damnmydooah: (Default)
Or, as I call him, Squedward (squee + Edward, pronounced Squidward).

Also, I can hear your collective "duh"s and "Is that all?"s, but shut up.

So, I went to see Twitlight (I swear, that's a regular typo. Thought I'd leave it in) Nueva Luna (seriously, how awesome would this movie be in Spanish?!) tonight, and color me surprised that it wasn't as horribly horrible as I had thought (hoped) it would be. And that is because for, like, half the freaking movie, Squedward simply isn't in it!

What you do get, however, is some genuine lolz, Jacob running around shirtless most of the time (damn Taylor Lautner for only being 17. Poor kid probably can't even get tickets to his own gun show (yes I see that you saw what I did there) , and, erm... oh yeah, Bella licking her lips and being all said, like, "Can't you tell by my facial expression that I'm totally depressed right now?" No honey, we can't, because that's your face.

I am also convinced that half the people who go to the cinema to see Twilight go there for the lolz. At a certain point, while I was taking a drink from my bottle of Fanta, Squedward uttered another one of his horrible lines (who the frack ever gave R.Pattz his first acting role, anyway? All the dude can do is look like he just stuck his nose into one of his own armpits) and as I choked on my drink and let out something along the lines of "Oh, brother!", the two girls next to me sniggered right along. Good times, I tell you, good times.

I can't wait for part four, what with the blood sucking Cronenberg baby. Awesome.
damnmydooah: (smad)
I've been trying to figure out what has brought about this spell of suckiness in my life. Surely, it can't be karma. Yes, I can be one hell of a bitch at times, but I have not been a bad person that much that the universe is bitch-slapping me in return. It can't be fate, because that's usually used in positive terms, and not much about all of this can be described in much the same way. Kizmet, same kind of thing, also not going on.

All in all, I'd say this comes down to chance, bad luck, and a good ol' case of not quite using the brain.

I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this, apart from the fact that I really freakin' hate all of this and I wish it would just magically go away. As it is, however, I have to keep thinking of everything and it's a damn tough job to keep up. Things slip through the cracks, I can't answer completely normal questions and I've also started stress eating more than usual, which is undoing the stress weight loss I had been experiencing.

It's hard to figure out how exactly I feel about E-hole. I'm still not sure he is entirely malignant, but after the e-mails he sent me today, I am convinced that he is not just a lazy ass who lets things lie. His latest message stated that he wanted to send me registered mail, which could mean a host of things. Of course my paranoia flared up immediately (he's suing me!), but luckily I have a dad who said "Stop talking shite and give him our address." It's good to have people who sternly put your head back on straight.

The hardest thing, ultimately, is to keep up my spirits, by which I mean the hope that everything will work out. I know of course that things will not automatically work out, that I have to keep working at it, but checking out all the websites that offer houses, apartments and studios and seeing that on my budget I could basically get something that I could jam a couch and a bed into is getting a little blah.

Nevertheless. The meeting I had with Patrick (publisher guy) today went quite well, so that's a good one. Also, I am working on my thesis, and I'm enjoying it. Flood is truly a great supervisor. Next meeting is Friday, and I have to do some more brainstorming, which will be done tomorrow. For now, I will watch more Buffy, which all of you possibly don't remember is a truly depressing show. I should probably not watch it anymore. But it's Buffy.
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So then I went to Nijestee. And the message was: "Thank you for your honesty. Now GTFO."

Which was to be expected, but I've literally got less than two weeks and the reality that I did this myself is not pleasant at all and it's all just fucked up and I can't believe I did this in the first place. And my dad said something total dick-like when I hadn't even properly asked for help getting my stuff out and I'm just so fucking mad it him right now.

I can crash at my aunt and uncle's for a while, and there's the distinct possibility that I can get something through Carex, which is anti-kraak, so that might be good. But still. Jesus fuck. Jesus fuck jesus fuck jesus fuck.
damnmydooah: (Default)
So, this morning (about an hour ago) my doorbell rang. I answered it, and a woman said: "Bill collector for E." Having my first minor heart attack of several I've had in the past hour, I stammered to say he wasn't home right now, to which she replied: "Ok, I'll just leave it in the mail box, shall I?" After she'd left I went down the mailbox to retrieve a large envelope from yet another bill collector's company. Then I proceeded to do what I believe is a felony or at the very least a misdemeanor in the US: I steamed open the envelope (you'll all lie for me, won't you?). Inside were two documents, one stating that E needs to pay his water bill asap or they're gonna come get his stuff (which, as you know, is still my stuff) and another one which I didn't quite understand but which also said that he needed to pay asap or the shit would hit the fan, or something of the like. It was a lot of legalese.

I, er, yeah. It's ehm... hoo boy. Oh dear. Gee golly. Well. Y'know. Shit.

In short: if anyone knows about a house, an apartment, a room, a garage, a trash can that I could move into real soon, I'd appreciate hearing it. Also, if and once I get out of here, I will report E to Nijestee. This asshole is going down.
damnmydooah: (Default)
And then I did two very scary things, and it turned out pretty much okay. Plus, I've learned that it really pays to be a cute, semi-little blonde.

At the gemeente, I got to talk to the actual deurwaarder, and learned that he could actually take my stuff, unless I could prove that it was all mine. This would either have to be by showing receipts for everything (which I obviously do not have), or getting a notary to document all the possessions in the house and signing something saying that it was mine. Which would cost me 900 euros. So far, definitely not good at all. Ultimately, I showed the guy the contract E and I signed (because the girl at the rechtswinkel advised me to do so), and he immediately surmised that this was an illegal sublet. This is where I fibbed a bit, because I pretended not to know. He made all sorts of noises about calling Nijestee and all that, which was a little scary. But to be honest, at that point I was in such a strange mood of elated resignation that I didn't really care anymore. However, the deurwaarder did tell me that E had contacted him, and that he would come by and pay the huge debt Wednesday at the latest. Anyhoodle, after a lot of talking with this guy, who looked like a scary mobster (shirt collar open, gaudy gold necklace), he turned out to be perfectly nice and hopefully a little sympathetic to the innocent face I was pulling. I had also asked him what would happen if he came by on Thursday and found the house empty, to which he replied that he would get the police and make a report stating that verduistering had taken place. All this, however, would be against E. In this whole mess, I am legally responsible for absolutely nothing, so that's a good thing. Ultimately, the guy said that he would *not* be coming by on Thursday. We are going to wait and see if E shows up on Wednesday or earlier to pay his bills, and I got the deurwaarder's work and mobile number, to call on Monday or Tuesday to see what has happened. After that, we'll see. If E still hasn't paid by that time, the deurwaarder can still come by. If that happens, I think I will empty this house for the time being, and perhaps put everything of E's that is in the basement in here.

I do, however, need to find a different place to live, I think. Because as this guy put it, because I'm registered at this house together with E, it could mean trouble in terms of stufi. I do seem to remember warnings from the IBG several years ago that if you lived in an illegal sublet you actually aren't eligible for stufi at all.

I also went by the TNT today to hand in my bike bags and work clothes. I decided on the way there that I would hold my head high, apologize and take any anger that was directed towards me, because I deserved it. Not that that stopped me from being nervous. But as I walked in, it turned out that there wasn't really anybody there. Of course, it would have been nicer of me to see if my team coach was still around, to say a proper good bye, but unfortunately, I just wasn't that courageous. So I left my bags and put my letter of resignation on the desk. One chapter ended.

I'll see what happens with the deurwaarder, but for at least a week, things are okay.
damnmydooah: (Default)
I quit my job yesterday. Just like that. And I'm supposed to feel relieved because that job was beginning to make me a little suicidal, except that I did it in the wrongest way possible: halfway through my shift. Before I'd even finished my first route (which, due to the unexpected rain and thunder, took much longer because I wasn't wearing water resistant shoes and I had to go into the town center to buy a raincoat - after which it pretty much stopped, of course), I called up my team coach and said I was going home after finishing it and that he should find somebody else to take my second route.
Obviously, he didn't like this at all, but I was so desperate that I actually stuck to my guns and said I wouldn't do it. Because that job, for the past two months, has seriously made me want to walk under a car. Even though it was only one day a week, my feet were growing into little horny lumps and my wrists have been hurting and ultimately, the phrase "disgruntled postal worker" is so much more true than you could ever know. Except that I'd morphed into a homo/sui-cidal postal worker.

However, that's not just due to the job. I am simply not doing well. At all. Contributing factors are: 1) my supervisor completely slammed the introduction to my thesis, so much so that I refused to work with her and am now starting all over again, which means that I won't graduate until the end of the year. 2) I moved. In and of itself that's pretty great, except that it cost me a lot of money, it's an illegal sublet, my "landlord" is an idiotic egomaniacal electronics salesman / comic creator (a bad one) that didn't pay his taxes which means the county deurwaarder is coming to knock on my door next Thursday to take 1500 euros worth of my stuff (probably). Landlord (we'll call him E) said he'd took care of it and asked for a kwijtschelding (sorry, too lazy to get the dictionary), but the bureaucracy is slow and yada yada yada. Of course, if and once they come I'll surely explain that I'm not E, but then again, he's still registered at this address and I'm subletting it illegaly (did I mention that stupid move?) and oh oh oh it's all just going to hell.

I never should've taken this apartment. I'm thinking back on it and realizing that I didn't think it through at all. It all just happened so fast. I reacted on Monday, and by Thursday he called me back to say that I could have it. And I was so blinded by the fact that something like this was finally happening and it was happening so fast that I just didn't step back and say "Whoa. Think about this for just a minute."

Plus, the floors are so hard to keep clean.

As far as I'm concerned, I'm getting out of here asap, except that it's really hard to find anything remotely roomy in my price range. At Kamernet, the square footage goes down dramatically once you go below 500 (plus, they very often don't allow pets), and markplaats has pretty much the same. There's a lot of official websites, such as Funda.nl, but most of the landlord (which are often companies) ask for a secure job with a pay at least three times the rent. Now I've been thinking about a construction where maybe my mother (who has a secure job) could rent a place that I'll live in and then I'll pay her, but it would have to be okay with the landlord or renting company, because I don't want to get in trouble again.

I'm trying to see this as a learning experience, but I sure as hell am not enjoying it.

damnmydooah: (Default)
Holy shit, beer is heavy... The shower I took about an hour ago has practically been rendered useless.

I had another weird dream last night. They seem to come in bouts; there are times when I don't dream for weeks on end, and then I have a weird one every night for a week. This particular dream wasn't weird in a personal way, even though I myself was in it. It was just really weird. And I am going to write it down, since I somehow feel I must. However, to observe proper 'netiquette' (seriously, that has got to be the most retarded word of the 21st century), I shall put it behind a cut. Also, this way, if you read and are offended in some way and tell me that, I can say that you didn't have to read it (although I know you guys won't, since you are actually intelligent). So here goes:

New York, New York )



damnmydooah: (Default)
You Are An INFP
The Idealist

You are a creative person with a great imagination. You enjoy living in your own inner world.
Open minded and accepting, you strive for harmony in your important relationships.
It takes a long time for people to get to know you. You are hesitant to let people get close to you.
But once you care for someone, you do everything you can to help them grow and develop.

In love, you tend to have high (and often unrealistic) standards.
You are very sensitive. You tend to have intense feelings.

At work, you need to do something that expresses your personal values.
You would make an excellent writer, psychologist, or artist.

How you see yourself: Unselfish, empathetic, and spiritual

When other people don't get you, they see you as: Unrealistic, naive, and weak

I've come to see myself as less and less unselfish.
damnmydooah: (Default)

Nothing Intelligent Ever Follows the Word "Dude"

Indian guy: Dude...what if Shakespeare was Jesus?

Bellingham, Washington

damnmydooah: (Default)
So, did you hear/read? I've been told to kill myself. I have been told to hang myself, by an idiot militant catholic, and if an idiot militant catholic tells you to do something, you'd better do it. So, without further ado:

Goodbye, cruel world. I can't take it anymore. It's not you, it's me; I'm just superbusy right now.

...

Wait.

I'm suddenly sensing a flaw in my logic. Lemme just quickly read back what I wrote.

...

Ah, there we go: I wrote that when an idiot militant catholic tells you to do something you should do it, whereas I should've written that if an idiot militant catholic tells you to do something, you should laugh at it. My mistake.

Besides, there's too much to live for, like apple juice and Bugles with cream cheese. I'm back, cruel world!
damnmydooah: (Default)
Today my mother and I went to Fontana Nieuweschans, and it was very lovely. We spend some time in the salty bath thing, took the massage street twice, were massaged by a waterbed and got wrapped in a champagne algae gel (actually, there was no actual champagne in the gel; the lady told me this secret. I kind of wish she hadn't). So now I'm all kinds of relaxed. My muscles are supple again. That's very nice.

And then I get slightly less relaxed when people start comparing abortion to the Holocaust. And I refer to [livejournal.com profile] dracothelizard 's explanation of how it isn't. I left a comment on her post about how much I admire her for being able to respond to this in an intelligent and coherent manner, because the first thing I do is sort of gasp for breath, and then the only thing I can think of are a lot of insults.

Pretty much regardless of my personal views of religion, what I cannot grasp is people who are so completely... what's the word? Entrenched? Yes, entrenched in a certain way of life that anything outside it is quite often immediately given a great big stamp of disapproval. Things are responded to with such animosity and hostility that, for me at least, it is almost impossible to re-respond, so to speak, with anything other than the abovementioned gasping for breath and disbelief.

I just don't quite get it, you know?

damnmydooah: (Default)
Ahhhh...

That, my friends, was a sigh of contentment. I had the quintessential lazy Sunday today. I woke up around 10, puttered around on the interwebs for a while, read "Robinson Crusoe" for 4 hours, and then watched 17 episodes of season 2 of How I Met Your Mother (I finally checked it out. It's awesome. Actually, I finally checked it out again. Anyhoodle.), interrupted by getting dinner.

For the first time in months, I didn't feel stressed out. I finished the final assignment for the previous semester last Wednesday, and I've got nothing to do but read for both the class I'm taking this semester and my dissertation. The 4 hours I spent reading? For that class. But it didn't feel like work for that class, because "Robinson Crusoe" is awesome.

Now I'm going to go to bed, and tomorrow I'll finish the book, watch some more HIMYM and start reading Bruce Springsteen biography.

Ahhhh...
damnmydooah: (Default)

The Rest of You are Acceptable Losses

Bimbette: So, I'm thinking of breaking up with my boyfriend.
Friend: Why?
Bimbette: Because he cut his hair.
Friend: That's just stupid.
Bimbette: No, you don't understand how upset I was -- he looked like he was in the Army.
Friend: So?
Bimbette: What if the terrorists think I'm with him? They'd bomb us both, and that's just not happening.

--53rd & 6th

Overheard by: QuietOne

www.overheardinnewyork.com/archives/008173.html
damnmydooah: (Default)
I have officially become a fan of Kees Dekker.

He replied to my e-mail (which, according to the program, he sent to me the day before I sent the original message to him - weird), thanking me for my candor, and that I could take the two weeks he originally offered me.

...

Is this man fantastic, or what?

I don't really plan on taking those two weeks (not if I can help it, anyway), but just the fact that I still can kind of blows my mind.

Also, an e-mail from Hans to all the students in the class makes me hopeful about having passed his course.

All I need to get is a good grade for Visser's class, kick ass on Dekker's assignment, and this semester will have been a success.

In other news, Genie's party was great fun, Jerry the bartender nice, and the drinks nicer. Whoopee!!!
damnmydooah: (Default)
Dear writers of fanfiction for various shows,

could you please, PLEASE, stop referring to people's eyes as "orbs"? Mulder has "hazel orbs", Saint Oliska has "chocolate orbs". It's enough. Really.

Thank you.
damnmydooah: (bp)
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid computer! First you work, then you don't, then I panic, and then you work, and now I feel like I've lied to Dekker, which technically I haven't, but now I'm gonna have to sort of lie to Visser and I'm just so very frackin' sick of having to think!

Gah. I'd eat some chocolate, but I'd probably puke it out.

See, Dekker gave me at least a two week extension because I told him my computer died. At the moment, I really thought it had. But now it turns out it's fine. Well, it's not fine, but it works. Enough for me to work on papers and such. On the other hand, I have lost a day's work with this crap. And I have another deadline on Friday, which I'm not sure I'm up to, because my brain is well and truly fried. However, if I do make that deadline, Dekker might find out and think that I lied to him. Which I technically didn't. If you say something that isn't true, but you think it is, that's not a lie, right?

So now I'm wondering if I should send Visser an e-mail to tell her my computer died, which I know to not be true, but at the same time, I'm not sure if I'm mentally up to it. I'm repeating myself.

Gah. I'm so empty. Blurgh.
damnmydooah: (Default)
You know, I was gonna turn this into a nice little story, with a bit of a riff on The Fresh Prince (remnants of which can be seen in the title), messing up the rhyme scheme a bit so the last word of the penultimate line would rhyme with the last word of the changed final line, but ultimately, I can't be bothered, so I'm just going to tell you:

I passed my Criminology exam with an 8. I am now (unofficially) a Bachelor of the Arts.

Oh, and I went to see Twilight.
damnmydooah: (Default)


Perhaps a little too flattering, but that's kind of the point, isn't it?

Anyhoodle, back to definitions of violence, criminology and... er... fluffy bunnies? As a counterpoint.

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