister. Thankfully, as I was beginning to feel like a bitch for becoming annoyed at all of these sounds.

At the end of the lecture, she said something to the Engineer about paying. Since no one had approached us about it, we (Engineer and I, Ninja had no idea that you had to pay at all) figured to hell with it. If they weren't going to be organised enough to keep track of who's paying and who's not, then whatever. Yes, we're horrible and bad people. But, fuck it. If someone had came up to us and asked, then we would have cheerfully forked over the money. No one did, so we weren't volunteering anything. And since we'd arrived late and in full view of everyone, we knew that they knew that we hadn't paid.

*shrugs*
Fuck it, I say once again.

Said member didn't like this attitude one bit. Throughout her little speech to the Engineer about it, I turned away and made "blah blah blah" noise, as I was getting tired of her crap.

Blackjack, Engineer, Wee Ninja, and I went outside for a smoke. "Are we leaving?" asked annoyance. "No, we're just going out for a cigarette." we replied. "Now's the perfect time to leave" voiced Ninja.

After this, I bring up the topic of going to a bar. I haven't seen Blackjack in quite some time and I'd like to talk more to the speaker about the subject. To be nice (I'm guessing), the Engineer asks the annoyance if she'd like to join us. "No. I don't like bars, so no. I'm not into bars. No." And if I could possibly put into words the force she put behind this sentence...

Ah well. I begin to make plans to drop her off at her car, which is in front of my apartment, then head to the city to join Blackjack and company. I get dirty looks for this. Screw you, cunt casket. I /like/ bars.

Plans are made, goodbyes are given, and we are on our hour and so way home. Conversation topics range from Sneaky Pete the gecko and his eating habits to the interesting time I had last night assisting a coworker of mine in her booty call. Annoyance never joins in the conversation at any time and on a number of occasions, I even forgot she was in the car.

Pulling up to my apartment building, I notice that the call box looks as if it's been torn half way from the wall. I'm climbing out of the car to check it out, Wee Ninja is following me, and Engineer is getting all himself together and locking up the car. I'm examing the call box when I here "I don't think so" being called out. Apparently, the Engineer had wished her goodnight and said he'd see her tomorrow (Sunday's are the day we hold our weekly meeting).

Well. Fuck you, twat waffle.

*spit*

I hope she never comes back ever again. I'm more pissed about it than I've put into words. She's nasty to us throughout the entire trip when WE DIDN'T EVEN WANT HER THERE BUT WE'RE TRYING TO BE NICE SO WE TAKE HER ALONG, she huffs and puffs about various small and inconsquential things (like being a little bit late and such), she leaves Engineer's car doors unlocked in Delaware (with my 200 count cd book inside, if that had been stolen there would have been hell to pay), she doesn't even ATTEMPT to make conversation with any of us on the trip there and back, then decides she's going to get uppitty? Screw you. Don't let the door hit you in the ass, you mouth breather.

>:O
thejunipertree: (Default)
A long weekend, an even longer day. I'm quite tired as I sit here, mashing the cut on on my tongue against my teeth to receive that small bit of pain that I do so crave.

The weekend:

The Wee One, The Engineer, and I made a pilgrimage to my most holy of Meccas...the Sanrio store. I've never been to one before. And I can so with all sincerity, I do SO miss my 35% off discount that I used to be the receipent of whilst I worked for Tower Books (we had a Hello Kitty rack). I need a Hello Kitty toaster. I do. I truly do. I didn't buy very much, only a checkbook cover, a pen, and a cutlery set for the office. But, I did also buy a (non Hello Kitty) black fleece hat with cat ears. With ear flaps, which are grand now that I have the tops of my ears pierced and they do so love to conduct the freezing cold. I shall have to take photos of this for your enjoyment, gentle reader.

Quote from the car ride up (hour and a half long):

Me (looking out the window at an enormous amount of trees): "Wow! Look at that tree!"

The Engineer: "Which one?"

Much rocking was to be had, despite the fact that Bohemian Rhapsody was sung during the ride home. I'm still not sure which disturbed me more. The fact that he was singing the song, or the fact that he knew all the lyrics.

The Wee One mostly giggled quite a lot, as is her wont.

---

Sunday was quiet, except for the witchy type meeting. Three new members. And only one of them got on my nerves (even if it was just to a small extent). This meeting's discussion was "Left Hand Path vs. Right Hand Path". I seemed to be the token left hand path representative, much to my discomfort. I had to keep clarifying that having the views that I hold do not necessarily mean that I am one of them goat killing, horribly dressed Anton followers. I'm just very into taking care of my own needs before everyone else's. I don't hug bunnies, I don't hump unicorns. And I don't believe that I am a faerie princess.

Except for that time when I was five and I told everyone that I wanted to be a faerie when I grew up. With long blonde hair and blue wings. I was quite specific.

Anyway, the meeting went well. Much lively discussion was to be had. And we had a basically full house. Something that doesn't always happen very much, as of late.

This evening, the Engineer and I headed out to a diner for out-of-the-house-time. And our waitress was from outer space. She also knew some people who used to be aquaintences of mine. Something which I wasn't entirely pleased about, but I shrugged off any bad feelings. She seemed sweet enough, if a bit stoned and rambly. The Engineer felt that she was fascinated with me, to which I replied "I'm a people person. bwahahahahahahaha!"

heh

Now, I sit. And smoke. And don't wish to go to bed, despite the hour growing late as it always does.

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thejunipertree

January 2011

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