(no subject)

The other day my mother caused me a rather uncomfotable moment when she asked me if I'd ever been drunk. "No," I said, thinking of Kristen's birthday party in Germany. (Which reminds me, it was her birthday a few days ago, if I'm remembering correctly. Happy Birthday Kristen!) There's also my entire second semester of freshman year, Renn Fayre, Oktoberfest, Canada, the three times I've drunk myself sick... Anyway, my mom then went on to say that being drunk is no fun, because you loose control and don't know what you might do.

I can see that this would happen if you don't know your limits. I can see that this would happen if you drink irresponsibly and to excess. That is not how I drink, and that is not how I get drunk. I have never been so intoxicated so as to not know what I'm doing. I have, in fact, had fun while drunk. I find it a little bothersome that my mom seems to consider all drunken experiences to be the same. But hey, she also seems to think that anyone who smokes is automatically someone who smokes a pack or more a day. Though not a smoker myself, I know people who smoke considerably less than that. But all of that belongs in a conversation that I can't have with my mom just yet, as I am still underage. Perhaps next time I come home.

(no subject)

I just came about this close to my dad finding out about my LJ. I was reading the friends page on the ReedLJ when he came in wondering what gender Leslie Limper is, as if it mattered that much. I pulled out the directory, thinking there might be a picture, but there wasn't, so he sits on the corner of my bed, right behind me (which drives me nuts) and stared at the page and flipped through the directory as if that would make Leslie appear. And at that moment I realize that some of my vitriol is showing on the screen. So I scroll down quickly. He suggests maybe the answer to his question is on the Reed webpage, and then asks what I'm doing. Er, um, reading. Stuff. Online. Yeah. To say "LiveJournal," even referring to one that isn't mine, will lead to more questions in territory I don't want to cover.

But anyway, to get to my real point. Enough bitching.

So a week after Winter's Tale rehearsals start, I get a call from the director. I'm going to be doing tech for the show. I'll be running sound, which I've never done before. I guess my parents hadn't been home when he called earlier, so there was a message, which my parents heard before I did. My dad later tells me about it, and that it's not in the new messages anymore, and did I get the number yet? Well, first off, of course I hadn't figured that it wouldn't be a new message anymore; I thought they were just psychic and just knew about it. (I knew they hadn't been there when the message was left, because the display wasn't blinking, indicating that the messages had been reviewed.) By the same token, I psychically listened to the message and got the number. He was downstairs the whole time I was, and I should think you would notice a thing like someone playing answering machine messages when you're five feet away.

Well, so much for no more bitching. At least I'm done with wanting to scream out the lyrics to "Blood On the Ground." Though I am still thinking of burning a CD of topically relevant songs and blasting it. I probably won't, though, because that would require going to buy CD-Rs and sitting down and drawing up the playlist, and I don't really want to dwell on things that much.