fredericks

There is a guy who skateboards his way down the street that bisects my own every night, usually between the hours of 11 PM and 1 AM. I find myself intrigued by this anomaly, a black guy in my neighborhood who is not afraid to make his way back to wherever from wherever while riding a skateboard (a skateboard!) in my 'hood. I've always assumed he's making his way from work back to his house, hence the regularity of the passing, making the phenomenon all the more endearing. My late nights aren't complete unless I hear the squeaking of his wheels as he goes by.

AND I wish to have John Corbett's (circa SatC S3-S4) baby. No, I lie. I wish I tell him I want to have his baby and then pop in a diaphragm and have at it for a couple of months, 'til he figures it out. Or not.

I can directly trace the main source of stomach pains to my interactions with Pace. They played cocktease with me on a portion of my financial aid, a realization I didn't come upon until on the subway halfway home. That increased the pain I'd been feeling after finding out that the scholarship money I'm supposedly getting from them has yet to show up on their computers, making me wonder if I hallucinated both the phone call the woman made to me and my return confirmation phone call to her. I'm getting $1,450 less (grant) aid and may not be getting that scholarship money (or paying off my bills or getting that new computer or taking my dog to the vet; that crap about not counting your chicks makes damned sense). And, before getting punched in the gut by Fin Aid, I spent the morning getting stabbed by needles over and over again as the NP attempted to draw blood from my elusive veins for titers - oh, and my last tetanus shot was undocumented (given while I was in an ER) so I had to get stabbed for that as well. I was so frustrated when I came home and called up the Fin Aid office that I nearly shouted at the receptionist. Pace is like the abusive sadist S.O. I never ever wanted.