@_@<--- My face through the whole two hours.

The series finale of Avatar was probably the best piece of television I have ever seen. It fucking ROCKED.

Current Mood: amazed

w00t!!! We got the house!! I am so totally stoked. Now to just get the school to give us money... But still, I'm really happy because Manthas is going to have a great place to live, and I'm going to have a great place to go on weekends. Seriously, this house is really nice, and the neighborhood it's in is freaking AMAZING. It's basically one of the nicest parts of Orlando. I'm so excited!

So Manthas and I are waiting to hear back on a possible rental house that is amazing. I am beyond nervous. I don't have mere butterflies in my stomach, o no, I have fucking Mecha Mothra doing his imitation of the Blue Angels at a damn air show. Blah. If only it was acceptable to drink booze at work.

The Fountain is a weird, weird movie. Not bad per se, but decidedly odd. I think on the whole I enjoyed it, now I just need a few days to decide if I have any idea what the fuck was going on the whole time.

Current Mood: thoughtful

I has my very own MP3 player! It is lovely and small and pink, and does not require iTunes or Media Player. This makes me very happy.

Current Mood: delighted

Wall-E was utterly fantastic! We went to see it Friday which is pretty amazing in and of itself because I hate going to see movies on Friday, and we almost never see movies opening night. The theater was packed, but the audience was generally well behaved, and the kids seemed to really like it because there was none of that "What's going on mommy?" commentary I often hear during "children's" films. (There was a 20-something blond girl behind us who kept asking what was going on, but we're pretty sure she was just an idiot.) The social commentary on environmental responsibility and the direction in which our American consumer culture is headed was not subtle, and yet it never felt preachy, or as if I was being bludgeoned with it. It was more of a background that helped frame the story. For me the story itself was about longing, the desire to connect with other people, and about having the courage to strive for what you want, even in the face of adversity. It was definitely one of those movies that takes you out of yourself, and engrosses you the whole time it's on the screen. I'm considering going to see it again this week, despite the 4 jillion other movies I still haven't seen yet. Also, it was so damn cute that in places it actually caused me physical pain! Truly, cute is my kryptonite.

Current Mood: happy

You are not cute. You are not entertaining. You are pissing me the fuck off, and I've only been up for two hours. Cut that shit out. Oh and co-workers? You aren't cute either. I don't want your racist, close minded political forwards, and I don't care how much you've had to drink this weekend, please don't fucking try to make copies upside down, and then tell me the printer cartridge is empty when they come out blank. Also, dentist office who's trying to overcharge us? Yeah, I've got my eye on you and you WILL regret it if you fuck with me.

Yours in anger,
Me

Oh man, that both hurt, and was really gross.

So Monday night I got home from the mall and realized that my left big toe hurt like a mofo, for no apparent reason. A closer examination of my foot revealed that a) I need a pedicure, and b) I appeared to have a rather inflamed ingrown toenail. Now where the hell did that come from? I can only imagine I cut it too short, but since I trimmed my toenails on Sunday night, that seems like an awfully short time to both become ingrown and then get infected. So anyway, I don't know how it happened, but this is the third time this toenail has become painfully ingrown, and it's getting old. At least this time it was on the left side of my toe, not the right, so it was slightly harder to bang it all over everything. So after some scrambling I get an appointment with a podiatrist to have it looked at. It's always sort of interesting when a doctor takes one look at your toe and winces. It was pretty obviously inflamed.

( Cut for those squeamish about blood... don't say I didn't warn you. )

And now my whole toe is all tender and painful. Ugh. And I still need a pedicure, but there's no way in hell I'm getting one until my toe heals. But hey, at least my toe doesn't look like an extra in "The Mummy IV: Revenge of the Gout"

Manthas just texted me. He was at Home Depot, looting the place. Just what I want, more shovels. I can't tell if he's brave or insane. I told him to come home and to not worry about food, since we had steak in the freezer.

I think the guys at work were right. I think Elvis IS a zombie cat. And I think maybe he's saved my life. Or extended it. I don't know. But I think when he scratched me, he gave me some milder form of whatever this infection is. Kind of like cow-pox vs. small pox. In the 18th century people inoculated themselves against small pox by infecting themselves with a less deadly version of the disease that they got from cows. Apparently I have cat-zombie, go figure. I've been Googling like mad, and it looks like the incubation period for regular "zombification" is awful short. I should be shuffling around trying to eat people after that bite at the gas station, but instead I'm hunkered down in my house updating LJ. Lame as it is to be blogging while turning into a zombie, I guess it's better than trying to eat peoples' brains.

I've got all the lights in the house turned off, because I read that zombies see better in the dark than humans. I realized damn near every fucking room in this house has a goddamn window, so not only was it lit up like a Christmas tree, but it's easy to break in to. Not good. I can hear noise outside, crashes, the occasional scream. It's scary as hell. But nothing's come through yet. I've shoved all our cats into the laundry room because it's the only room with no window, and I locked the door that leads from it to the garage. I'm sitting in the kitchen to try and stop anything from getting to them that way. I let Elvis out, and he's keeping me company. He's not super comforting, but a feel I a certain bond with him, fluffy psycho that he is.

I hope Manthas gets back here ok. It's been a long time since he texted me. I'm afraid of having him with me, because if I am infected, kitty strain or not, I'm bound to turn eventually. I guess I just have to hope they find a cure or something. Maybe I can hold out that long. Assuming no one tries to kill me because of the bite mark on my arm. I've been reading terrible things about people going mad and killing even the uninfected. I tried to get a hold of my parents, to tell them what happened, and see if they're ok. I hope they are, because I haven't had any luck. I can only pray that they're all right. If you read this mom, tell dad I love you both, and I'm going to hold on as long as possible.

I'm going to sign off now; I hear noise in the garage. Hopefully it's Manthas with the extra shovels.

Tags: bliteotw

I made it home.

John and Chris are both dead.

By the end, they decided Elvis was a zombie cat, and that I was infected, and that they needed to kill me before I changed. Unfortunately for them, I had holed up in the equipment room, which was full of shovels. I'm never going to look at a shovel the same way again. After that I decided I had to risk leaving. I was going to take my Jeep, but then it occurred to me that there was a work van in the parking lot. I ransacked Jake's office to find the keys, and then started grabbing supplies. I took the big first aid kit, a box of Nitrile gloves, and even though I didn't want to, I grabbed my shovel. From the kitchen I dumped out all the bottles of juice we had and filled them with water. By the time I was done I had quite a pile of crap in the hallway by the back door. The whole time Elvis stuck to me like a growly, furry, burr. When I had everything I needed, including my purse and the bag I keep in my desk full of band aids, utensils, a towel and various other crap, I had quite a pile. I realized I was going to have to make more than one trip. I started with the cat, my purse and the first aid kit. I put them up front and shut the doors, then ran around and opened up the back. Thankfully there were no zombies in the parking lot when I ran out, but I could see people down the street, and they all had a certain telltale shuffle to their movements. I ran back inside and began frantically moving stuff to the back of the van. It was a little slow, because I held onto the shovel. I've seen enough end of the world movies that I knew better than to leave my weapon behind.

It was a good thing I did. I had opened the driver's side door again and was about to get in when Elvis freaked out and started yowling. I turned around just in time to dodge a zombie who was reaching for me. I think I screamed, but I'm not sure. Then I got a grip on the shovel and swung it as hard as I could at the zombie's head. Zombies can definitely take more damage than living people, but they also don't struggle as hard. It took me 7 or 8 swings before the body finally stopped twitching. Then I hit it a few more times, just to be on the safe side. Whenever I watch action movies with my dad, he always yells at the hero or heroine to shoot the villain again, so that they wont get back up. Now my dad can't claim that I never listened to him.

The van was not easy to drive, since I don't normally drive using just my side view mirrors. On the plus side, in the middle of a zombie apocalypse I figured I wasn't likely to get pulled over for driving like an idiot. (Though really in Tampa, who would notice me among the hordes of normal idiots?) So I got on the road, and was doing pretty well when I realized something. The fucking van was almost out of gas. I almost just gave up and pulled over to have a good crying jag, but instead I turned into the first gas station, which was totally deserted. I grabbed the shovel and my wallet and got out, walking around the van to check for signs of undead, and to find the damn gas cap. Luckily it was on the driver's side. Filling up that gas tank took almost ten fucking minutes, and cost 110 dollars. One hundred and ten fucking dollars! Like being attacked by goddamn zombies isn't enough, I'm still getting ass raped for gas. I seriously hope a goddamn zombie eat's the Shrub and his whole damn cabinet. Hell, the vice president was already a zombie, maybe he'll do it.

While I was putting the pump back and bitching about the cost of the gas, I stopped paying attention to the rest of the parking lot. One minute I'm complaining about gas prices, the next minute there was a zombie latched onto my arm. The shovel had fallen down out of reach, so instead I stabbed the zombie in the head with the gas pump like it was a dagger. It probably shouldn't have worked, but adrenaline must have given me an extra boost of strength, because the pump went right through it's head, and the zombie let go of my arm. I picked my shovel back up and preceded to beat it's head to paste. When I got back into the van I locked all the doors and sat there for a minute, just trying to regroup. My arm hurt like hell, and made a nice counterpoint to my chest, which was still burning. Actually my chest still hurts the most. Anyway, I took my shirt off as a lost cause, which just goes to show we're living in a damn horror movie, because the girl always ends up with her shirt off. Of course I'm not built like a teen starlet, so maybe there's still hope. I rubbed alcohol swabs over the bite, yelling and cursing and crying the whole time, then wrapped it the best I could. Thank God it was my left arm.

The rest of the drive home was pretty uneventful. The traffic was way less than usual, which proves that there's a bright side to everything, since the end of the world has at least cut down on traffic. Now the van is in the garage, Elvis is locked in the guest bathroom and I've managed to shower off all the blood. Manthas wasn't here when I got home, and I'm glad. I don't know if this bite is enough to make me a zombie, or if I'd have to die first, or what. I locked the rest of the cats in his office. Hopefully if I start to change I'll realize it and get out before I hurt them. I wish I knew where Manthas was. I sent him a text message to warn him, but I don't know what cell phone reception is like right now, and he didn't answer his phone. I think he has a good chance though. He's really smart and resourceful, and he kind of hates people anyway, so he wont have any problem with attacking first and asking questions later. Who knew misanthropy would come in so handy?

I'm going to go find some food now. It disturbs me that I really want a very rare steak.

Tags: bliteotw
Current Mood: scared

I just took a look at the news finally.

Zombies? Seriously? What the fuck?

At first I was firmly convinced it was all some kind of massive hoax, but then I thought about the crazy guy. The more I think about it, the more I realize he looked (and smelled!) as if he were decomposing. And that wound on Elvis's foot? It... doesn't look so good. And neither do my scratches. I dug some anti-biotic cream out of the big first aid kit we keep for using in the field, and put some on me and some on the cat, who took is surprisingly well. My cuts have stopped bleeding at least, but they're so tender I took the gauze off and clipped my shirt back with binder clips to keep the fabric from touching skin. I'm sure I look nuts, but oh well. They look really inflamed and ugly.

Chris and John were going to take me to the hospital, but that turned out to be an issue. Before we were going to leave we got a radio tuned to the local news station to try and check the situation; they're recommending that everyone stay in doors. Apparently the sheriff's department up the street was taken out by a large group of zombies, and the hospital nearest us is over run. It turns out some of the people infected earliest were taken to Town and County and ended up going on a rampage earlier, attacking health workers and other patients. Now the neighborhood is full of them. We've seen a few of them now, wandering around, especially in the vacant lot next door. I keep waiting for them to try and break through one of the many, many windows. I think maybe I'll hole up in one of the inner offices that have no windows.

I really need to get a hold of Manthas.

Tags: bliteotw

OK, that was painful and terrifying. I was sitting here working and I saw this guy walk up (my desk is in the lobby and there are windows to my right, and the front doors are glass, so I see everyone approaching the office) out of the corner of my eye. I just assumed he was a salesperson or something, and was kind of waiting for him to come in so I could tell him to leave. Next thing I know I hear Elvis outside shrieking his kitty brains out, and I can see the guy has grabbed him. I go r