Stupid stuff in my head - try and stay with me

Our truck just turned 70,000 miles as I was making my trip to the hardware store. That means it will probably break down while John is driving home from band practice, because the warranty is now expired. We haven't even paid the damn thing off. Couple the mileage with the fact that this is our only vehicle, and you have the makings of a bad situation.

I don't have any gay friends. I have known gay people, but they were always on the periphery of my socialization. Maybe it's just that I don't delve into people's sexual orientation, or I don't have a large enough pool of people I know. Maybe I just annoy the hell out of gay people. I even spent one semester working toward a fashion merchandising degree and two years working toward a degree in interior design and architecture. There were many gay men in my classes, but I never became friends with any of them. Going to class might have helped that though. Where am I going with this? I don't know. I'm just stupid.

I bought two chisels and a roll of Scotch tape at the hardware store. The checkout clerk asked me if the tape was to fix any mistakes I made with the chisels. My first reaction: just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I'm going to mess up while using a damn tool. My second, more reasonable reaction: laugh. I chose the second and gained a delightful story about how his grandmother once fixed a hole in her wall by putting tape over it and painting right over the tape. He did tell me to be careful with the chisels as I walked out the door, which leads me to believe my first reaction wasn't all that irrational, but sometimes it's better to just smile those things off. Little does he know, John is the one who would probably hurt himself with a chisel.

I can't decide whether I want to do a cool broken tile thing or just buy some pre-fab decorative tiles or do some kind of mosaic thing when I re-tile my tabletop. I need to keep in mind this table is still going to be used by our family containing children, so I am not so sure about the broken tile thing. I don't know if I can grout it enough so as not to be too jagged and bumpy. This is my first tiling project, so I need to be realistic too. Knowing myself, I also need to make sure I don't take on a project that's too involved, or we'll be eating off a particle board inset table until I give up and buy a new one.

John's band got a new drummer and a new singer. Both are of the same name to replace the two guys who are leaving of a different same name. The new singer is British. It is so cool to answer the phone and hear him ask for John with that accent. He called to ask a computer question yesterday. I couldn't answer it, and John wasn't home to answer it either, but damn if I didn't have to make sure I didn't talk in a Madonna-esque manner. He's going to think I'm mocking him when I'm really just highly susceptible to accents. Thank God I've staved off this Pittsburgh accent as much as possible though. That's just too annoying to pick up.

I have to get my hair cut before my split ends climb so far up my hair shafts that I end up with a buzz cut. That, and I'm starting to scare myself whenever I look in the mirror and see myself without bangs. Never let anyone tell you bangs cause your forehead to break out. I've have no hair on my forehead for about a month now, and I have all kinds of little zitty things on there. And my mother told me I would grow out of this. I'm still waiting for that to happen.

My skin is a mess right now. I'm breaking out all over my body. Is this some kind of post-traumatic skin disorder? My skin was unbelievably clear while I was sitting at my daughter's hospital bedside. Now I'm home, back to my old routine, and I'm breaking out like a damn teenager. It's on my arms! I don't think I've had zits on my arms since the tenth grade. Damn!