You had me at meat tornado.

Figured I'd better write some. Every time I decide to let my blogging lapse I always have this sudden flash of myself at 70 years old, God knows where doing God knows what and not having written down the memories that slip past the lens.

The pandemic is almost over, we're in Phase 1, and it feels strange to think we've been living some sort of weird apocalyptic surrealism these past two and a half months. Shit has been fucked since we came back from Disney. I got my return to work date as May 25, right before tubing. I'm gonna miss this tech job. It's nice waking up, going to work in my underwear, and having an hour lunch.

I got HBO trial because of that show I Know This Much Is True, and since it only updates every Sunday, I've tried to find another show to watch, and I found Big Love, which has Bill Paxton in it and is about a family of polygamists in Utah. It's pretty interesting. I've also been trying to read a lot more-found an interesting book where an artist sits across from strangers in a museum for seventy five days and doesn't say anything. She does weird shit like isolates herself in a loft with a ladder made of knives with no food and walks to meet her boyfriend (who at the end becomes her ex boyfriend) halfway at the Great Wall. Interesting book though I can't say I'd read it again. Another one talks about this girl in NYC who puts her entire life on hold to sleep for entire year. She goes to this totally wacked out shrink who keeps writing her these scripts for every sleeping med known to man and meets some Asian dude who brings her things every three days and turns her hibernation into an art project. At the end she watches her best friend jump off of the World Trade Center as it burns. Weird shit. Guess I'm still trying to find some answers, though I'm really not sure what the question is anymore. Maybe trying to find a book that moves me to write like The Man I Love, though I don't know if I'll ever find it. I think the reason why that book moves me so much is because even after twelve years, they still make it back to each other.

Haven't done much all weekend except clean and go to the store. Today Lacey and Bryan came over and we went to Walmart and Bryan got a fuck-ton of juice (like 5 bottles of different juice) and stuff to make cookies. Stopped for them to get ice cream and hung out here for awhile. After Lacey left they ordered Applebees and made cookies and now they're playing Mortal Kombat and we're waiting on Brittany and Chewy to come and pick up some more cookies. I'm trying to do better on the sweets and junk, which means a lot of chromium pictolate.

While Scott and I were waiting for Lacey, we were watching my picture slideshow, and YouKnowWho showed up. I thought I deleted all the goddamn pictures of said person but life is sneaky that way. I managed to find two in my library and tried to delete them, but the damn files, for whatever reason, won't delete. Needless to say, I am not amused. Why can't it just be fucking done? What do I have to do? Throw myself down some stairs, obtain a concussion or get amnesia or something? Jesus.

Can't wait for tubing.

-Rae