At an time alarmingly close to my wake-up-and-go-to-church hour this morning, I awoke to a wood tick crawling on my lip, headed straight for the tropical regions of my mouth. I faintly heard it whispering, "Wake up, you heathen bitch. Go to church!" Naturally, I ignored it and flicked it across the room because I was too lazy to get up and flush it down the toilet or fry the little sucker.

Okay okay, so the tick didn't talk (get it? tick, no talk!), but I felt like it should have, waking me up and trying to get me out of bed when it did.

A week ago right now I was drunk and giddy (see blog title), and sadly enough, my mother was right there, drunk with me. And my friends. My parents and my college friends getting drunk together at Camp Shack. I'm pretty sure this isn't how it's supposed to go.

Although bits and pieces of last Saturday evening keep floating back to me, I fear I lost quite a bit of the evening's happenings to sheer inebriation. I do know, however, that I had a blast. I can't even express how wonderful it was to see Chelsea and Kelly again - I've missed those girls so much - and to be able to laugh with just about all my favorite people at the same time. Thanks again, everyone, if you read this, for coming. Thanks also for the too-cool cards and gifts that were all aimed so perfectly at me it was actually frightening. A book about the game of LIFE!? A puppy poster? Bubbles? Relaxation promoting sweet-smelling spa goodies? You guys are freaking awesome!

After all was said and done, my dad told me, "You must have pretty good friends if so many will show up on only a week's notice." Right you are, old man. Only the best.

George W. Bush sucks. And do you know why he sucks? He sucks because he's in Duluth right now, monopolizing all the local television stations, including NBC, which means...I don't get to watch Ken on Jeopardy tonight! And that lousy son of a bitch expects to get my vote? (Dubya, not Ken. I would definitely vote for Ken.) Dream on, Georgie. Ken's going to get up to a million tonight, which is far more historical than the good-for-nothing President being in the area.

I'm trembling with anticipation (not really, that'd seem kind of dirty, even almost sexual) about this coming weekend. On Thursday night my favorite city boy (okay okay, my favorite boy, period) is coming up, and so is my sister. On Friday I'm going shopping and to see a movie with my favorite boy. On Saturday the Goldfine crew (except Cassi - damn that Cassi!) is making its way up to Tower, where the beer will flow like blood from a recently slaughtered heifer. I haven't seen Chelsea and Kelly for months and months and I can't wait to hang out with them again. They damn well better being pictures from their time spent abroad.

Thinking about this weekend is the only thing that will get me through these coming days in Embarrass, I reckon. Woe is me.

It's been over a week since the sun transformed my skin into an oozing mass of yuckiness. Right now my neck feels like a 65-year-old's overtanned face. Kind of like leather. But red leather. That's gotta be worth more, right?

I'm in the middle of a 12-day stint of work. I've got two more at my lovely little store and then I'm back to Embarrass for three. And THEN the weekend, and what a glorious weekend it will be!

At work yesterday I busted a 14-year-old girl trying to steal cigarettes, which made me think of all the children between 13 and 16 that I can't tolerate. I'm pretty sure that must be the worst stage of one's life and even the biggest assholes, once they reach 18 or so, realize it isn't cool to be an asshole and it won't get a person anywhere. There are a lot of 18-year-olds whom I adore that were once 15-year-olds I detested. Included: a young man that two of my high school teachers tried to get me to tutor, who rudely refused my help and then tried to blow up the school. I'm pretty sure the drugs are what's making him so kind these days, but hell, whatever works.

I went fishing the other night with the new rod my daddy bought me for my birthday. I caught two fish. Two lousy fish in two hours. I guess it could get worse though - the old man never had a bite.

I feel like I've been gypped on sleep this weekend. We're caring for Lillie the wonder dog, who busts in my room, jumps on my bed, licks my face, chews on my bed, jumps off, sits on the floor, stares at me and whines until I get up. I wouldn't mind this at 10 or 11. It might even be kind of cute. But at 7 o'clock in the morning, she can go to hell.

Tomorrow I might go meet Audrey, the newest addition to my adopted family. That is, of course, if Brody the attention whore hasn't suffocated her yet.

The end.

Look at this...I've fixed my computer and it only took me a month! Something tells me I'm going into the wrong field.

Nothing all that thrilling has been going on in Tower, if you can believe it. Darren was up last week for my birthday and the Fourth and I did not, I repeat, I DID NOT, get sloppy drunk on my twenty-first birthday. I was pleasantly buzzed and thankfully there was no one around to elevate that to full-fledged shitfacedness. That and I went out with my dad. What a lame ass, eh? I did have a wonderful birthday and Darren spoiled the crap out of me, as he does, and I wasn't even carded when I bought alcohol just because I could.

I must say, though, that being able to drink a beer on Main Street in plain daylight with cops walking by was a wonderful feeling. We celebrated the Fourth on the third up north this year, since alcohol is a no-no on Sundays, and Saturday was borderline sweltering here. Darren and I sustained quite the severe sunburns (pity the pale people), and as I type this, four days later, the blisters on my neck are still popping, oozing pus down my neck and crustifying my shirt collars. Mmm.

So there it is, the past four weeks of my life. I'm sure I missed some stuff, but that means it must not be too important.

Oh shit! Speaking of important! Beeb got a baby sister today. Isn't that precious? A sister though...honestly, what's with that?

As I compose this the smoke alarm is going off upstairs. The steam from the shower sets that bitch off and I am way too lazy to go up there and turn it off. Instead I'll sacrifice my dog's hearing.

Enough with the randomness. I need to peel hardened pus off my neck now.