Ringo...

...was being such a little sweetie this morning. He let me carry him around like a baby and sing Velvet Underground songs to him. He just purred up a storm the whole time and burrowed his little kitty nose into my arm.

The joys of yahoo pool...

Where you get asked such fun questions as "quieres f*cking con migo?"

So...

I've had this thingy for almost a year now. It's funny to go back and read things that I'd written ages and a half ago.

This still cracks me up, though... Yay for Eric.

icarus, don't fly too close to the sun, for the city has eyes.

a day of randomness...

...is all i can muster. I don't possess enough coherency to come up with a 'real' entry.

Heh... I opened this up...

...to say something, but now i've forgotten completely.

heh...

I like them, too. I mean, I wouldn't buy three pairs of hideously fugly earrings just because they were cheap.

Shoes, I might... and have before. Because cheap shoes, ugly or otherwise, are still cheap shoes.

new earrings

I got three new pairs of earrings today. They were cheap, plus they were buy two pairs get the third for free.

Here's one pair:

Oh could today be anymore boring?! *grumble,grumble*

I mean, really!

Well...

I know. It's a lame title. I'm not awake enough to be clever, ok?

So I played a record last night. A real record. On a record player. Something I haven't done in fifteen years, at least. I had a record player when I was a petite schecki. It was one of those boxy portable ones. I think it was blue on the outside and had a rainbow on inside lining part of the case. The turntable itself was the size of a 45, which was fine for me, because all I ever had were 45s. Those terriffic read and listen books. Turn the page at the jangle type things.

The first 'real' record I got was a 45 of Van Halen's Jump. I felt like the coolest kid in the world, playing Van Halen on my little blue record player.

Today was much better than Friday. Which is a good thing. Mondays have their own inherent suckitude, but it's nice when they manage to transcend it, y'know?

Anyway... I'm about done here, so have a good night, all.

scheck

Happy Monday

So far so good. Had a pretty good weekend. I could have used another day, but I can't complain too much as I'm only working four days this week as it is.

More later.

An Apology

Dear Today,

I'm sorry. I was quick to judge. But (and you knew there would be a but, so kindly wipe that look from your face) it's not like you went out of your way to make a good impression. And I'm not saying that there weren't things I did wrong, either. I'm just trying to point out that I acted as I did for a reason.

Anyway. Thank you for getting nicer as our time together went on. Lunchtime was downright pleasant, what with the live music and sunshine and a shady spot for me to sit and knit. I enjoyed myself so much that I can overlook the sunburned knees.

I hope you can forgive me,
Schecki

An Open Letter...

Dear Today,

I hate you. Passionately, and without end.

F*ck off and die,
Schecki.

P.S. If you ever make me have to deal with people who can't find their own ass with two hands, a flashlight, and an entire US Coast Guard Search and Rescue Squad and then blame their inability to do so on me before nine o'clock ante meridian, so help me God, I will hunt you down and murder you in cold blood.

A Pome, by Schecki (Yes, I know that's spelled wrong. It's for Comedic Effect)

We lie in bed
The sparks illuminate
The dark space between us
And I ache.

Poor L'il Ringo

Ringo's suddenly acquired a knack for getting locked in rooms and closets. Over the weekend he managed to get himself locked in the bedroom. Fortunately, he didn't make a mess anywhere in the room. Unfortunately, he ripped up a pretty good patch of carpet. I would rather have had him pee all over the place. Cheaper to clean up.

Then this morning, I got the iron and ironing board out of the linen closet to iron a shirt, and somehow he got himself locked in the closet. I got home and went to put the board away, and poor baby was huddled on a shelf, mewing pathetically. Poor little sweetie.

ROCK'N'F*CKIN' ROLL!!!!!!

Yay yay yay!!!

www.schecki.com is live and kickin'!

LIVE AND KICKIN, BABY!

Rockin' Johnny Sighting

Last night, as I was in the laundry room, about to take a load of clothes from the dryer upstairs, I saw Rockin' Johnny. He was coming in the back door.

Not only did I see him, but I saw him (get this)
Without. A. Shirt. (!) Rowr.

A new feature perhaps?

So a couple of months back, some people moved out of an apartment in my complex. I know this because the little nameplate on the mail box thing was taken off. Shortly thereafter, a new nameplate appeared, with a last name and the curious "Rockin' Johnny Band." Scruffy and I had a good laugh about that, and there were many sort of "What would Rockin' Johnny(RJ) think?" type comments thrown around. Then we'd discovered that RJ had his mini-blinds pulled up just enough to see his Rockin' Television. So then the game became, "What's on RJ's TV?"

I also joked that we should make up a big batch of guitar shaped sugar cookies that spell out "Rockin' Johnny" on the fretboard, and then take them to his apartment as a Welcome to the Neighborhood type thing, like people used to do.

I think I may have been drunk at the time.

So we kept peeking at his tv, and just making inane RJ comments, because one, it cracked our shit up, and two, one would imagine that anyone who calls himself "Rockin'" should expect a bit of teasing. And we weren't ever mean or nasty or within earshot, so we figured we weren't hurting anyone.

So a couple of weeks ago, I looked up RJ, and found a website, and then when we went to see M.O.T.O. play at the Record Emporium, I pointed out a RJ cd to Scruffy and we laughed about it, because we've a combined maturity level of a twelve year old. It had his picture on the cover, and I thought, "Hey, he's kind of cute... and looks a little like Jeff Buckley." And that's all the thought I gave to it.

Fast forward to last Thursday. I'm in the little lobby thingy of our building, about to stick my key in the lock, and at the same time, this guy is going to open the door. So there was this big sort of production number about who was going to open the door really. While this was happening, I hadn't really look-looked at the guy. So then I do look at him, and think, "Who is this guy, and why is he in our building?" Then i think "Who the heck cares?! He's gooooooooorgeous." Then I think "Oh my gawd. That's Rockin' Johnny!" And these aren't quick, one right after another at the speed of light thoughts, either. These are long, slow, gapey-stare thoughts. So I'm standing there staring at this gorgeous guy, who is my neighbor, with my mouth (probably) hanging open. Like an idiot. So, after turning beet red, naturally I dash upstairs without saying anything at all. Like, "Excuse me" or "Thanks for letting me in" or "Hi." So I'm sure he thinks i'm some sort of idiot.

Which I couldn't really care less about, but, all the same I'm still embarrassed.

At any rate, I mention this all because from now on I'm reporting on "Rockin' Johnny Sightings"

So I'll start right now.

Why Do I Always Forget?

Why do I always forget that drinking Mt. Dew for breakfast is a bad, bad idea? Now I can't sit still, I'm doing that crazy bouncing leg thing with both legs and I keep air guitaring.

What is wrong with me?

"My heart feels like an alligator. Turn up that goddamned radio. Volume! Clarity! Bass! We must have bass! What is wrong with us?! ARE WE GODDAMN OLD LADIES??!!"

*ahem*

Oh, and I forgot...

...to tell y'all about the Bikes Will Take Us show we went to. It was, in fact, the band that Scruffy thought it was, and they were even better than I had remembered. That was a fun night, because first I went to Stitch'n'Bitch and then on the way over to Schuba's I found another Yarn Shop. I don't know if it works out to be closer to home or not. But I do know that getting there involves no driving, and that doesn't suck in the slightest.

Strange...

...so if you've been reading, you know that i've been a total insomniac for the last week and a half or so. Well all the not sleeping has finally caught up with me, and just from pure exhaustion, I've been able, as of last night, to fall asleep. Well I'm just dead knackered today. Like canNOT keep my eyes open tired. Well, I've got to stick it out here for about another hour. I wasn't going to, but I went and got a cup of coffee, and now i can feel the caffeine fighting with the tired in my brain. I feel all swirly. It's bizarre.

Oh... almost forgot.

I'm a brunette now. I wanted to go back to my natural colour, but apparently the medium ashy brown colour that my hair is is too light to cover the red that my hair was. So now, my hair is this deep, rich sort of chocolatey brown. And I have to say, although it's darker than I'd like, I think it looks lovely.

Signs I Should Go Home.

The Scene: Me lamenting the loss of my stapler to co-worker in storage area.

What I Meant To Say:

"Man, what kind of a world do we live in where someone just takes your stapler right off your desk?! I loved that stapler. It's a big metal tank, and you can pound on it with your fist and it takes it without complaining."

What I Actually Said:

"Man, what kind of a world do we live in where someone just takes your stapler right off your desk?! I loved that stapler. It's a big metal tank, and you can fist it and it takes it without complaining."

And then don't realise what you've actually said until long long after the conversation.

..//transmission recieved\\..

..:album 13:..
..:song 10:..
..:you know who you are:..

..//end transmission\\..

*sigh*

What a long weekend it's been. It probably didn't help that I didn't go to sleep until 8 o'clock this (sunday) morning. And then only slept for 3 hours. And now, here it is midnight and I'm wide wide awake.

Oh, and I broke up with myself last night. I was being too clingy. And a bit desperate at times, and I just couldn't deal with it anymore. It wasn't as ugly as I thought it would be. There was break-up sex involved, but I didn't feel like it was because either of us wanted it so much, but because we'd feel as if we might regret it if we didn't. So I guess that puts me on the rebound...

O! Glorious Day Off

First off, happy birthday to day-day who (lucky bastard) shares a birthday with Hunter S. Thompson.

Second off, happy day off to me.

Third off, erm... ok, so I only had two things.

have a good day, y'all.

Finally!!!

I figured out was has been making me so psychotic... Drumroll please...

Sleep deprivation. I've been averaging about 3 and a half hours a night. Apparently, that's just not enough. But it's not like I'm intentionally not sleeping. It gets to be about 2 am, and I'm not tired, but I decide to try and go to sleep, so I crawl into bed, and lie there going "ok, sleep." Then nothing. So I turn over. "ok, sleep" Nothing doing. So finally, mostly out of boredom, about three o'clock i fall asleep. Then I'm up and awake at six sharp. Grr.

why is it...

...that little babies smell so good?

The newest superhero

The Amazing Mood Swinger! That's me right now. Bleh. I hate being a girl sometimes.

In other news, I'm having a good body day. I'm totally kickin' the hourglass thang. If I saw me on the street, I'd totally stop me and ask for my phone number.

I've got blisters on my fingers!

Not blisters, actually, but bruises. But I've got bruises on my fingers is not a song reference, now is it?

Seriously, the fingertips of my left hand are all bruised. Which makes typing really painful. But am I going to go home tonight and play more? You betcha. Because I'm a masochist that way.

And In Conclusion...

I need help.

Lots of it.

Or y'all might as well just lock me away in a rubber room.

I'm unsane.

No, really.

love'n'lots of it,

la schecki

gah...

could today have sucked any harder? Hmm? no didn't think so. It should have introduced itself like "Oh, hi, i'm today, and I suck."

Ooh, this could be good.

new movie

Oh, a couple of random things

You, that guy on the train this morning with the red sunglasses and the shorts on, if Stuart Copeland and my friend Eric both donated genetic material and then they created a guy out of their perfectly combined genes, then rapid aged him to about 40, that'd be you. Hi-five, dude, hi-five.

To the guy that I was walking behind whilst exiting the Damen Brown Line station last night. Never wear that shirt again. If you have a back and shoulders that hairy, you should not be wearing a tank top at all, let alone one with superdeep cut out arm holes. Now, I'm not a hair prude or anything, I like me a hirsute man as much as the next girl, but sir, really. Noone wants to see that.

But...

I did get to put sticker label things on CDs, and that was fun. Reminded me of being in a band again. 'Cept I wasn't really "sticker label girl" I was "Tee Shirt Iron-On Girl." I like ironing. I was really suited for that. That whole ironing thing.

It's so funny... last night at tenpm I absolutely loveloveLOVED the entire world. I mean, I was totally and completely smitten with every single thing that I laid eyes on. But everything. And I was still feeling relatively in love this morning. Then I came to work and two minutes later (after arriving at my desk) I was absolutely homicidal. It's like "Hey, Look at me! I'm crazy quick change angry girl!" ^_^

Grrr-rrr-rrrr

Funky Error

I want today to be over. I want to go home. I've wanted to go home since ten o two. But I'm still here. And will be for another long while. Because people keep asking me for things, and I only kind of know how to do what they ask for, and then they get mad if it's not perfect. But i'm doing my best, dammit, so get over yourselves, ok?

Oh, and I'm cramping too, just for fun.

Why'm I so damn talkative today?

Hmm? It's like that commercial for the woman with the medical response necklace thing where she's all "I've fallen and I can't get up," only I'm saying "I'm talking and I can't shut up."

It's disturbing me.

So my mom and I are doing some geneographical (is that a word? Well it is now, beeotch) research, and it turns out that almost all of my relatives/ancestors are from Germany. Even the ones I though were Irish. See, I'd always thought that we were like 40% Irish, 40% German and 20% English and other Europeany types. And I'd always gravitated towards being Irish as opposed to German. Not because there's anything wrong with Germans, but the Irish seem so much more romatic. And it's funny because I'm even more German that Scruffy is, and he's got a German last name! (which is the same as that of my Great-Great-Great Grandmother's Maiden name, kinky!) So now I'm feeling a bit conflicted. I realise how inane it is, and it's not like it has any real bearing on my day to day life, but it's bothering me anyway.

So do you...

...remember that time that Ringo tried to eat Janis's head?



Or the time when I was at my parent's house and saw something frightening? And I had blonde hair? With pink highlights?



Or the time that I dressed up for Halloween and I looked like some freaky goth tooth fairy and I wore the costume on the train and people stared at me like i was insane, and my hair was a funny shade of orange and I stayed up all night making a wand out of some ribbon, a dowel and a hot glue gun?



Yeh, me neither.

Things We Said Today...

Well, actually it was Long, Long, Long, which would have been an apt description for today. And I was even late! And it's been positively crawling. Anyway, the point is, is that I learned the song Long Long Long on the gee-tar last night and i'm very proud of myself, thankyouverymuch. Granted I could live with out the little stabby pains everytime a lefthanded fingertip hits a key on the keyboard, but I'll suffer it gladly. Oh, and not only can I play it, but I can sing it too! So go me.

That makes two songs I can play now, technically speaking. I've gone and forgotten the other one completely (True Love Waits by radiohead), but I could play it at one point, so I'm counting it.

I'm in a really strange mood again today. Yesterday i was about twelve years old for the most part. I hope I didn't annoy Scruffy too much. I don't think I did. I think he thought I was funny. And he was happy that I did the dishes. We're going to see 'Bikes Will Take Us' at Schuba's tonight, and they should be good. Scruffy just figured out their name, finally. I seem to vaguely remember them opening for Brian Jonestown Massacre a year and a half ago (but don't quote me on that) I don't remember much else about them at all. But usually is Scruffy says something will be good, it is. He's got good taste.

Wow, could I ramble on any more? Suuuuuuurvey Says? Yes, yes I can. But I won't, because honestly, I'm starting to bore myself at this point.

I'm sure there'll be more later.

love'n'kisses,
Schecki

Phrase for the Day.

Hey, Kids! The phrase for the day is, I'm sorry, but it's just wrong.

Go ahead, try it on for size.

I really wish...

I'd've written the song We're Desperate. But no, X had to go and write it first.

And as I just discovered, they're playing tomorrow night. In some Illinois town just out side of friggin' St. Louis. This is so unfair.

UPDATE THEY PLAYED LAST WEEK. AND NO ONE TOLD ME!!!

Bleh

I'm so bored. I might actually have to do some work, and well... I don't wanna.

Clownfish can change gender, studies find

Clownfish can change gender, studies find

That's Awesome!

Oh, and...

to the chick who was the "Personal Ad of the Day" yesterday, who said "You should get to know me because I like single malt scotch and foreign films?"

GO PISS UP A ROPE.

Gawd. Ooh, you're so cultured and refined.

That really annoyed me, to an irrational degree. I give you all my permission to analyse me. Why is that bitch so annoying?

Figures...

As I'm posting that last one, she came back. So I inhaled a couple of double cheezburgers from McDonald's. They were over onionated. But not bad.

But I ate too fast and now I've got a stomachache. Boo.

So Hungry...

...must find food.

Why do I forget to eat? How does it happen that I look at the clock and it's quarter to eleven then I work for five minutes and it's quarter to three and I'm ravenously hungry? And then it's at that very moment when I get a call to cover the reception desk for an hour.

Mummy? Mummy, I see spots.

Happy Birthday Eric.

Yay. You're twentyfour.

And older than me.

That's what you get for not calling. I don't care how drunk you were.

Kidding. I'm glad you enjoyed your weekend.

Ooh!

I might be going to see Iggy & the Stooges in August! That would be wicked cool.

Yay! I'm (well, we're going!) and we get to stay with my parents! And they have a pool!!! Yay!!! And Sonic Youth is playing too. Yay!

So...

I had a total breakdown last night. Tears, self-loathing, the whole nine yards. My eyes hurt from crying. Still. And it's quarter to three in the afternoon. I'm feeling better now, though, which is good. I feel bad for Scruffy for having to deal with me like that. He got very little sleep last night and he was so tired this morning and I feel bad about that.

And Eric's coming to Chicago and he didn't even tell me! Bastard.