11:25 AM  ()
there's something about.
Lunch with Dad today. I was going to go in some place and ask for a damn job, but I'll do that tomorrow morning because it's far too close to lunch time and they'll think I'm an asshole.

Erin's spending time with me today. We're dropping off boots for Kyla. Oh, yay. I get to drive into Calgary twice today. And I have no cigarettes. I usually smoke while I drive, so I'm going to go nuts or something.

September 28, 2003
4:29 PM  ()
unknown, i love.
Well, we took out that roast last night, right? And now we're apparently not even eating it. All this hassle for nothing. "Jackie's thinking of taking us out for dinner after we get off the course," and I have no idea if that includes me or not. And to be honest, I don't want to go, because I know my Dad's going to try and pay for the whole damn thing and he has got to stop spending money.

I could just make the roast anyway, but then what's the point? I'm not going to eat all of it, and I most definitely can't feed any of it to my sweater of a dog.

I just fell asleep for about an hour, and I woke up just before I drooled all over myself. My mouth was barely open, so that confused me but I thought nothing more of it than just me almost drooling all over myself. The house is absolutely freezing. It's ridiculous. Haha, what a weird day. Clifford called this morning! I came close to jumping over the coffee table here in the living room when my Dad told me who it was on the phone. Haha, I felt like a little kid.

Iced Tea is so awesome right now.

2:58 AM  ()
let's excite each others hearts.
I want to write a song with you.
Not necessarily about us, but just written by us. It can be about anything. It can be about murder.

September 27, 2003
11:21 PM  ()
just a pathetic girl, right now.
takearoastoutthefreezer, takearoastoutthefreezer, takearoastoutthefreezer.

I burst into tears for the third night in a row. I am incredibly angry and depressed and I'm doing absolutely nothing with my life in order to distract me from thinking about how fucking lonely I am right now. And I can't believe how sorry I'm feeling for myself. I hate it, and I've been trying constantly for the past 24 hours to knock it off, but the more I try the more I feel sorry for myself. It's pathetic. It's actually quite revolting. But I can't help it.

I was expecting a little more tonight.
I had an excellent night with my Dad, but I had one thing on my mind. I've had one thing on my mind all day. And all last night. And all yesterday. And I still want to throw objects at the wall in disgust. I am so incredibly pissed off and I shouldn't be. I want to get drunk. I haven't said that whilst being angry in a long time. A very long time. I want to get right fucking ripped and sit on the couch and think about nothing. Go, literally, numb and blankly stare at the television screen and think about nothing. I won't do it, of course, because I'm much stronger than that. I'll just sit here and do what I'm loathing completely right now. I'll sit here and run through different possible scenerios and become paranoid and scared, and I'll start hearing noises and then I'll have a nightmare. I'll pity myself, and wish I was doing something with my life instead of actually getting off my ass and making plans. Less talk, more rock.

I was expecting more.

11:37 AM  ()
dick, dale, rick, and ricky.
I can't believe how angry I was last night. No, I was mega pissed, and I can still admit to the fact that I'm sure I'll be quite an angry girl this weekend. That's pretty lame, I think, but I'm not sure I'm going to be able to help it.

Dad gets home around 1:30-2:00, I should throw on some clothes and re-straighten my hair. We have to go in to Calgary for a bit to help my brother, Jason, move store. He's merging with another company. And then we don't have much time to help him out, because we have to be back at home in order to get dressed up for Stage West (dinner & a play). It's an English-comedy, apparently. I'm actually a little excited to hear some different voices, eat some different food, spend an evening with my Dad. It's just going to be odd dressing up again. I have to find that black skirt, it basically looks like a business skirt. It's hot, though. I remember the last time I dressed up looking all professional, I wanted to have sex with myself. Actually, no. I just looked about 6 years older than I am or already do. It was fun. Was I hired? No. I was too hot for the job.

Wow, I'm angry and egotistical today. Excellent. Always a good combination. At least something will cheer me up.
I'm not going to be able to talk to Clifford until Monday, I'm assuming.
Unless I call him at 0.8736646237871538364 seconds into the freakin' morning. He'd kill me if I did that, he always gets pissed when I wake him up. Fuck this. I'll try not to think about it. (Oh, bad idea. That's not going to work.)

September 26, 2003
11:32 PM  ()
if i could have six months alone.
Okay, I was wrong. Things, right now, are okay with Sacha and her father. Thankfully. Goodness, that was scary. Results aren't in, though. He's going through exactly what my Mom went through. It breaks my heart.

This whole gap being created since I talked to Clifford last is depressing me. I shut the hell up around the time I got in the house, and I'm still out of sorts. I'm such a cheesy girl, but you know - the lack of conversation when you're in a relationship can really fucking get to you and it gets to you really fast. This is bull. I don't like this. I can't remember the last time I talked to him on the telephone. It was either last Saturday or the Monday that just passed. Going from every night to 4-5 day gaps isn't fun at all. I'm seriously going crazy here. Yeah, sure, we have a few minutes online here and there but that doesn't work for me. No, that doesn't work for me at all. I want to rip out my hair. I want to throw breakable objects at walls in disgust.

Erin and I had a fun night last night. Talked to Billy for a few minutes before he fell asleep. Of course, Erin and I were drunk off our asses and taking ridiculous pictures of ourselves on the webcam (which weren't sent anywhere, thankfully). Two drunken nights in a row. Ha, partying on weeknights. Excellent. Wednesday was just too amazing, though. That's made my year; seeing Billy, and then The Black Halos performing. Too fantastic.

Ah, that makes me smile.
But I still miss Clifford terribly and I still want to rip out my hair.

This is what I wrote in Saskatchewan about the spreading of my Mother's ashes:
September 20, 2003

Experience of Mazenod

Upon arrival we had twenty minutes to spare. We browsed around the small town for a couple of minutes as Joey remembered events and telling us of his first experience with Death (a Father of a kid him and his friends used to play with was doing some sort of repair work to a grain truck with a blow torch and came too close to a fuel tank, the tank blew up – Joey and a friend of his saw this black smoke from a ways out of town as they were on a bike adventure). We then went to the neighbor to the right of their old residence (which is still standing to this date) to see if he would allow us in the house next door and if he had any objections to what we planned on doing. No one answered the door; we went into the house anyway.

We walked along the backyard and opened the door. The house is falling apart now, but you could tell there had been some fun life inside of it. First we came into the kitchen. Cupboard doors unable to close and pretty much hanging in the air, old medications and pop bottles (dating back to 1986, I decided to take a few for myself among other things) including an old Pringles chip can on the counter. The window curtains were vaguely familiar to Joey; I made the assumption that these were the curtains that were hanging on the windows when Mom and he lived there with Dennis Rogers (we came across a mug with his name on it, leading us to the conclusion that he definitely was the last person to live in the house).

Walking into the living room next was quite the sight. The roof was caving in; there were old pieces of furniture in the middle of the room. Old pieces of paper, government papers, etc. Scraps of clothing, etc. Joey’s room was next. The rooms were what interested me the most. Joey’s had been used by someone after he had been in it. Joey remembers Mom telling him something about Dennis getting married after they had left. Anyway, there were many old Penthouse Magazines; the one I kept was dated back to 1979. I found this one in the closet (I don’t even want to know why it was in there) with some old ‘70s plaid work shirts still hung nicely on the rack. I picked up another few things from that room (books) including a very old version, and torn almost to pieces, of the collection of J.R.R Tolkien's Lord of the Rings books. The second room was where my Mom and Dennis slept. Red shag carpeting, the works. The door, going in, was light blue and purple. You could tell they tried to really psyche the place up. Very groovy, ha. I liked it and I now know why Mom had such an obsession with small old houses. She’s got me hooked on them, even. I took so many pictures of the place, and I know I’ll find them all quite fascinating. There was a basement as well but the stairs were missing, there was no way we were going down there.

At exactly 2:00 pm we spread some of our Mother’s ashes in the backyard and had a teary moment, but I don’t think I can express the great feeling of appreciation and gratitude I have now of my Mother’s life. Driving away from the town I had a smile on my face, I am now very glad to be here. I am very glad to be doing this for her. We are now on our way back to Bateman to do the same thing. Unfortunately their house is no longer standing and the property is overgrown with long grass. I’m pretty sure I will have the same feeling leaving, though.

Coming here and thinking of my Mother in the 1970’s leaves me with knowing that she really did have a blast out here in Saskatchewan. She lived such a full and interesting life. I used to know that fact by only her telling me so, but now I can feel it. Coming out here in 1997 I could not, she was here and I wasn’t old enough to appreciate anything to its fullest. I, to be quite honest, thought this was the most boring place in existence on the entire given planet. During that particular visit, I was not impressed. It really is amazing how many things you take for granted in life.


Experience in Bateman

The first stop in the good old abandoned town, Bateman, was the half demolished and crumbling school that Joey attended as a kid and the reunion in 1997 was held for (all those who attended the school were to come to the reunion for the final closing of the school). There were many pictures taken. We’ve got 4 shots left of 3 film canisters. I had a blast with the photography; I got a bunch of shots that we had also previously taken before the school had any harm done to it. Of course there were “No Trespassing” signs posted all over the place. We didn’t go inside the building due to the fear of the entire thing falling upon us, so the windows seemed like good openings (heh).

Second stop was the main street. I got a few shots of the remaining buildings (Al’s Repair, the Museum and the Fire Hall), and then we headed down the road to the old church and the post office building. Also a large barn structure that Joey says used to be the ice rink. I can’t say this experience was as physically interesting as we had in Mazenod, but the place seemed incredibly peaceful just as it did during my previous visit. The house where Joey and Mom lived in while they were there is no longer standing. There are three young trees right smack in the middle of where their house used to stand, but it was all more than satisfactory. We spread the ashes; I laid down a few prayers in my head for our Mother. And just like last time, it was incredibly quiet and all you could hear was the wind and crickets. Oh, the crickets. How disgusting that was. I’m not a big fan of crickets, but the sound of them totally added to the moment, they portrayed such a calm sound for the moment along with the wind, making the experience that much more beautiful.

Mom, the sun’s beating down on me as I write this during this drive back to Gravelbourg. We love you, and we will always love you. And now that you are here, I think Saskatchewan won’t be so boring in my mind anymore. Ha. Going into that house in Mazenod, though, gave me a glimpse as to what it was like for Joey and yourself. I can see you standing in the kitchen calling for Joey for any reason; I can picture you in my mind just living every day life. I like that.

I’ll be honest with you, being eighteen years old and just having to attend your own Mother’s funeral just over a month ago is a very hard thing to imagine even after having experienced it. But now that I’ve been here, it’s starting to give me a slight bit of closure. It feels good, knowing that she is here, knowing that she will also be where she’s always talked about (us spreading ashes over her own Mother’s grave in England), and knowing that she will continuously be in our hearts, our minds, and part of our souls forever more. Just an incredibly comforting thought overall. She’s everywhere. She was the dust on the old books I picked up, and even kept. She is those cupboard doors, she touched them. She is the red shag carpeting in that abandoned room; she is the garden in my backyard. She is the ring on my finger; she will forever be the colours my Father, brother, and I will see for the rest of our given lives. She is the beauty in our worlds, and many others. She is my definition of freedom and wonder. And now she has the entire universe to roam. I find that to be the most precious piece of knowledge in my mind.

9:38 PM  ()
repair work to a grain truck.
Tonight is going to be a f*cked up night. Sacha's on her way over. Something's wrong. Something's very wrong, I'm thinking.

And Dad's on the phone talking to someone. He's teary eyed. "I lost my best friend, and my soul mate," he just said. They're asking about Mom. It's Michelle, one of Mom's long time friends. God damn it, I don't know what to do right now other than pace around the house.

September 25, 2003
1:03 PM  ()
the nerve that some people have.
First I have to say it again.
The Black Halos rocked my socks last night. I have a bruise on my finger (and all over my legs), and it's pretty odd. I've never had a bruise on my finger before. There's a first.

Something I need to get off my chest.
I had this girl in my life, and I've just recently been trying to push her right out. Yes, I'm going to write about this because it's amazing how many people lack a brain. I was let down twice, and I don't usually let that happen. If I'm let down once, that's usually the end. It's very rare I give a second chance, and I'm sure people I went to school with can vouch for that. Past school friendships deteriorated only because of a relationship, and that hurt me, and I haven't opened up my life very much to any of them since. Anyhow, it's amazing how much nerve this girl has. Someone who continuously tells you they love you and how you're their 'best friend' clues you in a bit on their immaturity with the two words. I don't believe I ever once told her that I considered her that close, my boyfriend is my best friend, and I have no reason to say otherwise. I can't imagine how a brain can possibly work so warped like; so ridiculous and moronic. I don't understand it. And the fact that this girl is psychotic enough to think that I would use her as a last resort. "I won't hold anything against you when you need to sob on my shoulders," or some shit like that. I couldn't believe it. I could not believe it. Who says that? Who has the nerve to say that? Obviously this girl does. This fucked up child that doesn't understand she's allowed to be 17 years old, she doesn't have to act any older than that. And the fact that she makes absolutely no sense when you read something she's written to you. It's very rare she makes sense at all. And that doesn't mean her intellect is far beyond mine, that doesn't mean a thing. It's just amazing how much a person can try and fail and try and fail. Try and learn, darling. Try and learn.

I want to rip my face off, I am so frustrated with this. I suppose it's nice because she's trying to show support for what I'm going through, but the last time I fell for that she fucked it up. I'm not falling for it again. I'm not allowing my problems to be part of her dramatic story. She is not allowed to talk to people about me and my situation in order to make them feel sorry for her anymore. That's just sick. It's sick.

Lauryn, my Mom died and I don't want you having any part in the process of my healing, alright?

I'm done, and she knows it. I have the few people I need to support me. And if they're not home when I call, I can wait until they get home. I'm sorry, dear, but I will never have the need to use your telephone number again. I've already forgotten them, I didn't bother remembering them the second time. I shouldn't be apologizing for anything.

1:40 AM  ()
alright, fuck you. get this!
Tonight was phenomenal. I am amazed. Three great bands, and The Black Halos just blew me away. The two newest members were just great, and they're such wonderful people. And Rob & Jay were just fantastic. I told Rob he had to kick some ass tonight, and he promised he would. And he did. He kicked MY ass tonight with that drumming of his. And Billy. Oh, Billy Hopeless. My dear, I love you very much and you made my night a very memorable one and I thank you so much for that. Even for the god damn wedgy! I tried to get you back but it didn't work too well, did it? Ha.

We (Mike, Cory, and I) arrived at the four way stop in Airdrie as you're just driving in and I started begging him to take me back because I missed Billy already. Damnit, I have to visit him, and I have to keep in touch with him. He does mean a lot to me, and you must know that, Billy. Always keep that in mind.

Oh man, alright. Tonight was fucking great. Beyond words. Phenomenal. I didn't want it to end. Ha, Rob thanked me for staying up front for the entire duration of the Black Halos' set. I thought that was sort of funny. Of course I was going to stay up there for the entire duration of the set no matter how bruised and beaten I was getting!

Singing with you, Billy, was so much fun.

My hair is so curly now due to the fact that I have all my sweat, and Billy's sweat (and some of other people's sweat) all over me. I'm going to be a disgusting whore and not shower until tomorrow because this is just too great.

Fuck, I've never met such a nice group of men.
I am so happy my favourite band is back together, and I am so happy that they did so well tonight. They rocked my fucking heart right out.

September 24, 2003
6:23 PM  ()
and the night begins.
I've fallen in love with a song that makes me want to (and I already have done) sob like crazy, "Eden" by Hooverphonic. Fantastic.

1. Clifford's message on my cellphone was hilarious. I love you too, Mr. Showtime.

2. The girl with f*cking nerve.

3. Care package recieved from the infamous Debra, Clifford's step-mother. That was actually really nice, made me more than smile. I got socks! I love socks.

4. The Black Halos. 'nough freakin' said.
Mike's picking me up in 10 minutes, we're going to browse around Calgary for a bit before we head to the bar. The doors open around 8:00, the show will probably start a year later, but it's all so exciting. It's just too bad Rich is no longer in the band, because I'd probably try to molest him. So, I suppose it benefits one person - Clifford. Haha, no. I'm joking. Rich is a friend, and I'd never molest him, although I had thought about it 2 years prior to this entry.

10:12 AM  ()
you get the car, i'll get the knife.
I'm not apologizing for that previous entry. Onwards...
Countdown: 15 days.

What's the deal for tonight? Well, I'm going to see the good old Black Halos play. Although some of the original members will not be there for they have moved on since the break-up, it'll be great, I'm sure. I just have to find out where it is, I believe I saw the address somewhere on Indecline.net, but I'll check the phone book 'n shit in a bit. Mike Johnson's picking me up around a certain time. I have to give Kirby his $15, I have to talk to him about that, I have to talk to him before he flees anywhere. That man has my ticket! Wonderful man.

My dog's no longer f-u-c-k-e-d. He was really messed up last night, and so was I. Ugh, I want to quit smoking so badly. I can go almost all day without a cigarette and then I cave in the evening or late afternoon when my Dad comes home. It's not his fault, but I just want to go out in the back for a smoke with him; find out how his day went, you know?

I was up too late last night. I woke up at 9:30 this morning. This is good. I'm starting to get back on track. You know, the whole not being able to sleep past 9:00 thing? Maybe that's kicking in, again. I'm hungry and I don't know what I want.

It's looking sort of nice outside.
Oh, yeah, and if you haven't noticed (doubtful seeing as it's quite fucking different) I changed my layout again. Live with it. I have to work on that writing community I've been wanting to start. I will do that, maybe later this afternoon. I have to get something up letting people know something or anything, you know? I'm a big idiot, sometimes.

2:23 AM  ()
just do it, okay? even if you hear noises.
I can definitely tell you one thing right now, I am not feeling so hot. I miss my Mother terribly, and I'm going through a bit of an emotional block right now. I want to cry and I want create fucking rivers with them, but I can't. I can't bring myself to cry. I can't help but wonder why. I want to feel sorry for myself right now, okay? I'm eighteen years old. She was taken from me too early, wasn't she? I suppose not, I suppose it was her time. But why? Why was it her time? I miss her. I want her here. I want her here right now. Okay, the tears are coming. Just somebody answer me this, please. I feel tiny, I feel very tiny. I feel like I can hide in a closet and nobody will find me. Finally I see her run frantically by looking for me and I can jump out and she'll jump and then she'll tell me how much I scared her and she'll hug me and pick me up and sit me on her lap in the living room and kiss my face all over. I want her to be upstairs, I want her to be sitting next to me. I want her to drive me and let me be terrified of it (she was a bad driver).

I want my Mom.

I wish she was here so much. She'd help me with anything, you know that? No matter how mad she was about it, she'd help me do something about it and she'd help me through it. Anything, fucking anything.

I'm a little fucked up tonight. I did it to myself. I thought too much. I wished too much. I tried too hard to see her. I tried too hard to find her in between the lines.

We went to the veterinary clinic today. I pet a dog about 5 minutes before she was put down. And then this gigantic Mother's Day (they haven't changed the sign since) sign came across the electrical scroll sign and it said "Remember Mom" with a rose. It stayed up there for what seemed like hours. Dad and I just sort of stared at it. I muttered an "ouch" afterwards. He said, "yea". I miss her. I fucking miss her. I want her here. I want to talk to her. I just want to fucking talk to her. I want to hug her. I want to kiss her. I want to tell her how much I love her. I want to see her smile. I want to see her. I just want to see her. I want to touch her hair. I want to hold her hand, again.

I will never have these things again.
There's so much in life we take for granted. People, I don't fucking care what your relationship is like with your parents, but if it's decent enough for you to be able to hug them by the end of the day, just do it. Do it, okay? Do it, because I can't hug both of mine anymore. And you have no idea how much that hurts. And to those who do, I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I can't believe she's dead. I can't believe she's fucking dead. My Mother is dead. That still doesn't register properly with me. I don't know what to do with myself right now.

I'm very lost tonight and I'm going straight into another anxiety attack. Oh, fucking excellent.

September 23, 2003
8:11 PM  ()
oh, chico.
My poor dog is so wobbly and doped up on anesthetic (fuck, I don't care if I spelled that right or not), and he looks drunk. He's hilarious, though. He'll be fine by tomorrow.

8:53 AM  ()
just a little something, i guess.
I went to bed around 9:45 last night, I fell asleep pretty much straight away. I woke up this morning around 8:30, there's a few things I have to do.
1. Call Pretty Paws and make an appointment for the dog (remember, Dad doesn't want him cut because he always comes back with something hurting him - so just ask for them to bathe him and brush him out).
2. Check out this fucking lame ass job I found on a job posting board yesterday. I can't even remember what it is, I just remember it has something to do with clothing and labour. "Salary: Negotiable." No, no, I want an hourly wage - please. Just for part time, just to screw over in a month or so. "Hey, yeah, bye! I'm moving to Ontario now. Have fun!"
3. Remember to get Dad to take Chico to the veterinary clinic because his squealing is definitely caused by some sort of pain in his backside.
4. Wake the fuck up.

Actually, I am pretty awake. I just have to get off my ass and do things. Maybe I should do some cleaning.
5. Clean upstairs bedroom for I just slept in it last night, tidy the stupid thing up.
6. Do something about my own bedroom.

I have no money, and I already owe Kirby $15. Tomorrow is Black Halo's night, right? Tomorrow night is the 24th, right? Yes, it is. And uh, well. I'm going to have to ask my Dad for $15, and I'm going to but I'm so sick of asking him for money I don't have. I'm sick of not having money. I'm sick of being financially unstable even in my own fucking house. And I'm sick of living with him. Erin found a pretty cool receptionist job on that job board, I wish I could have snagged that. Haha, oh well. I can look for something else. I'm ready to settle for anything right now. You know, one of those jobs you'll just take in order to make money and will never ever put it on your resume? It kind of becomes one of those unspoken jobs you had in your past? Yeah, if I accept or even get this job at this fucking lame ass clothing factory - first, I'll cry - second, I'll be glad to make money (depending on what they decide to give me, it's it's god damn minimum wage I'm out of there in a heartbeat). Another thing I need to knock off, being so picky. I'm too picky. I need to make all of this work. I have to. And it will, but why did I quit my stupid job at the gas station? Oh yeah, because I couldn't think of anything else but my Mother while on shift. That's it. Good reason to quit. Okay, so... now what? I'm a big loser and forever will be unless I smarten the hell up.

Oh, yeah! The countdown I last posted was incorrect. But this one IS correct: 16 days. SIXTEEN DAYS. Heather is one excited girl.

September 21, 2003
11:01 PM  ()
home sweet fucking home.
I'm home now. I recieved 3 excellent voice mail messages from my lover boy over there in Ontario. (Clifford, I'm sorry my phone wasn't on. It was impossible to turn it on because it freakin' died this evening. I hate it. I hate cellphones. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. And we were late coming home. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Blame the United States.) 2 excellent voice mail message from Rtin (Erin). And she will, hopefully, be coming over tonight if she's still up for it.

My Dad's not home. He's on his way. And he's going to have a beer and smoke my smelly american cigarettes with me. It's going to be awesome. Ugh, they're so raunchy.

8:01 AM  ()
the morning of the day back.
Alright, so it was damn near impossible to fall asleep when I wanted to due to Eldon & Joey cracking disgusting jokes and giggling like school girls until 12:30 a.m. I then forced them both out of the room for a cigarette, that was my payback because neither one of them wanted to go.

My stomach is hurting because I ate. I ate too early, and that's not a good thing at all. And it's going to be an 11 hour drive home. Not a normal 7 or 8 hour, an 11 hour. Why? Because we're going back through the United States. All because of me. I'm a big idiot. But I'll make the best of it.

September 19, 2003
7:42 AM  ()
well, back in three days.
My eyes are stinging because I haven't had enough sleep. Good job, Heather. Good job.
I'm cut off from Mr. Clifford for three days. Aw, this is crap.

September 18, 2003
11:15 PM  ()
cap the old times.
I'll be leaving tomorrow morning around 9:00 a.m. for three days. Saskatchewan. It's going to be interesting, I'm sure. We're on our way to Bateman, a completely abandoned town, to spread our Mom's ashes of the tiny urn Joey (my brother) was given. It'll be quite the drive, quite the quest.

Why Bateman?
Joey and my Mom lived there for years, and they had a blast when they lived there together. It was just after she left her ex-husband. Their bathroom was in the backyard, and she had to pump water every day. Ha. She had a blast. She always talked fondly of the place. I've been there before. It was for Joey's elementary school reunion. They were shutting the place down and they wanted everyone who had gone to that school to attend the closing. It was weird. I was really young, and I remember my Mom and Joey making fun of me when I really had to go to the bathroom and they threw me out of the car to go urinate behind an incredibly huge hay bale. They took a picture of me coming back out from behind it, that can be found somewhere on the internet. It's actually quite embarassing so I am not putting the link to that picture up. Ugh.

I can't believe how much my stupid wisdom tooth that's growing in is annoying me. Orajel works for maybe 5 seconds. Ice works for about 15 minutes. It doesn't hurt. It's just sovery annoying. I want to chew on absolutely everything, as I tell all.

Countdown: 19 days. 18, as of midnight. Mwaha.

September 17, 2003
5:50 PM  ()
the miners.
I swear I told her three times that I didn't want to die.

2:00 AM  ()
my favourite dreams of you still wash ashore.
I feel like a major fuck-up right now.

September 16, 2003
7:57 AM  ()
two quick things.
1. Crap, I don't think Clifford checked his e-mail this morning. Crap, crap, crap.

2. IT'S SNOWING OUTSIDE. I can't believe this. It's snowing in September.

September 15, 2003
11:03 PM  ()
hey, dad. no, dad. i love you, dad. what the hell just happened?
Tonight was fucked up. No, tonight was more than fucked up. Tonight consisted of a jolt of pure happiness and then a smack to both our young faces and then another jolt of pure happiness with one condition: complete and utter responsibility. At first, I was leaving Calgary on October 9th in the morning to fly to Toronto, and I would be coming home on the 19th of that very same month. 10 day visit. For some reason, my Father flipped. He flipped and he left me crying and rocking back and forth in the upstairs guest bedroom. He forced me to cancel the flight (which Clifford's Mom had paid for, but seeing as I cancelled it tonight - not tomorrow - she was able to get a full refund, which was good but I still felt fucking awful). I screamed at him, I swore at him like I've never sworn at him before. I talked to myself and begged for my Mother to help me out, to just show me what to do, or calm him down. He then came back for me, to talk to me. I was in the garage and he said we had to book the flight again. I said no. He wasn't taking that for an answer. We booked the flight again, the exact same flight. He actually booked a flight online, something he would never have done. And now I am leaving Calgary for Toronto on October 9th, in the morning, and returning on October 19th. But only on one condition: I must look for employment while I'm out there. He's not kicking me out. He just knows and figures that I am "obviously not motivated enough here". And he's right. But wow, this is going to be difficult. I'll figure out a way to do it, and it will be done, but it's become a big rush now. So, the next two weeks will be me finding ways to obtain some money for while I'm out there and just... yeah, you know?

Tonight was fucked up. And I really didn't think I was going to get my way with this. But I did. He doesn't think I know what I'm doing, and as of right now and that complete mess of my mind that occured tonight - I don't. But I will. And I will do it.

My Father is a good man. But just like any other Father, he can be an incredibly bad man. I am just surprised at this complete act of kindness that literally came out of nowhere. It was like my Mom slapped him in the face.

1:31 AM  ()
ashcroft sings.
http://www.cnn.com/video/us/2002/02/25/ashcroft.sings.wbtv.med.html

... And let your eyebrows rise.
Holy shit.

September 14, 2003
11:55 AM  ()
sit, stay.
I am disgusting and lazy. My hair is an absolute mess. Erin's talking to herself in her sleep. We have to leave at 2:00 for some birthday party for my 6 year old cousin. See, we were always invited to family stuff, but we never went. Now that they've all tried to be there as much as possible for my Dad and I, we feel an obligation to attend this kind of shit. We don't mind, but what do I know about a 6 year old? I was supposed to buy her something. I don't know what to buy for a six year old. This six year old wanted a foot-step-on garbage bin for her birthday from her grandparents, so they got it for her. This kid is absolutely (beautiful and) insane.

This weekend has been quite hilarious. I must recite something all over again: Kyle Moore is a big twat that doesn't know what the fuck he is talking about. Kyle Moore acts like he's 13 years old. Kyle Moore is a pigfucker. Kyle Moore isn't all that attractive at all. He doesn't handle being blown off very well. Not at all. Kyle Moore needs his teeth ripped out and his jaw sewn fucking shut. Along with his annoying younger brother. Addition: Kyle Moore will never set foot in my house again. Kyle Moore thinks all girls want to fuck him and it's most definitely not true. Kyle Moore will never be invited to eat my perogies again (I made him and the girls perogies). Fuck the sour cream, it is the sour cream's fault for us running into him. Kyle Moore deserves all sorts of STD's.

I should wake Erin up.

I miss Clifford like insane, and I now officially hate it when he's staying at his Dad's. Hate it. He's impossible to catch, and I'm impossible to catch, and we're playing phone tag and message tag and all this bull shit. Oh, man. I'm ready to just fly over there and tie him to a chair.

September 13, 2003
7:40 PM  ()
one word. so little time.
go here: ONE WORD

September 12, 2003
12:31 AM  ()
i'm thinking about you all of the time.
Dad asks, "Heather, how are you doing? You don't look alright. What's going on? Is it... what is it?"

Heather replies, "I miss him, Dad. I miss him and I feel like nothing without him."

Dad knows. He said he knew.

September 11, 2003
11:03 AM  ()
cold feet.
Dad wants me to go in (to Calgary) and meet him at the store, I think. I think he said that this morning when he woke me up to let me know he was leaving. I think, I think. I should call him on his cell phone. I want to shower first, though. I feel so gross. My back is aching a bit, so I should probably do a few excercises to loosen up before I go anywhere. I'm visiting Kyla this afternoon/evening, and it will be good. I keep telling her I'll come visit her and then I'm only with her for an hour tops and then I head back into town. I feel very bad about that. So, I plan on spending a little more time with her today. And, if that doesn't work out, she's spending Friday night at my house. I'm having a god damn slumber party, it's going to be awesome. (Actually, I'm just buying a case of beer to share between three people. That's even better.)

Just talked to Dad, he wants me to come in to the city for lunch with him. So, I'm going to sit here for a few minutes and bask in my absolute laziness. I'm equalling a huge amount of 'suck' right now because I am failing at finding a job. Actually, I'm just being greedy and picky, and I have to knock it off. I should just start my own business, damnit. I remember when the store was supposed to be handed down to me, but then I decided to move to Ontario. I have no idea what he's going to do with the store now. I hope he doesn't lose it, I really hope he doesn't sell it or anything like that. Wow, I feel like a huge asshole right now.

Later: And now I'm dressed, and I don't feel like straightening my hair so I just won't. I have no gas in the car, so I have to put the left over $7.00 that I have from a 10 Dad gave me last night in the car. That's alright, I just hope it's good for two trips.

Tomorrow I am also going into Calgary again for two things. 1. Heather Bedard is getting herself a new peircing (one I will eventually have done myself) and I refuse to allow a boy in the room with her for a hand to hold. Especially the one she was going to allow in. As much as I like the guy, I know what he's like and he's staying the fuck away from Ms. Heather during this time. So, I'm going. And I'm bringing Erin with me because... 2. I have to pick up Kyla and bring her back into town. I'm excited to have her out for a night. Spend more time with her.

Next Friday is already set up. Rob Emes is back in town, so I'm going to visit him on this day. I can't wait, I really can't wait. He's such an amazing person, and we used to be exactly the same. Now he's off living my dream and wandering and getting places. Now, that's cool. Anyway, I'm glad he's back in town, because this may just be the last time I see him. That's incredibly depressing. Maybe he'll fly through Ontario at some point and come visit me. Maybe, maybe.

I could spit on a stranger.
Oh, yeah.

It's grey outside. I heard an incredibly loud bang in my room last night as I was falling asleep. It was, apparently, my imagination because Dad (nor the dog who was on the bed with me) flinched. I shot straight up, looked around the room, and became incredibly scared and passed out within 2-3 minutes. Maybe I just stopped caring. Anyway, I wasn't sleeping in my bedroom - I was sleeping in the guestroom, when this happened. (What a fucking stupid set up for a sentence... oh well.) I have no idea what it was, all I know is that I heard it and it wasn't outside the door or outside the window - it was inside my room. It sounded, to be quite honest, like the television exploded. It was so weird.

And Holy Fuck, it's September 11th. Can't leave the house.

September 10, 2003
8:19 PM  ()
what are you doing out here?
8:30 p.m. - Must go to DT's Diner and visit Jenny B. Why? Because I'm a big asshole and keep ditching out because of my hatred for DT's Diner.

Tonight is definitely not fun. I am not having any fun. I want to kill a boy with my own hands, and also an overwhelming fear comes over me just thinking about him. I want to make a phone call and talk to a girl who means much to me, I will see her tomorrow. Dad's on the phone right now. I'm overly frustrated. I want to be somewhere else, as per fucking usual. It's cold outside, and it keeps getting colder. Autumn is here, Winter is on her way.

So, I guess I'll go up to DT's and write my until my hands feel like they're going to fall off. Jenn will be working, and then I shall have to wait until she is finished working (9:00-9:30) and then I will sit there for ... I'm.. oh god. I am hating so much right now.

6:09 PM  ()
i'm not very interesting anymore, am i?
Dad's making dinner, I should go up there and see if he needs any help. I really should. He bought me a pair of sunglasses today. I made a schedule for myself today. Yes, a big schedule. Two main times were these: 12:00 p.m. Lunch with Dad. And 6:00 p.m. Call Clifford because he doesn't think you call enough. AND WHO'S NOT HOME? Haha, no. I like it. I'm glad he's out. It's too bad I missed him, but I'm glad he's out doing his thing. Very glad. He needs to do that more often. And how I do wish I could be there to join him but - things are going down the shitter right now (some plans, not our relationship; relationship = good, very good). They'll be worked out, no doubt. But everything's just a little confusing right now. Ugh. I just wish I was there. I wish I could drive over to the warehouse where they rock the fuck out and just surprise them all. I HATE YOU, AIRDRIE. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. Oooh, the teenage angst.

12:01 AM  ()
give me what i want and i will fly away free.
Want to run, want to hide, want to grab on to everything. Want to take it all, take it with me. Want to cry, want to whine, want to smile and look into all of your eyes. Want to scream and shake the ones who deserve it, want to love and hold on to you, want to scream with joy and jump around with the few who make this world (my world) turn 'round.

Want to sleep, want to wake up on time. In your arms. Close enough to make a phone call to anyone I choose and be able to invite them over for coffee, or tea, or beer, or food. Whichever any prefer. Want to jump, want to jump off, want to jump in. Want, want. Want to paint, want to write, want to teach, want to hear and listen and say and ask. Questions. Want to pull it all apart, want to piece it together perfectly. Want to cut down, want to cut off, want to save. Money. Want to save. Life. Want to hear. Her. Want to see. Him. Want to cry on my Mother's shoulders and cuddle into her stomach as she strokes my hair, want her to yell at me. Want her to give me shit. Want her to tell me what to do. Want somebody to. Tell me what to do. Where to go. Give me a couple of answers that I already know I have to find myself. Give me a little insight. Must go now.

September 09, 2003
6:31 PM  ()
have you seen signs? mel gibson thinks we're funny.

1:16 AM  ()
11850
Things are getting a little confusing for me right now.

September 08, 2003
10:53 AM  ()
kyle moore tries to talk during sex.
MSN Messenger is the king of users making the use of the 'Away' status option. 12 out of 16 are using this status. 2 are blocked. That's' right, there's 2 people that are online right now and I'm highly doubting they're probability of actually being there. Big lame.

And I promised my Dad I would spend time with him last night, and I tried to start the movie at 7:30, so that when Clifford called the movie would be over. Dad spent time on the phone with two people before I could put the movie on. Clifford called in the middle of the movie. I had to let him go after 20 minutes and go back downstairs with my Dad, otherwise I would feel bad. I had already felt bad for leaving. It was Clifford's last night at his Mom's house, the last night where we could probably speak a little more freely (in length) for a week. And now he's at his Dad's house when he gets home from school. I can't imagine this being much fun for him at all. I still wish he was just able to live at his Mom's without any damn hassle.

Enter: Drama.
Moore's decided to publicize the fact that a friend of mine wanted him and wanted him bad. This is not true, she turned him down in such a way that would trigger his defenses. Kyle Moore is a big twat that doesn't know what the fuck he is talking about. Kyle Moore acts like he's 13 years old. Kyle Moore is a pigfucker. Kyle Moore isn't all that attractive at all. He doesn't handle being blown off very well. Not at all. Kyla Moore needs his teeth ripped out and his jaw sewn fucking shut. Along with his annoying younger brother.

I went to sleep early last night, and I woke up at a reasonable time. 10:30. This time better decrease as time moves on, because 10:30 isn't good enough for me. That's almost like sleeping in. Well, to me, it pretty much is sleeping in. I want 7:30-8:00 to be my destined time of awaking. Yes, yes. I want, I want.

I miss my boyfriend, god damnit. I might be moving a lot sooner, now. October or November. I don't fucking know. I want to. But I have to figure things out, first.

September 07, 2003
1:56 PM  ()
cchika-cchika.
So, I believe I have found a new addiction. It's called "Bejeweled". I did smoke my last pack of cigarettes yesterday (or, I at least hope I did). I'm not buying anymore. I need to buy lots of gum. That would be nice.

Last night was great. Robin & I had a blast checking out the upstairs level (our dirty pleasure of the night) and watching the goth kids dance like the world's gonna end. It was too hilarious. It really was. Robin was right, the mixing was absolutely terrible. Anyway, there was a boy who looked exactly like Jack White (but way younger) who was following me around all night. Didn't talk to me once, just was everywhere I was. It was slightly annoying. But extremely funny.

I spent a lot of the night sitting and thinking about Clifford, and about Dad. I was thinking about what Judy had said, and I was thinking about what Dad had said. I think I'm ready, but I'll have to ask Judy if it's alright.

The opening band (all girls except for the drummer, and really crappy but awesome) made me want to start up on the guitar again. There's me standing there, nodding my head and tapping my foot, thinking about how much better I can do than that. Oh, but they were hot girls. I don't think I could beat them in that category. They were damn hot. I liked the back-up singers voice, the lead singer needed to stop screaming her face off. Either way, they were fun.

Have I touched my guitar since I got home? No.

Will I touch my guitar soon? I don't know.
I do know that I want to skip the 'practice to get good' part, and just be good. But I'm not that musically inclined. I don't have that talent. I can write lyrics, but I can't play. And I've had the thing for 7 years, and played non-stop for 6 of them.

Friday night was wicked. Erin and I had a blast and it took us a million years to walk from the bar, across small field, down dark pathway by an elderly home, across the train tracks, down the street past the construction, turn right at the four way & Mac's, keep going, turn left and up the street to my house. Right around the street past the construction (they're restructering the crappy bridge), we were stopped by two boys from Crossfield. Seeing as Erin and I were drunk, we actually talked to people, and this would result in us actually stopping and talking to these strange boys calling out at us. "Should we go?" "Yeah. Sure. I don't know." "Let's go." "Okay." Just to make you all aware of how Erin and I are together, as soon as we got to the bar we noticed some people we knew come in (also people that we had to be with that night) and we turned, faced the wall, said "oh shit," and hid our faces. They were looking for us. This is something Erin and I have always done, we hate people in general - but together it's probably multiplied by one thousand. "Did they leave?" "No. They're over there." "Have they left, yet?" "I think so." In unison: "Awesome."

So, they wasted our time for about an hour. They started us walking back up the path up to the Fas Gas, which is on main street (where the bar is) and we got to the train tracks and I stopped it. I had had enough. I was not walking all the way back to my damn house. So, they told us they wanted to see us the next night, phone numbers were exchanged and Erin and I made fun of them the entire way to - Mac's. Where we were stopped by another two people. Now, one of the guys was carrying a guitar, and I couldn't fucking tune it. It was so bad, I wanted to throw it all over the place. And then he begged me to smash the guitar up. Of course, I am not strong enough. During this time, Erin and I are babbling to ourselves about the past and how glad we are to be around each other again (just as we did all night), the other guy kept stealing our Slushie's and tasting them and telling us how disgusting they were. I wanted to slap him. He looked like he was a four year old that was 6 feet tall. (Finishing the guitar story, after I had made a few dents and busting open the bottom on a cement pole, I guess the other two really destroyed the thing. Apparently it wasn't even his. When I was told this I started to feel bad. When I busted open the bottom, I started to believe that the guitar had a soul and I had just broken it. I was mortified. I kept hugging it. Anyway, Dad and I walked to Bogey's yesterday for a beer & some wings and this guitar is directly in our path in all sorts of pieces, and my Dad started ranting about destruction in big cities - "You didn't used to see this 'round here, now that it's becoming more populated, it's everywhere." Oh, Dad. I love you.)
Finally, I had had enough of that and dragged Erin back to my house. It was great. Haha. Heather Bedard's 18th Birthday was awesome.

I couldn't tell you how many whacko's I had to scream "AND MY BOYFRIEND..." at, though. Christ. Ick.

Yesterday was alright. Erin and I were hurtin'. We weren't hungover, but our eyes were ready to beat us to a pulp. And the heat. Oh god, the heat. And we had to drive, and my thighs hurt, and the shoe shopping. I had to meet my sister-in-law at Chinook Centre, where I saw her fucking ridiculous looking Mother and my two neices hanging off of her. Oh. My. Fucking. Lord. I hate that woman. And I was really angry with Jennifer (sister), I ended telling her to take the kids home because they were getting grouchy. This wasn't even 10 minutes into our arrival. I basically told them all to fuck-off. Erin and I couldn't figure out why we were still at this insanely busy mall, so we left and wandered down to 17th Avenue. This time I wanted to go, this time I was ready for it. I bought a pair of pants and a wicked pair of shoes. I spent $250. It was awesome. Drove home, Calgary smelled of a Dentist's office, dropped Erin off, wandered in to see Dad and hung out with him until I left for that show.

Today, I am being forced to stay home. I have to go to Costco, I have to make dinner, I have to do a lot of things today. I woke up at noon. Fuck, and I told Kyla I would come to visit her. What kind of friend am I? Shit, shit, shit. I just realized this. Okay, okay. She has school tomorrow, I have nothing planned for tomorrow - do I? I don't think so. No. I could... yeah. Ugh, I'm awful.

September 06, 2003
9:10 PM  ()
finally i do it freehand.
Well, he's off to a concert. So, I'll go to a local show. It's late, but it'll be fun. Red Hot Lovers, here I come. Oh, yeah. Kirby rocks. I'm going to pass out on the table or something. So tired.

September 04, 2003
8:38 AM  ()
17 pages.
It's early. I am tired. I was awake until 2:00 a.m. Bad idea, Heather. Bad idea. I told Dad to take the entire pack of cigarettes with him today, I don't want to see them. He's hell bent on coming to the doctors office with me, as well. It's fine, I'm not blabbering on about anything about myself that he doesn't already know. Sore throat, back ache. I'm going in for a particular shot today, and I do believe this shot goes in my stupid arm. Thankfully, though. Anywhere else and I'd scream and burst into nine million tears. Dad's apparently going to be there, and this is also fine. But one of these days I'm going to have to remind the poor man that I'm not four years old, and that I am quite capable of telling the doctor what boo-boo's I have this week.

9:30 a.m. - Must run over to Airdrie Youth Employment Centre, printing up resumes. Look on the job posting wall, see if there's anything interesting. Oh, yeah. And seeing as it's not Michael who's working today, tell this Andy fellow you couldn't find that copy of your resume you said you would bring him this morning when you saw him yesterday. You really couldn't find it. They have a copy of it on their system anyway. Geez, I really need to get my shit together and keep one of those or something.

After all of that is done, it shouldn't take long, I would love to come home and... go back to freakin' sleep. I finished my book last night (Don't Sleep With Your Drummer, by Jen Sincero) while I was waiting for Mr. Boyfriend to call me. I was so angry with myself. So very angry. I tried and tried to keep that one going. I kept it going for about a week and a half, though. So, I rock.

4:00 p.m. - Doctors appt.

I really have to change my shirt. I just had a shower and I'm not even going to bother straightening my hair today. And this shirt I'm wearing is not going to look good with a stupid black bandana.

Last night I was in such an immature mood, it was insane. Kyla can vouch for that. It was awesome.

September 03, 2003
8:25 AM  ()
your in my dreams, pushin' me around.
So, I've quit my job. I no longer work at the gas station. I went in there this morning and told Keith I needed to talk to him. I was hoping I'd be able to be out of there by the end of the week. I'm off today, because he loves me, and he's overstaffed anyway. "Don't you dare be a stranger, Heather. I should be seeing you twice from now until you move to Ontario, right?"
Me: "Well, Keith. As long as I'm still smoking, you'll see me more than that."
Keith: "Yes, well. Smoking's bad. Anyway, you have two weeks to bring that note in (note saying I quit for family reasons, again). And you need to come in before you move to Ontario because I'll give you a letter of reference."

Cool, I guess. But uh, haha. I don't know. I just thought that was funny. I'm going to have a letter of reference from my manager at a gas station. I find that really funny. But it's a letter of reference, I suppose. I've never had one of those before.

Now, the plan is to put the $7.00 of change I have into the car as gasoline. My Dad wants me to come in to visit him. So, I'm going to shower and make myself look decent (something I definitely don't do for work).

12:04 AM  ()
yes, yes.
Mmm. Clifford, I love you much.

September 02, 2003
12:15 PM  ()
eighteen, and fucking terrified of the dark? what is that?
Major breakdown, people. Major fucking breakdown. Must quit job. I'm fucking around too much. Couldn't sleep at all last night. Anxiety attack. Hyperventilating. I was too scared of the dark. I'm 18 years old and I was too scared of the dark. I was terrified. Called work at 3 in the morning, told Steve to tell them I couldn't make it in the morning. I have to quit before they let me go, I have to stop fucking them around. I feel so bad. I feel like a failure. I have to find another job. I can't work there. I think too much. I think of her. And too many people talk about it. I don't want to talk about it. I want to move on. I want to get on with my pathetic little life here in Airdrie, make enough money and get my ass away from here.

I ran up to my parents, er Dad's bedroom as my heart almost jumped out of my mouth and beat me in the fucking skull for the pure hell of it, I jumped onto what used to be my Mom's side of the bed and waited for Dad to hear me. I called for him a few times, and then finally I pretty much screamed at him. He woke up and I sat there in a huge fucking daze trying to figure out where all sorts of noises were coming from. I went fucking crazy last night. I went crazy. I feel like a huge idiot.

I need money. I have to find another way. I can't live in this house anymore.

September 01, 2003
5:28 PM  ()
"Jim Morrison?" *bad ding* "Incorrect, it was Leonard Cohen." *Heather kills herself*
You should hear this fucking teen-game show that somehow just is playing on the television right now. Dad & I were watching Star Trek, but then I left to have a shower and he went upstairs to cook dinner. The boys/major geeks in this show don't even let the game show host finish the damn question, and then of course they get it wrong. It's ridiculous. I want to shoot myself. They make me want to throw myself into the wall four times and maybe six more.

7:30 AM  ()
i'm moving to los angeles.
Last night was, now that I think about it, a pretty long night. I went to bed at 10:00, I fell asleep listening to the radio around 10:30 after setting up my alarm clock. I woke up at 12:09, two hours later, because my stereo was too loud and keeping me from falling asleep completely. I shut off the stereo and slept with all lights out for the first time alone. I'm proud of myself. I haven't been able to bring myself to turn off that stupid night light.

Dad woke me up at 7:01, my alarm was supposed to go off at 7:02 (for no particular reason at all, I was just to lazy to correct it all). I need to start learning how to wake up to the stupid thing, because I keep sleeping through my alarm - and it's not good. It gets me in trouble. I'm going to be completely disgusting today (actually, I'm quite clean), but I'm not showering this morning. I'll shower when I get home. My hair's curly and long enough, now, to look good in a 'pony-tail'. My work clothes are in the dryer, becoming 'de-wrinkled', baby! It better not be a warm day, I don't think I could handle the blank pants we have to wear and the thick forest green & black work shirts. I'll go insane, and I know all I'll want to do when I get home is rip off my clothing and lay in the bottom of the tub as the shower head spits up cold water all over me. Oh, that would be nice, but the problem is getting to that point - I don't want to do that.

I need to make something to eat, I need to do a lot of things. I'm getting a headache. I am not ready to go back to work just yet, but it's something I have to do. I'm also going to have to give my manager a talkin' to (if he's in, it's a fucking holiday so I won't be surprised if he's not). I need to work, strictly, the 8-4 shift 5 days a week, weekends off. And if he can't provide me with that, I'll have to look elsewhere for employment. I'm just not working weekends anymore, and there's no way I'm working evening shifts when my Dad works morning shifts. We'd never fucking see one another, and I'm not doing that. There's no way I'm doing that. Absolutely no way. There'd be a simple "hey, hi" "see ya, bye" type thing going on every time we bumped into each other in the kitchen or on the stairs or something. Ugh, not doing that. Nope, nope.

He offered me a couple of cigarettes to take to work with me. I declined. How good is that? Anyway, if I start going insane I can just tell Melissa I'm pretty and that she should feed me nicotine. She will. That is if I'm working with her. Anyway, my wanting to work only 5 shifts a week and having them all strictly as 8-4 shifts will work out perfectly. Why? There's 4 kids that are going back to school real quick like (tomorrow) that work for us. That way there's more 4-9 and weekend shifts. Right? I flippin' hope so.

Anyway, my clothes are ready.