June 27, 1998

Notice the drop shadow. I just learned that. I never knew before how to do such things.

Ann had fun at the prom, but the dance club they went to (Speed) was "ghetto" and my sister and her eloquent friends put it. But they had fun.

I got that Loreena McKennitt song, The Mummers' Dance. It's that spooky celtic song. I like it. I got the single because I'm poor. I also got socks. Mine have holes in them....but I wear sandals all summer anyway. Brian and I found the stereo of my dreams, and I may have bought it if I had been able to get in touch with my mother. But alas, my mother was out and I have saved my money until I have her approve the purchase, as is wise to do. ;)

So, um...I went to the beach with all my sister's buddies and Brian the other night. My sister smoked a whole cigar on her own. I was shocked. I took two tiny drags and Brian wouldn't come near me. I don't blame him, but still....waaahhh!! But one of Ann's friends showed me how to harm myself with nunchucks. It was cool, and no Kathies were actually harmed in the making of that evening.

So, um...I have to clean Baxter's cage. Man, he stinks. But first, I have to coax him outta that dang blasted cage!!! He just doesn't want to leave. I can't even convince him to come out for food. He just reaches out two little paws to steady himself and reaches out for the food, then hops back into the wheel or his house. I think I'll put him in the big fish tank, he may have more room and be easier to coax out. I don't want to just grab him and scare the piss out of the poor critter (literally or figuratively), but he's getting to be a little hermit. Grrr.

Okeh...I have cleaned the rodent's home. He's a filthy little bugger. He was poopin' and peein' in his little house, and sleepin' there too! I decided that this was a bad thing, so now Baxter has no little house. All the bedding was so nasty that I didn't even bother saving him a little so he'd feel at home. I just tossed in a whole bunch of new stuff after trashing the old. He's got cotton balls now to build his home with. Should be neat.

I went on the boat today. Didn't ski all too much because it was choppy and un-nice. Also, when I did go out, I tried out the skis Brian bought two years ago when he skiied without my family. They suck. A lot. I could hardly get the skis on, and they were unevenly buoyant...the back ends kept floating up when I tried to get them on. Then I finally got them on and they were too loose. Combine this with gale-force winds (not really, but it was freakin' nuts to be trying to ski in that kind of wind) and waves crashing over my head. And the water was cold too. And full of seaweed.

Needless to say I got back into the boat quickly. I am a wuss. Bad conditions and I do not mix. I do not desire pain.

Brian, on the other hand, does desire pain...or so it seems. He went skiing on the trick skis (and did all the spinning around and stuff), slalom (one ski, for all you snow people) which he was surprisingly awesome at, and again.

And we're going tomorrow morning too.

Um...Brian got a DVD player. He's really happy. It totally kicks ass. We were watching Lethal Weapon 3, widescreen, in Spanish, with French subtitles. It was fun. We did watch most of the movie normal (In English, no subtitles, and widescreen, of course!) but Brian's dad's girlfriend Blanka speaks mostly Spanish, so she got a kick out of the movie beening played in Spanish. Brian's Dad talked about getting a DVD player for himself, just because of the Spanish dialogue options. Brian and his father are hysterical to watch together. Brian gets so serious about what he's discussing, and his dad keeps making wise guy remarks, and Brian ignores the wise guy remarks until I point out that his Dad is teasing him...at which point Brian says something along the lines of "Oh, I know...but I should care why?" and kicks right back into whatever he's talking about. It's like a comedy club in that house sometimes.

Then Brian's little brother screams up the stairs "Dad! Adrianna's smoking!!!" Adrianna's five. His brother is the lovable age of fifteen.

Sometimes I worry.

The obligatory haiku of the day:

Eerie. Spooky. Now
open the creaking door of
the old haunted house.