Sunday, January 23rd, 2011

radiumgirl: (Han/Leia Bespin)
 My application for the income-based student loan repayment plan was denied because I forgot to sign the damn form before I mailed it. I'm a moron sometimes. So, I have to mail it again and bite my nails for another month because on the standard plan, my payments are just under $600/month and, well, that's not okay. It's also not feasible. So, if I get denied again, for something that has nothing to do with my (in)ability to sign on the dotted line, I'm going to pick up the phone and try to cut a deal:

"Hi, there. So, you should totally just take the $150-200/ month that I'm offering you because that $600? Well, it simply isn't going to happen. And go ahead, destroy my credit. Sure, it'll make my life suck, but you still won't be getting $600 off of me every month."

Except, you know, politer. 

In other news, Owen proposed to me with a McDonald's happy meal toy. 

No, no, not marriage. Just shacking up. He applied for a job with a school in Kalamazoo, Michigan.  He takes on his third round of interviews on February 6th and it's looking pretty good, so we thought it was prudent to figure out what his potential relocation meant for us. I met him for lunch in E-burg and got a cheeseburger happy meal because I was feeling like a five-year-old (and we're both hella-poor, as usual) and we meandered over to a table by the window. He unwrapped his double cheeseburger and went to hand me my happy meal, then pulled it back and popped the lid open, digging around it's innards until he found the little pink My Little Pony doll that came with it. 

"Gimme my fucking food, bitch."

He grinned and held the My Little Pony out like, well, like a ring and said, "So, you know how I'm maybe moving to Michigan?"

"Nope. I had no idea. Michigan? Really?"

"Shut up, I'm trying to be an adult."

"You're holding a happy meal toy."

"Who ordered the fucking happy meal, huh?"

"Whatever. Keep talking."

"Mary Ann Nichole ______, in the event that I am offered this job and accept this job and end up relocating to a city that is closer to Canada than the neighboring state, is perilously close to being considered mid-west, a part of the country that I know both intrigues and terrifies you, and, probably most importantly, is far, far away from our family, friends, and Sheetz 99 cent hot dogs...would you come live in sin with me?" 

I imagine that my face looked something like this: ^_________^

And then we stuffed our faces and went back to his place to "take a nap" since his room mate went home for the weekend. 

Then we really did take a nap, during which, Owen fell over the side because I am an octopus. I scooted over to make more room while he grumbled, "This is why I like to take the inside." I offered him the blanket and threw an arm around his shoulders. 

"Owen?"

"What."

"If we move to Michigan, can we get a bigger bed?"

"Fucking. Yes."

 

radiumgirl: (bathtub reading)
 This short story was originally published in Volume 84 of the Sigma Tau Delta Journal of Creative Writing (2009). 



Dave Hugya accidentally sold his grandfather’s ashes in the annual Braddock Avenue block sale )

June 2011

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