Parking Fiend.

As I'm sure the 1.2 readers of this blog out there already know, the other day I stepped out of the mansion to see a note on my windshield. I don't know why it bothered me so much. Why it still bothers me. For some reason, this little note angered me more than Alan Rickman being in the U.S. when I was in the U.K. I wrote a note. See the picture to the left. 

But now this spot hasn't been occupied by anyone. Because they know I'm watching. I'm watching like a tourist on a summer vacation, I'm watching like a seven year old watches Pokemon, I'm watching that spot as if Alan were about to teleport to that exact parking space. And what will happen when someone begins to consistently park there? I'll memorize their face and frown at them. Because I'm from the midwest and my anger manifests itself in a passive aggressive way. But, oh, they'll know by my disappointed frown and deep inside they'll say 'sorry, man, I'm so sorry! I was such a jerk. How can I ever make it up to you and receive your delicious baked goods.' And if the courage was enough that they'd say it out loud, I would say 'It's cool. Thanks for apologizing. You want some cookies?'

I mean, unless the sign survives and I catch the person getting out of the car and I'll point to the sign and say 'Hey, did you write that?'

To which they'll say 'Yes.'

And then I'll say 'That was a really jerk-y thing to do.'

And then they'll probably say something like 'Sorry' 

then I'll say, 'Yeah, yeah, you probably should be sorry.' And then I'll shake my head at them and walk away. 

Again, why am I so upset about this? Maybe it was because I was so parking-happy about not living in Loring Park and my parking-happiness was dashed by this.

I hope everyone's Thanksgiving was great. My aunt made an amazing Thanksgiving feast and it included blueberry pie. It was spectacular. I pretty much don't have to shop for groceries for a while because I have so many left overs. But, I will, because my name is Dani and I have an addiction to diet coke. 

I'm best off to bed. I have a full day of sign holding tomorrow. Believe it or not, holding a sign for hours is really boring. I can feel my brain start to shut down. Yay for an interview on the 2nd!

Unemployment

Belated Before and After pictures of November 4

Notice: 

Before picture. We've yet to exercise our American right.

After: Proud voting stickers attached to our apparel. Immediate future of free coffee and ice cream. Long-term future of hope for a better economy and health care.

What's really annoying is when you apply at places and then they post an ad on CRAIGSLIST for an open position. One you didn't apply for. One that you're probably not qualified for. Or if you've put in an application to a place you know is hiring and you call back to check the status of your application and they say 'we'll call you if you're interested'. I know, I know. I hope they all stub their toes too.

I did, however, get a gig at Ultimate Electronics in Burnsville. Yes, I am a sign holder. Put on your brakes, come on into Ultimate Electronics... in Burnsville. I'm calling Biolife tomorrow and selling away pieces of my body: read: my plasma. 

I'm at the point where I'm really missing Julian more than I probably should considering the possibility of us being together again anytime soon. I have a lot of free time, so I will find myself starring at his photograph for, like, an hour at a time. I have one photo paper picture of him. I'm thinking about as

king him to send a picture of his thumb or his ear or something, something that I can't see well in a photograph. A photograph of his hand that I used to hold or his cheek that I used to kiss if I was feeling very girly. When we talk to each other on the phone he'll mention he just went into Tesco's or Sainsbury's to get a sandwich and milk. I miss London sandwiches and milk. We used to take silly pictures a lot. I miss taking silly pictures in England with a man by my side who isn't embarrassed by it.

If anyone else hadn't noticed, it's really cold out. I noticed because it's only about two degrees warmer in the mansion than outside. When water comes out the head of the shower it chills before it gets to my feet. My scalp will be burning, but my feet haven't begun to thaw yet. 

I'm watching American Beauty. It feels like an art student film with a really huge budget and better sound. Independent films seem to always lack in the sound department.

It's late again. Ought to go do that bedtime routine.

In general.

First off, Yay Obama.

I know what you're thinking: "But wait, my vote did matter?"

Or: "Gee, I'm sure glad my guy got beat. I can't believe Nader fooled me again! Silly Nader!"

Times are tough. Sometimes you just need a young guy who's strong enough to tackle big issues, yet, weak (or is it extra strong?) enough to ask for advice and help from the elected governmental officials. 

So I'm in a new apartment now. Yay to that as well. It's an old mansion-type-place with drafty windows and wood floors.  My roommates are pretty cool as well. Any roommate who does not practice a two finger diet, does not have bipolar disorder, and who I not have to over-hear phone sex from is a roommate that I approve of. Bonus: they are pretty darn swell not considering said qualifications to boot!

I've a new dream of starting a public access television show. The more I talk about my ambitions and dreams the less likely they are to happen. Which is why I refuse to say anymore about it. I blame this effect directly for not yet being married to Alan Rickman.  Or being employed. Anyone hiring?

Sooo, it's really early in the morning and I'm kind of tired. I suppose I should cuddle up on my mattress and stare at the back of my eyelids for a while.