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#the family curse

Young adult Morgan: I’m gonna be Aunt May 2.0

Peter confused: What do you mean?

Morgan: When you ultimately die because of your line of work in a few years and I get to raise Ben to be a man his dead family would be proud of.

Peter apprehensive: I’m not gonna die because of work.

Morgan: It’s the family’s curse. Your parents died when you were four and my dad when I was 4.

Morgan looks at Peter dead in the eyes: Your days are numbered, brother.

Peter completely terrified.

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I was so excited to be able to go to my cousins first birthday party. She was having a tea party. But because my life is a joke I missed it 🙃🙃🙃

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We used to have a family curse. No one could get good service at a restaurant in my family. If at all possible to get bad service, we would.

But it has changed, we get decent service eating out, even good service sometimes.

Now we cannot get good service at hotels. We went to our nice hotel in the downtown area of the town we were staying in. They overbooked the hotel, and at nine at night, sent us to another hotel in their chain for free.

So instead of a nice hotel downtown that was pretty quiet and lovely, we stayed in a step down hotel that when we walked into the lobby was teeming with kids and young teens. The front desk ladies were rude about us getting our room free. When we got to the room, it looked all made up, but when we turned down the bed, it was obvious these sheets had been slept on. At this point, it was after ten, we were exhausted, but my mom and sister headed down to the front desk while I relaxed anything we had started to set out.

We had to schlep all our bags (including big shopping bags as we had gone to a big annual sale on our girl’s weekend) to a smaller room (at least they did give us the king and pullout couch since they wanted to give us a rollaway bed).

This morning we woke up to a bill under the door. ARGH!!!!!

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As I sit here, carving card & polyurethane to make a cheap-ass case fit a phone it was never intended for, I have to wonder why I’m bothering. I mean, this is (was) a nice enough cover, functional but not too flashy, and it did a good enough job of protecting the phone, but it was cheap. Very cheap. Less than 1% of the value of the phone cheap. Maybe I should just buy a new one? Why do I find it so difficult to pay for something useful like a cover yet so easy to pay for the phone itself?

I’ve had ideas to make my own custom covers too; one plan was to fit the phone into an old childrens’ book, I even found an old original (but valueless) Thomas the Tank Engine book to use. Thing is, I bought that when I was still using the 5, and it’s too small for the 7. I do have a copy of the Book of Mormon I could use… It would completely disable the camera though, unless I wanted to make it plainly obvious that it’s not a book anymore or I make a concealed flap or something. I’ll mull it over at work tomorrow, after looking at the local phone shop’s cheapo covers.

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Yay, no work for a week! Today was better than yesterday, but it’s still nice to have some time away from the public. It’s my Mum’s birthday on Tuesday as well, so I may go visit her, or phone, depending on how insular I’m feeling. If this seems uncaring, let it now be known that I once went 18 months without calling or seeing my parents, mostly because someone tried to guilt-trip me about missing one family occasion and I just shut down. So, this would be no biggie - as things stand, it’s over 3 months since we last spoke or saw each other. If I have poor familial communication skills, it’s because I learned them from masters… Mum’s phoned me a grand total of 3 times in the 20+ years since I left home!

Enough of this foolishness.


Things I am planning to do over the next few days include nothing, not much, and fuck all. Two things I need to get done early on are recover a newly-serviced car from my mechanic, and see the doctor to get a renewal of a med that’s not on my standard rotation sheet yet. Other than that, the world is my burrito.

I may take a day to explore the London public transport network’s outer reaches. There’s plenty of places I’ve never been that would be nice to visit even briefly - and it would almost certainly have to be brief, because if I’m going by public transport it means I’ll have to walk everywhere at the other end and that’s really not my forté right now. My back’s definitely on an ebb, and aches like fuck right now. Much as I enjoy the prospect of 6-7 days off, I do not wish to see this turn into 6-7 weeks!

Other things to do include working on a unifying theme/template for my blog and my web space. Tumblr themes look like fun challenges, and I’ve got an idea that I only briefly used once before about 15 years ago. It was a bit too advanced then for full cross-browser compatibility, but should be charmingly retro now… I’ve also got my car club’s website to administer, we need to put a couple of banners up to shill for a company that keeps sending us cheques (seems only fair, after all) and we’re also running a hideously outdated bulletin board and I want to see if I can get it upgraded without ritually sacrificing one of the noisy neighbour kids. (Memo to self: need a tag for interwebby things.)


One thing I know I won’t need or indeed want to do is the old standby, catching up on sleep. I was up with the larks this morning at 5am even though my alarm was set for 6:30! Considering I went to bed after 11pm that’s really something. I went back to sleep for a bit though because I’d been having an interesting dream and I wanted to see how it played out, and because this wasn’t something I was forcing on myself I didn’t end up regretting it; it seems my level of agitation at being awake correlates much more closely to the kind of narratives my dreams end up with than I’d previously imagined. Amusingly, once the scenario had played to a point where I was happy, the dreamscape changed to one where I simply had to wake up, not because I was late but because I could be early. It was hard to argue against that, so I didn’t!

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Both of you: What were your last words?

Anasi told me every night before the act, “Promise you won’t give up.” She said it that night too, the night she died. I’ll always remember that. I’ll always remember how she held my face and looked me in the eye, and how she twisted my arm. Those were her last words, well, unless you want to count her calling out to me before we fell.

My last words… I don’t remember the last words I actually spoke. Probably pejoratives. I do remember wanting to live, wondering if my life was going to end, thinking that I was going to disappoint the Sexy Six, and… and I remember thinking about Kendra and how sorry I was.

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holy shit, i did not realise you made that post i've seen it on my dash so many fucking times. i'm gonan cry now. you're making me cry, cami

nich. nich. i made that shit on like july 7th 2012. think about that next time you take a dump

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Grumbles angrily I have a huge gay crush on Scottish accents and gruff/burly Scottish dudes

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On top of a spectacularly shitty day in which I overslep, barely made it to work on time, was behind all day because of it, left late because the manager waited until 30 minutes before I had to leave to say he had hour long job for me, had a painful experience at the plasma place I’m still bleeding from, was very nearly in a terrible car accident on the way home, I scratched my car coming in the garage. Everything else I could deal with, but not my fucking car.

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