Archive for October, 2002


My current answering machine message:

“How are you gentlemen – All your message are belong to us. This an answering machine, not answering service. If you are calling for anyone other than Amanda, Ashley, or Maria, please hang up now. If you are a telemarketter, fundraiser, or anyone else wanting to collect money, we are all poor college students, so please hang up. If you genuinely need to contact any of the current residents of 802, please leave a message after the tone.”

If you couldn’t tell by the opening greeting, this is all in the voice of CATS.


The message clearly states that you should leave messages for Amanda, Ashley, or Maria.

“Jessica, this is your mother, that’s such a cute message! Tom’ll be calling right back to hear it! Happy Halloween!”
“Heh heh heh, so cute, Jessica. Happy Halloween.”



“You’re my witness,” she says to me, and grabs my forearm.

I yank it back and say, “No.” She looks at me, confused. “I didn’t see anything. I wasn’t there for any of it. I’m not part of this, do not bring me into it.”

She was shocked that I wouldn’t agree with her.

Ashley vs. Maria 2

More on the roommate situation:

I was wrong about Maria trying to fight with Ashely. What had happened was Anna, a friend of Ashley’s, came over and tried to fight with Maria.

I could hear most of the conversation, and, basically, Anna was trying to fight for Ashley’s “rights” that Maria had supposedly violated. (things mentioned: Moving into the room, taking potato chips). When confronted with this, Ashley stated that she had no problem with Maria being in the room since, technically, her own room deal didn’t start until November.

Maria claims to not have taken the chips. I do not know either way, I have no knowledge of her actions regarding potato chips, other than that she doesn’t clean up after herself (or her friends)

Maria overheard Anna and Ashley speaking across the hall. (NOTE: The following information is based entirely on Maria’s side of the story.) Ashley had been exaggerating Maria’s “crimes” and whining that “I[Ashley] ask her[Maria] about the chips, and they suddenly returned to their place in the cupboard.” She also told Anna that after their “fight,” Maria was crying and saying how much she wanted to kick Anna’s ass. (I saw Maria directly after the fight and was there for the discussion she had with Ashley – Maria wanted nothing more than to get Anna out of the apartment, and to keep her from returning with that attitude. Maria was most definitely not crying.)

Yes, Ashley is apparently two-faced.
But, Maria is a liar. She one more than one occasion has lied about something to avoid responsibility. Cleaning up beer bottles, for one. She also claimed no dishes, even though she’s the only one that uses glasses. Ashley and I use water bottles or pop cans. Who’s not to say that Maria is lying about the chips?

When speaking to either one, I get the impression that they are trying to get me to turn against the other. Maria is more blatant about it than Ashley. Ashley will exaggerate to get a rise out of others, while Maria will say it almost directly that you should do something. Neither one can get me to do anything except bitch on Livejournal.

Kinda makes me wish that, after a few years of distance from these two, they come across my journal and see what they presented themselves as.

Ashley vs. Maria

Alright, here’s the deal.

Ashley is paying twice as much to get one room of the apartment all to herself.
Maria’s trying to start a fight with her over the manner in which she announced it.
Lametria’s still a fucktard, and thankfully, doesn’t live here.

Ashley had planned to have a room to herself before Maria moved in. Maria should have been with me in the first place, but she was a fucking retard and moved into Ashley’s room.

Twice, in one conversation, I told Maria to be quiet, I get it, she doesn’t need to repeat everything.

Now she’s fighting with Ashley.

Fucking drama queen.

I used to wonder why I stayed hidden behind the monitor, why my life was lived in text rather than the spoken word.

I find it much saner here.

In high school, that was the focus of my life. Get up, go to school, get online. I had a form of social contact (school) but I spent most of my time to myself. Moving out here, I’ve been forced into social contact.

I wish everything could be so simple again. Go to school, get online, go to work, and, most importantly, not be bothered. But now, it seems every person who moves in wants me to be their friend, their sister, their mother. Everyone wants me to not only listen to their problems, but smile and agree with them, and tell them it’ll be alright, here’s a dollar, go spend it on something you don’t need.

They seem to forget one important point when taking actions: I have known them for a month or less. Just because we live together does not mean that we will get along no matter what. It does not mean what’s mine is yours, what’s yours is mine. I do not want to share anything with people I’ve only known a few days or weeks, nor do I want to hear about them, their problems, or their loveable dog they left behind.

And I don’t give a fuck who they fuck, and I’d appreciate it if they returned the sentiment.

Of the 8 roommates I’ve had in the past 7 months, only two of them I actually got along with. Everyone else has been in and out in three months or less. It’s not worth the time to get to know them anymore.

And everyone’s got a quirk. I’m sure I’ve got one that gets on people’s nerves. It might be that my workspace is cluttered with papers. It might be that I spend a lot of time on the internet. It might be the video games.

But I get stuck with thieves who justify their actions by saying that what they stole didn’t affect the person at all, and that she’d only steal from people who weren’t in need; and then she stole from me on several occasions. I get stuck with a delusional suburb-raised girl who thinks everyone’s had the same opportunities as her. I get stuck with a racist who doesn’t realize her comments are bad. I get stuck with a weak-willed girl who breaks up with her boyfriend of two years after one week here, and after she’d already fucked someone else. I get stuck with a ghetto-raised girl who thinks she’s a queen. I get stuck with an alcoholic rich-bitch whose parents bought her everything she ever wanted. I get stuck with a … and I hate using this term, but it’s what she is … hick slut who thinks she’s so bad-ass because she drives a truck and uses a man’s razor. I get stuck with another delusional suburb girl who must be close to deaf because she’s never speaking below a shout. She’s never lived outside the suburbs until now, she’s 24, and she thinks she’s already seen the world through and through.

And, of course, if A has a problem with B; C, D, E, and the rest of the alphabet hear about it before B. And then everyone bitches about how they hate how no one ever says anything to their faces.

Sure, it’d be nice if everyone did that … but it’d only work if no one took offense, which they are guaranteed to do. People keep from saying things as to not cause bad blood – but that doesn’t explain why they’d bitch to EVERYONE ELSE first. I say nothing to anyone until they ask. I repeat nothing. Gossip is evil. I never gossip until I’m sure that neither I, nor the person I’m talking to, will come in contact with the person it’s about.

I hate people.
Always have, always will.

Now, to post, and to sit and listen to Maria bitch. I don’t mind listening to people bitch sometimes. People need to vent. I don’t mind that. Unless it’s stupid and repatative. Which this probably be.

Hatt 8

#8 Rantt Ô_õ 10/30

I forgot my pens at home today.
As well as my unlined paper.

But the good news is that I have hair gel. HOORAY FOR ANIME HAIR!


I’m a kitty!

Maria’s Guest

Maria asks me if Ashley’s mad at her. I tell her I don’t know. She then asks if I have any idea what could make her mad. I mention the beer bottles that have been sitting there all weekend. “They aren’t mine, they aren’t Ashley’s. Someone’s got to clean up after themselves.”

Maria’s response: “They’re Mike’s.”

“So are you going to ask him to come up and clean up, or are you going to clean up after your guest?”

“No, listen, this is how it is. I only had two beers, and Mike had like, six,” She then explains everything that I just told her with with many useless words and little sense. She then declares that she can’t clean up because there’s no room in the trash can.

“So take change the bag.”
“I don’t know where to take it.”
“I’ll show you. Clean up.”
“Look, I only drank two…” and she goes on again about how much she drank.

“That doesn’t matter. Unless you want to set those bottles in front of Mike’s door, you’re cleaning them up.”

“Okay, mom.

“Those bottles have been sitting there all weekend.”
“They’ve been sitting there two days! Mike ordered Pizza and beer!”
“And you had Mike over on Friday night when I came back. You two never clea-”
“We cleaned that up! He was over Monday again.”
“Fine, fine, whatever, just clean it up already.” The bottles had most definitely been there since Friday, unless she cleaned up, and they made the exact same mess and placed the bottles in the exact same spots with the exact same amount of beer in them on Monday.

She comes up with another brilliant defense. “What about those dishes, huh? How long have they been sitting there? Since last week?”
“They aren’t mine.”
“But still…”
“Come on,” I said, and lifted the garbage bag I’d been tying off.

She followed me to the trash chute, all the while bitching about how she’d rather we talk to her face than bitch behind her back (which we hadn’t done.) She then got in the lift and took the beer bottles to Mike’s apartment.

And she’s 24. Fucking immature.

Dream 02.10.29

I don’t remember much, but it started with started with my confusion as to why there were several technology related things hanging on a wall in our apartment (though it didn’t look like my current one). I asked Ashley if they were hers, and she said no. I looked at one item, an indigo-cased photo printer with images saved onto it’s drive. All the images were of me and Jorenko. I looked at another item. Everything within it related to Jorenko and myself.

I walked outside, and then to a mall. Jorenko was with me. There’s some kiosk set up to assist people in learning to use computers. I decide to look at it. The tutors weren’t very good at their job. They refused to explain things in a manner in which the people they were teaching could understand. They kept using only the technical terms, and confusing people more. I stepped over and tried to explain something to someone so they’d understand it, and the suit-n-tie technician that was instructing him got pissed off. He told me to stay out of this and let him do his job.

Hrmph. How rude. I tapped him on the shoulder, and asked him his name. It was Alan Boihd. (Dunno the name at all in real life.) “Well, Alan, I’m Amanda, and I think you’re doing a pretty crappy job at your voca-”
“Well, Amanda was it? I think you should leave now.”
Hrmph. He turned to face his coworker and strike up conversation with him. I leaned over and whispered to him, “You’ll pay for your crimes…”

Jorenko then pulled me away, and I continued to complain about how rude it was of the man to ignore me, and how rude it was for him to ignore that the person he’s teaching isn’t understanding anything.

We walked to another a store and browsed the art therein. Jorenko accidentally stepped on one of the artworks while trying to look at another, so I quickly ushered him out, upset that he was such a klutz.

Into yet another store we went, and we bought some sunglasses.

While walking to the next place, we saw the side of a store called “M. Boihd, A. Boihd.” The Boihd brothers owned their own store, and the M was an artist, while the A was a tech. I felt the strong urge to cause their place much damage, but I held back.

It was near closing time for the mall, but my sunglasses weren’t fitting right, so Jorenko and I ran as fast as we could. We caught the store as it was closing, and the owners didn’t notice us in it when they locked up. Great.

Jorenko looked around for a way out. I set about looking at the merchandise. I found a bedroom setting, and turned on a tv in there. The TV blipped out rather quickly, and a monster jumped out of the closet. The monster pinned me in a corner between the bed and the wall and raped me. I quickly recovered and turned on the TV again. Jorenko walked in and saw I was watching an anime he’d seen. “Did you see the predator in the closet scene?” he asked. I just nodded.

Jorenko had come in to tell me he’d found a way out, but I didn’t follow right away. I instead grabbed a new cell phone and a new pair of sunglasses. Jorenko asked me, “What use are those things to you? You can’t change the settings yourself.”

While I was still looking for the glasses I wanted, I said to him, “You know, I realized something: this is my world and I control it.”

We walked outside, and I made a point that I controlled it by causing damage to the Boihd store without even touching it. I put on my sunglasses and walked off, but Jorenko didn’t follow me.

Maria & CTA

She knocks on the door and exclaims that she’s in a “fucking hurry,” then adds seven more unneeded sentences. She won’t shut up. I finally say, “Are you going to stop talking for a second so I can answer?”
“Well, it looked like you were thinking.”
“I knew the answer to your question before you went on explaining everything. Just be quiet for a second so I can-”
“Come on, Amanda, I’m in-”
“I’m ina hu-”
I explain to her how to get to school using public transportation. She pays very little attention because she’s too busy asking me to repeat things I just said. So she finally comes to the conclusion that to take the 77 bus to the station and then the Dan Ryan/95 train to the Washington stop, and then back, it’s going to cost her $6. (It will only cost $3.60 if she’d paid attention properly)
“… if this is your first time on anything CTA, you probably shouldn’t be going alone.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t seem to understand anything I just told you very well.”
“Believe me girl, I’ll be fine.”

I bet my debt she’ll get lost.


What the fuck is wrong with that damned bitch Lametria?

Somehow I’m violating her rights by getting angry at her for giving out my phone number to a bunch of her friends  in LA, and then not telling them that she moved out.

She called asking for Ashley. I told her Ashley has left, probably for school.

“Did you even check?”

“Ashley and Maria both showered and left less than an hour ago. I’m pretty sure she’s not here.”

Then the fucking ghetto bitch goes off on some tanget that was barely decernable to the English speaking populus, and ends it with “Bitch”