Breathing life into this thing. ;D

Life! Life I say! I breathe life back into thee!


So, let's see.
No phone call back from the inn.
So, I guess that means poor me is still unemployed. Bugger.

My mother, when down visiting my grandmother, expressed her concern vis-a-vis my bust size. She claims the weight is giving me headaches and a hunch-back. Hurrah. She claimed that "we really gotta fix those...We really gotta reduce those boobs of yours.” Har har! Not in a million years. Really, I find it somewhat…disheartening that my mother is now suddenly so adamant about my getting breast reduction surgery. Not gonna happen, let me tell you. If I was gonna get anything reduce first, it would be my girth/weight. Then if, and only if my chest seems to be a problem, would I even slightly consider it. Sorry, but like I’ve said before, I really appreciate and love my chest, as silly as that may sound.


My little sister started her first day of work today. Noooo pressure.

Last note: I've got this sore throat thing going on.
It started last...erm...Sunday (the 17th), on the way home from London and escalated into the "hard to swallow, hard to yawn, hard to talk" phase on Tuesday, and then the "stuffed nose" phase Thursday. So I took some cold medication that night, so I can breathe, you know. Problem is (and this I had only become aware of, like, two hours after taking the medication) that my throat has now crossed into the "near impossible to swallow, yawn, talk, move jaw" phase, and (when looked at in the mirror with a flashlight) is such a vivid shade of red that I think it could taunt a bull in a bull ring. And so, because of the cold medication, I couldn't take cough medicine.
Oh, and hilarious development: my intense and constant coughing is making one of my eyes slowly turn bloodshot.
And our doctor is away on maternity leave. Freakin' brilliant. And Emergency Room wait time at the closest hospital (like, 5 minutes away) was about 5 or 6 hours last time dad was there. And that was before the yearly onslught of tourists/cabin-ers. HURRAH!



So it's slooooowly starting to go away now, but GAH! So frustrating!
And it seems that my throat is all "let's not cough until she's aaaaalmost asleep, then we won't let up for, like, 4 hours," 'cause that's what's been happening.
Yaaaay!

Kay then, end of me breathing life back into this thing. ;D

Your thumb gracing my lips,
chin quivers.
Sure, the muscles are sore,
but that’s not why I feel so weak.
Fingers slip into mouth.
I can feel your index on my tongue and it’s heaven.
Saliva, slick, coats your glove-coated digit
and if I wasn’t being peered at by her
I’d blush so many shades of red,
I’d look the physical manifestation of embarrassed lust.

If only you knew,
if you could hear my ramblings
my incoherent murmurs
that dance in my mind like contemporary lovers
always twirling,
always listing,
always dreaming.

If you could hear,
I’d die of shame and I know why.
My ramblings and murmurs can only be blamed
on silly virginal dreams.
See,
you’re the only man who has ever,
ever,
touched my face,
my mouth,
my skin.
me.

The palm of your hand rests on the crest of my cheek,
now red with frustration,
and she asks me if I’m alright.
Silent nods,
it’s all I can muster.
Sure, there are metal clamps and picks in my mouth,
but I could conceivably speak
I just don’t trust my voice.

He’s British and scrumptious.
He’s my mother’s age.
Married.
Has a son my sister’s age.

It’s just silly virginal musings.
Just silly wonderlust and heated cheeks.
His hand on my face,
on my mouth,
in my mouth,
oh how I wish I could turn my mind off.
Just so I could stop thinking like that,
thinking of what I would do
if he ripped his gloves off,
pushed the hygienist out of the room,
knocked down the photos of his family and just…

I can’t.
It’s not right.

Is this what it’s come down to?
Lusting after my dentist?
Frustrated.
Pathetic.

I’ll never forget his gloves.

Evrett

I think it's over.
That thing with my sister.
Mostly because I said I'm just too tired of it all.
And she claims that she gets pissed off at me "because I care." *snort*

So done and done.

Also, today I went and gave my resume/cover letter to a local inn for a housekeeping position.
It looks promising. As in, the owner said that his wife does all the hiring (and she's in Europe 'till Thursday, go figure) but that he'd be very interested in hiring me. :)
And, even though I hate the thought of working (yes, I know, I'm a spoiled little brat) and I hate people with a flaming passion, I'm sort of pleased with myself.

And, finally, just about 10 minutes ago I was downstairs watching tv and I heard these weird noises coming for the roof/outside. So I went to investigate (via peering out the window) and saw a raccoon in our beauty bush. I knocked on the back door and he just sort of froze in a banch and stared at me. My dad came upstairs from the computer room/basement and was all "WTF are you doing?" and I was all "Raccoon in beauty bush!!" and he was all "Beauty bush? The hell is that?!" 'cause he may own the house, but he has no idea what the plants/trees etc. in the yard are called. Sheesh!
So I had to point and be all "No, not there, THERE. The big tree-like thing!"

Soooo the raccoon scurried away a short time later and we saw that (s)he had left a puddle near our little pond. 'Cause racoon's have to get their food wet before they eat it, right?
Coolio!
I love wildlife! :3

Anyway, I've named him Evrett. 'Cause it's male. 'Cause I decree it as such. Hey, it's my blog, I can assign genders to whomever I want, right? Right.
And now I need to go to bed.
Dentist tomorrow, cavity (or two) that need to be drilled and filled.
Oh fun!

Toodles. <3

An extension of me.

This is but an extension of myself.
As in, my annoying familial unit is going all medieval on my old blogger accounts (and my DA pages) ass so I've decided to relocate.
My username is not my real name.
Other than my first name, I shall not be mentioning many family names since my family (immediate and extended) google search my two sisters and I to extinction and then report to each other on the amount of times we say "fuck" on the internet.


My real name is Kristen.
My username on here for quite a time was Sunako-chan. She is not me. I sort of really wish she was me. She's my favorite character from my favorite graphic novel; The Wallflower. She is definitely a person I would try to befriend if she were real, hence my ad0pting her name.
I am a 20 year old bitch with green eyes who hates people and the world in general. I go to university in London, Ontario and am double majoring in History and Sociology. I've been living with my crazed German grandmother while at school.

I like to think that I’m socially active. I’m not, though. I’m more socially aware. As in, I know issues and might spout fire and brimstone about them, but I’m too lazy to get off my ass and do shit. Unless someone brings me to a rally. I reeeealy want to get my ass to a rally someday.

I am pro-choice, not anti-life. I am anti-Harper and anti-Bush (like many Canadians, it seems). I am an omnivore who would convert to vegetarianism if it weren’t impossible to explain the concept and positive effects of it to my indistinguishable meat loving German grandmother. I am a cross-stitcher and a cross-bitcher. I am the daughter of a teacher (mother) and librarian (father) and even though my dad’s becoming the most unbearable thing on two legs, I’m striving to be a librarian myself. If only because I could never live up to my older sister vis-à-vis grades and ambition or my younger sister vis-à-vis talent and all-around-round-ness. I am a middle child. And, yes, there is unfairness in this rung of the ladder.
I’m a recovering poet. As in, I had lost all poetic imagination last April and am only just now recovering it. I went from stupid, grade 10 emo-shit to the stuff I write now which is…odd, to say the least. Think short stories about a beaten wife murdering her husband and sons, sparing her daughter, all the while egged on by her sister, (http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/56906711/) a piece I am actually quite proud of, which is quite a shock since I am definitely my worst critic.

I am unemployed. I know. Cue the annoying parents, with whom I am living for the summer. I’ve been trying to get a job, but my dislike of people and shit-low self-esteem are difficult barriers to overcome when one lives in a tourist town.

I take shitty pictures of my face, because I am fat and hate my body. I’m not looking for sympathy in that respect. I know I’m fat, I hate it, it’s my fault, but oh well. I tend to like my face (sometimes) though.

I’ve been dabbling in Photoshop, so I’ll probably try to do something with this blank slate of a blog.

This is quite refreshing, actually. This…renewal.

If anyone stumbles upon this blog and wants to attempt as wooing friendship from me, just ask and I’ll send you links and the like (like MSN etc).

Well then, I think it’s time to call up Photoshop and doodle-dabble.

Taa taa! ;)