sirena: (End on end like a long lost astronaut.)
Argh, so many things!

Part One: In which I am not stalked.

  • April 11, 11:47am

Another phone call on Friday, as soon as I left the room to go to the bathroom. Bryan and Jeremy opted not to answer it, fearing my wrath. Unbeknownst to me, Jeremy called me 3 minutes later via Skype, which also shows up "unavailable," and I spent a full 30 seconds talking on speakerphone before I realized that it was just echoing back everything I said. Then I hit him.

  • April 14, 12:14am

I answered it! A momentary hesitation, a la a telemarketer, and then: "Is N...Novo Eric* there?" I told them it was a wrong number, and they haven't called back. I guess it was a telemarketer after all. Is it wrong that I'm disappointed it wasn't something weirder?

*I have no idea what name she said. That is what it sounded like.

Part Two: In which I make research posters marginally less boring.

At the last minute, I pulled something magical out of my ass for NIH's Spring Research Festival program cover competition (whew).


I didn't think I would win, frankly, since it's a bit more "rock poster" than they normally go for, but I did (this may or may not be because there were no other submissions)! And I get a prize, apparently, but who knows when that will be. I keep joking that it'll probably be something I'll have no use for, like a certificate for a free box of mice.

Part Three: In which I lose track of the days and forget IMPORTANT THINGS!

Holy Cats, Rachel and Jason! In my research poster-induced haze, time slipped by and I neglected to wish you a


In celebration I have assembled for you a Muxtape. Er, mixtape. Er, a bunch of songs I hand-picked. :)

Anyway, please accept my tardy congratulations on making it a whole year. The first of many!
sirena: (blue beetle; wtf?)

I'm kind of obsessed with this song right now. D:

And... Okay.

  • April 4 12:22pm
  • April 7 12:27pm
  • April 8 12:29pm*
  • April 9 12:25pm
  • April 10 12:15pm

These are all the times in the past week I've gotten some weird phone call from an "unavailable" number. Except for the 8th, which was "restricted," and when I answered it, I was disconnected right away. Sometimes when they call I'm out of the room, but even when I have it with me, for some reason I don't hear it--maybe it's not ringing. But look at the times--they're all between 12:15 and 12:30. Maybe someone is bored on their lunch break. It's sort of pissing me off, either way. D:
sirena: (Default)
God, do I hate government bureaucratic red tape bullshit.

Also: talking to strangers on the phone. My new measure of how much I hate something is by comparing it to throwing up, as in "I would rather throw up than do x." I would rather throw up than talk to strangers on the phone.

Also also: When I am driving to/from work, I am just trying to get from point A to point B with as little stress as possible. I do not need to be leered at by unshaven, unwashed rednecks or round-faced 14-year-old little kids.

My question, then, is for the ladies (although I suppose dudes can answer, too):

[Poll #1007338]

I feel like flipping them off is too much of a provocation. :/

ETA, mostly to Joel: Rolling my eyes would work, but I am usually wearing sunglasses. :<

Honey trap

Oct. 12th, 2006 10:32 pm
sirena: (teapot; supercharged)
So I've finally got a new machine working, sort of, although it's quite bare-bones right now, and I'm going around collecting all my programs but all my files (and my bookmarks! eee) are still on the old computer including my whole music library and for some reason the sound isn't working and it keeps saying I have a Bad DirectSound Driver and gives me an error code and I can't find the thing for After Effects with the serial number and I MISS MY MUSIC and ARGH.

Some of those issues have since been resolved. (However: Why won't Shockwave thingies play, even after I've "successfully installed the Shockwave Player"? Do I need to restart Ff?)

I never named the last computer, but I am looking forward to coming up with a new name for this one. I thought "Francine" before but I sort of don't like it.

Meanwhile, the saga of Uncomfortable Facebook Messages continues.

I said last time that I was going to keep dicking around with the friend details until Dude gave in, and so I have:

You were members of The Avengers from 1997 to 1999.
You took Secrets of Microwaving in spring 1994.
You were members of Justice League International from 1987 to 1992.

Personally, I think it's brilliant.

On 10.02 we had this exchange:

Him: what are u talking about.. i wasn't even born that time..!**#$%%

Moi: Neither of us are superheroes, either. That's why it's funny! 8D

It is. It is funny.

But this afternoon, ten days later, another piece of my soul withered away to black, crispy, shrively nothingness:

I know but, you r getting sexy.. you know that?

Yes, I know that, but-- What? WHAT?? Oh, EW, I need a shower. Nay, I don't think mere water could remove a feeling of dirty embedded so deep. So I texted Jeremy (who is in Chicago) that Dude here is totally hitting on his woman (nevermind that I am not really his woman in the nebulous state in which we remain) and he offered to pummel him.

I think I would like that honor for myself.

I have a lot of bits of conversation that I would like to remember (you guessed it, they involve certain boys) but I am not up to doing all of that tonight.

Tim, if you are surreptitiously reading this, which I doubt and I really hope you aren't, congrats: Yours are the first mp3s to be added to this here beast.
sirena: (blue beetle; wtf?)
Firstly: Anyone with my cell number, please expect my phone to be dying shortly. This is really just directed at Caleb. :P

Secondly... Ugrgh.

I've explained this elsewhere, but for the sake of a larger audience I'll reiterate.

My Facebook profile reads thusly:

Nicki is a very hot & COOL & anarchy & peace & hard & soft & pineapple-like girl.

I have an addiction to housewares. And I hate the word "panties." No, seriously, I hate it.

I know I ripped off the copy on the back of Cowboy Bebop OST 1. I'm okay with it. :P

Anyway, so there's this guy who's been in my animation classes since last spring, although I only really started talking to him last semester. I'm really not interested in him or anything, but we always joke around in the lab, so when I saw he was finally on Facebook, I added him.

Then one day I got this message:

Hey pineapple girl how r u? how is u r summer going?
I know u hate the word "panties" it should be underwear- right? by the way - the words that u said about you - turned me on.

...Just...ew, ew, ew.

So I did what I always do: Ignored him. :D And this was fine and I didn't hear another word from him until the other day:

hey where r u? how r u? how is u r bbs

My main thought: WTF is "bbs"? Anyone? Bueller?

I suppose I have to start school again tomorrow.
sirena: (♥ Streets of Rage)
As promised, your stalker story )

The cover story, for the record: Casey Ackerman, Loyola, psychology major.

Art and Dave are completely awesome and I can't believe I got paid $10 an hour to make/listen to dirty jokes and throw around paper airplanes.
sirena: (Hell is other people.)
Wasting time before work, and I'll elaborate later, but


I have another stalker. How the hell did he find me, agahahskjhfjf. Do I have a sign on my forehead??


sirena: (Default)

June 2011

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