Andare, Partire, Tornare

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Birthdays, dog drool, graduations, and other milestones of life

The weekends have become a blur of dog hair, squelchy shoes, stupid customers, and the occasional highlight of getting peed on by a dachshund named Cinnamon.

But this weekend, through evil improvisational plotting skills, the horrible work-treadmill was interrupted by a surprise birthday party consisting of Persia, Cherbear, Boop, and the Bemo. Plus cheesecake. Mmmmm, cheesecake.

I was lured over to Persia's house under the impression that we were about to move two large potted plants from her house to her mom's new place. I was still dressed in my work duds, reeking of unwashed poodle, twelve different kinds of shampoo, and the aforementioned dachshund urine when I entered the house with Boop and was greeted by Persia and Cher brandishing gifts and yelling "happy birthday!" Awww. They love me. They really love me! We had an awesome time, and they are going to double-team me (no, not like that, you perverts) and physically force me to complete my thesis. I already have a deadline set to turn in a working bibliography to them. And let me tell you what, they're harsh taskmistresses.

Boop graduated on Sunday! What's funny about that is that she had no idea she was graduating magna cum laude until they announced it during the ceremony. She got a hood (plain yellow) which surprised me - I've never seen hoods given out for high school or college graduation, just for MA's and up. (Plus with the MA you get the Stayfree Gown with Wings) But what this means is that Boop is officially free of high school and can prepare to get the hell out of Dodge and off to college. She's not entirely free of the Black Beast from the Pit, but the strings, they begin to loosen.

Speaking of the Black Beast, she wants to give me and the Bemo money for a downpayment on a house. Yes, I know that calling your mother an evil nether goddess from the deepest pits of hell and then mentioning that she wants to help you achieve the dream of every redblooded American (that being homeownership and banging a supermodel, except I'm not so much wanting to pursue the supermodel thing) is somewhat contradictory. But, you know, it's all true. She is a foul spawn of the pit, and she also will give me money. With massive strings attatched, but I suppose if you see the strings and accept the strings, at least you know what you're letting yourself in for. Bemo and I are starting to casually research homes, because we're not sure that mom's offer will last once her attention span runs dry and don't want to get to the point of being about to close on a home and have her go, "You know, something's come up. I think this house thing will have to wait." Cher and Persia seem to think that the purchase of a house would be a great thing, and I suppose it is, but I'm scared out of my mind by the idea. Hell, I shook for a week signing the papers for the purchase of the truck, and that was a a tenth of the cost a house would be. But it seems if we can look further out away from the city, and suck up a longer commute, it just might be doable. Maybe. Possibly. I'll keep you lot informed.

10:38 a.m. - 2003-06-09

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