It’s like the song that doesn’t end. About llamas.

And it’s funny, and no, I don’t know why.

Snatched it from her. (She’s funny, too.)

I had the most fascinating dream last night. Equal parts disturbing and hilarious, I dreamed about these guys who liked me in high school. For some reason, I tend to have this remarkable ability to attract, shall we say, the quirky guys. One wore all black and stared at me from across the room. He left notes in my locker and kinda freaked me out. There was another who was really smart, insanely hyper and seriously annoying. He finally told me (two years after high school) that the reason he constantly argued with me was because he had a crush on me. Lovely.

The third was this sweet, adorable guy who was my friend. Blond and blue-eyed, he loved computers (ooo.. plus!) and always seemed to be in a good mood. I dated a football player at another school, though, and wasn’t interested in my friend in that way at all. But I knew he liked me. Everybody did.

Two years after high school, he’d grown five inches, put on some muscle and become insanely jaded about the world. And he didn’t have a problem making a play for me—the shy, insecurity of high school had flown right out the window. He turned out to be a fantastic kisser, but while both of us wanted something more, I had moved by that time and was only visiting. He’d only taken a few college classes, and wasn’t interested in going back for more… so I suggested he fly out to where I was, just for a little while, and see if he liked it. He liked that plan, but never followed through. You see, I mean seriously jaded, and I’m kinda glad he never came out here. He’s been depressed for awhile, and I can’t help him.

Anyway, so it’s down to the wire for me. I go home in six weeks and I know I’m going to see two of them. I don’t know what will happen exactly, but I’m nervous. The last I heard, he had bought a condo and switched jobs. He wanted me to move back, and in, with him. That’s not going to happen, but when we’re around each other, something inevitably does.

My dream? We were back in high school, but we were the people we are now. And it didn’t work there, either.

Probably a damn sign.

My sister never emails. Ever. Or for that matter, calls really. So an email from her can’t be good news.

My dad got in a car accident this morning—he’s OK, no worries. He drives a Jeep you know. 😛 Teenage girl nailed the passenger side, and probably totalled her car.

The first time I remember my dad getting in a car accident was many, many years ago, when he had a little car. He was all of two minutes from our house when a drunk driver nailed him at an intersection one cold, rainy, Sunday morning. He had to be pried from the car, but fortunately only suffered minor injuries… broken ribs, bruised organs, etc. I was maybe nine at the time, and all I remember was my sister was mad she didn’t get to go with him on his rounds that morning. (On Sundays, before church, we sometimes went with him… mainly because the nurses loved us and gave us ice cream at 8AM. 🙂 ) Had she gone that morning, she wouldn’t have made it. His car was obliterated.

That’s when he bought his first Jeep. And when he decided that his daughters would only ever drive Jeeps—as long as he had any say about it.

With all the accidents my sister and I have gotten into—her, seven at least (including an incident with a school bus and a guard rail), and I, three (two tiny, one major)—my dad has always been glad he got us Jeeps.

I just got off the phone with my mom—apparently my dad is at the dealership where we’ve purchased all of our vehicles (and then some) and they’ve handed him the keys to the new 2006 Grand Cherokee something-or-other to drive while his is being worked on. My mom’s guess? “He’ll probably just upgrade at this point—after driving it, you know he’ll want it.” 🙂

This will be vehicle number 13 we’ve gotten from there (including my sister’s ex-husband’s family who got two)… don’t you think there should be a “Buy 13, Get 1 Free” deal? lol

So I promised pictures from when my parents were here and we went to the oh-so-lovely tractor parade, and today I finally got my firewire cord back…

The tractor parade… see, I told you.

The giant cow. I asked my dad if he wanted to go and stand by it while I took a picture… his response, “Do you want me to pretend I’m giving it a mammogram?” Yup. That’s my dad, lol.

Say it with me now… “ewww.”

Since I know how much Harley loves toe socks, I couldn’t resist… lol.

My dad scared me shitless with this thing.

It’s freaking uge. (No, that’s not a spelling error—it’s a word. 😉 )

My dad in the rearview mirror. Isn’t he cute? 🙂

My dad using his loops to fix my windchime. It’s so handy to have a doctor for a father. 🙂

There are more, but I’ll spare you.

People dragging their rolley trashcans down the driveway in the rain, mere moments after I accidentally watched Scream 3.

Scary. As. Hell.

Witness the return of the early morning drunken phone calls.

Girls suck.

Hello?

Hi! How are you? Missed you!

Um. What do you want?

You sound tired?

It’s 4 in the MORNING on a SUNDAY.

Right. OK. You know, I should just call you back tomorrow.

Good plan.

I haven’t talked to you in ages. I’ve missed you.

Uh huh. You too.

Wow, you really sound tired.

::growling noise:::

There’s the girl I know and love… OK, I’ll call you back tomorrow.

Good.

I just want to say. Girls suck. A lot. And they play games. And I hate games. And why can’t they be like guys?

Ah I see. What did she do exactly? And which one is this?

We were dating and I thought it was going well and now she just doesn’t want to anymore and I’m moving to Florida. Definitely. In three months.

Oh that’s good.

Yeah, ’cause then I can call you at a normal time for me—and you.

Good plan.

Night. I LOVE you. Miss you. Talk to you tomorrow.

Love you too Sawyer. Go to sleep.

Isn’t she adorable?

I don’t know why I’m calling you. I just picked up the phone and dialed your number. I don’t know why. I’m so stressed out. I want to quit the paper. I don’t know what to do.

D?

Yes, sorry, hi, it’s D.

What on earth is going on? Are you OK? Calm down. What’s wrong?

I don’t know. Everything.

I was the managing editor of my college newspaper my senior year. My job was to be the other half for the editor in chief. I was the copy chief, I dealt with the writers, I rewrote stories, I did layout, I did final edits, etc., etc., etc. And I took a full courseload, worked full time and spent 30 hours a week at an internship.

Needless to say, my last year of college is a bit of a blur—and not for the normal reasons.

One of the things the editor and I did was to groom our sports editor for the following year. He’s a nice guy, mellow though, and we didn’t have a very large staff of writers… we three did the heavy lifting. It was a highly charged, ridiculously stressful year.

D was a sophomore when I was there. Painfully shy and very quiet, she didn’t have many friends and seeing as I was a senior, our paths rarely crossed. But one of my professor friends recommended her to me as a copy editor and said I should try and draw her out of her shell. It turned out that we ended up becoming friends on a trip to Ireland. The girl I went with and the girl she went with knew each other and we all ended up hanging out.

D and I stayed friends, and I convinced her, under much duress, to join the college paper. I prepared the sports editor for how to deal with her (quiet, homeschooled, doesn’t respond to conflict/anger.. etc.) and by all accounts, everything was going well.

Until this past week. There was some sort of massive row where he ended up yelling and she has given him the silent treatment for four days.

I haven’t talked to D for probably two months, while the last I spoke with him was two weeks ago…

In the span of two hours, they’ve both called me about the other and the situation.

He called because he knows that I’m really the only one who he knows who would understand how stressed out he is right now. She called because she wanted advice.

They were both so angry, though, that all they needed was a good rant.

So they ranted and I listened and I think I’m going to have to facilitate a meeting of some sort, because both are stubborn and incredibly pissed.

I thought I’d never have to deal with these problems once I left college.

Sigh.

Never, ever, ever think you can work at home when your parents are visiting.

Mother of god.

I am in my guestroom/office, holed up with both my cats (as they don’t like anyone but me), desperately attempting to work.

I kept getting interrupted with questions, etc., so I finally made it perfectly clear that I need to work uninterrupted.

They are in my kitchen, all of ten feet from me (the doors are shut), having decided to REARRANGE my kitchen furniture… because they think it will be better.

I liked my kitchen.

They are now talking to each other re: a) I haven’t cleaned my vacuum cleaner in ages (according to my mom), and I must have an entire cat in there, and b) arguing about where the best place is to put my microwave.

Kill me.

I am exhausted.

I drove almost 500 miles today. I’ve been up since 7 and it’s almost midnight. I want to go to bed.

My dad slept most of the way and when we got back into town, around 9PM, he wanted to stop at Home Depot. An hour later we were home. Now he has taken apart my shower door. I asked him not to, I want to shower and go to bed. Did I mention I have to work in the morning?

No, no, he said. It won’t take long and it needs to get done.

Kill me. Please. Someone.

My dad is driving me batshit.

Mom and I are ready to leave him with the neighbors.