Ryan's Personal Blog

Effin’ win. Red Lion, PA, got points with me for this.

She liiives! At mum’s house, organized my stuff, gave lots of things to good will. Next I’m either going to visit some friends or head back to my apartment and organize the crap there, and then move it north. Airline says I can take the cat but not the bearded dragon, so gotta figure out how to get him there. May hafta ship him by mail… Yarr, you can do that with reptiles, I’m just not fond of the idea at ALL.

I wouldn’t trust anyone to take him, I’d never see poor little Isaac again.

Got to see my nephew and niece on Skype! Although now the one nephew keeps calling back just to see Spiderman. Don’t ask! Let’s just say he is keeping me company ’til I get back to New York.

It’s started out as a normal day. Wake up, get ready.

What happened? I’m sitting here on the very back seat of a plane, nauseous as hell.

I’m having to type without looking at the screen because there’s so little leg room, my computer screen is tipped forward, the the laptop seated on my lap.

Where to start. I thought I broke the cab driver’s door, because when the door slid back, the handle somehow got caught, and in the driver trying to close it, it broke the handle, I think. For the whole ride the door seemed a bit off, and I worried during some turns that the whole thing was going to fall off.

When we got to the airport, my credit card was declined. I had him watch my stuff while I ran into the airport to find an ATM, but heard it was on the next floor up in the corner, so ran back out and had him try a different card. I was worried I’d miss my flight. Tried the other car, it worked, forgot to TIP him, felt awful. Apologized a lot.

There was a moment of horror inside the airport when I thought maybe I had booked my flight with another airline, before discovering I was using another airline’s reservation machine. So got my ticket, went the wrong way for a while, couldn’t find my flight on the tv screen, went back, headed up the escalator, saw the ATM machine, put my card in a few times, nothing happened. There was a Windows screen up with a drop down menu–the bloody thing was out of order. So decided to just ask the guy at the checkpoint where another ATM was. I asked if I had time to get to it, and he said sure, my flight didn’t leave ’til 5 pm, which I knew was immediately wrong. He realized it he was looking at the ticket for my connecting flight, and with horror (again) I realized I didn’t have the other ticket. So I went back down, no escalator (bastards), just stairs, and found the airline guy behind the desk waving my ticket.

Retrieved ticket, took escalator back up, and suddenly there was a line when there wasn’t one before. Yay. Got through the checkpoint fine, hurried to my gate, and was relieved to find they weren’t boarding yet. Called the cab service, and tipped the driver. Then went down to a little eatery place, ordered a little food and a bottled water–everyone kept walking up to the counter and getting served before me, despite that I was under the “Order Here” sign. So moved over, ordered, and then–my credit card was declined. Nearly burst into tears. The woman offered me the food anyway but I was too embarrassed, and left.

Got on the flight. Go figure, my seat is in the very back, and now here I am, trying my best not to puke.

I puked.

Needed something to eat but had no money, wasn’t going to ask or beg. Went to a food/drink booth and stole a pre-made wrap. Tasted awful. Ate half of it anyway. Used a water fountain for drinking.

Now sitting at the airport, waiting two more hours for my next flight. Bad taste of peppers in my mouth; better than stomach bile.

I’m on the next plane. The people here have more character than I’ve seen on planes. It feels a bit unreal. I can’t help but feel like this is going to be the next Lost, and the guy who made a big deal about spilling some coffee looks like Locke, and the guy trying to talk to him, who has booked an extra seat for his guitar case, slightly resembles a young Sayid, but character-wise will be Charlie. Me, I’ll be one of the few that go flying out with their seat during the crash.

I just want to get home and pack my stuff, and see my mom, friends, and pets again. I hope this flight goes better than the last.

About 20 minutes later and we’re still sitting here on the runway. There’s apparently about 30 planes ahead of us, so it’s going to be a while.

Flight wasn’t as bad as the one before. Finally made it, went back to mum’s house, made some mac n’ cheese, and then went to bed.

Now late for an appointment because the bus driver chose to ignore us at the stop (and yes, it was his stop) in favor of the green light. Chose to take another bus and get a transfer rather than wait an hour and a half. Le sigh.

And look who’s updating her status with her phone, go me! I oughta be ashamed; Dad figured out how to do this before I did. Go go internet degree.

I hate when I have debates with imaginary people in my head. I always lose.

I need a hug and a s’more. And maybe a coloring book.

Update: By the way, I got a hug, s’more, and a coloring book, WITH crayons, so I’m happy. :D

Medium-sized and small dogs still manage to take up the same amount of space on a bed as the big ones. They just position themselves where it’s the most inconvenient for you, like the flippin’ middle of the bed.

Dante feels as heavy as a big dog! I put the blanket and my legs completely over him and he still wouldn’t move. So finally after a while I whispered “Daaante…” and he wriggled out under. And then he became mah snuggle bunny.

I’ll wake up and find myself nearly against the wall, with him cuddled up against my legs, and the entire other side of the bed unused. I wonder how long it takes him while I’m sleeping to do that.

Bones says, “Probably not long, you probably get hot, move away, he moves close again, rinse and repeat. Over and over again.”

Until I wake up crammed against the wall and a dog.

I keep hoping I’ll turn out to be lesbian.

Patrick: Funny, some people keep hoping *I’ll* turn out to be a lesbian.
Bones: I keep hoping I’ll turn out to be a god.
Dani: I just keep hoping.

Can’t believe women are still objectified. Did we stop moving forward and just figure, ‘Hell with equal rights, this is good enough’?

Dani: No, we just got lazy.
Ryan: Same thing!
Dani: Actually, I think women want to be objectified.
Ryan: I don’t think that’s true. I think maybe some do, like it’s their personal fetish, but I have a hard time believing all women want to be seen as kitchen accessories or sex toys. We bleed, we have brains, we feel pain, like everyone else. And so in short, no, I will not be making anyone a sammich.

–In unrelated news:

Ah, I love Dani. Patrick, yer missing out!

Dani: so when I come down we have a day of pizza and coloring…
Ryan: cooollorrrrs
Dani: OMFG THEY HAVE CRAYONS FOR THE WINDOWS
Ryan: …WUT
Dani: page 4
Ryan: HOLY