All PMS symptoms have taken a backseat to my incredible excitement … an excitement that is not at all connected to PMS-related randiness.

Remember how I was all, “Oh, I don’t want to get my hopes up,” and “Oh, I probably won’t get in,” and “Oh, I don’t know where the hell I’ll be in the fall” and all that crap?

I got in! I’m moving to San Francisco! They like me, really, really, really!

I received the news today, while checking my voicemail on the bus after work. The guy who interviewed me left a message that started with “Well we gave it some thought,” and I was all erectin’ my defense mechanisms and preparing for a “and you don’t got what it takes, babe. Lose 15 pounds and then give us a call,” because my head is still all stupid-entrenched in audition mentality.

But then? He concluded with, “and we’d like to welcome you to the program. You gave a very strong interview, and we’re excited to have you!” And then, he told me I was pretty! Well, not really, but it was implied! It’s always implied! I could hear it in his voice. In a completely unsketchy way, of course, because the guy’s a total poof. I’ll bet when he tells people “You’re in,” it doesn’t usually pertain to admissions. (I’d ask for a rim shot, but I wouldn’t want to insinuate yet another double-entendre at the expense of my very nice future professor.)

Know what’s cool, is that I wasn’t expecting to hear from them for a few weeks, which only goes to show how dynamic (and pretty) I am.

So I’m all chair-dancing and writhing on the bus for reasons completely separate from PMS, and I want to hold up my phone and yell to my fellow passengers, “Did you guys HEAR THAT??? I GOT IN!!!” I kind of wish I had done that. I only have a few months, now, to make a name for myself among the Chicago Transit Authority crazies.

A few conversations that followed …

Me: I GOT IN!!!
Mom: I thought you weren’t going to hear for a few weeks and when did you find out and aren’t you so excited and make sure to bring a sweater and did you have a hot lunch?
Dad: Congratulations!
Me: Thanks!
Mom: Oh, honey, that’s wonderful. Everyone at school always asks about you and your sister and I get to tell them how we raised you and what you’re up to now and they’re always so interested because you and Kara are such interesting people and …
Dad: Kiddo, you’re cool.
Me: Thanks, Dad. So are you.
Mom: And to think! You did this all by yourself!
Me: *sighs* Yup. Thanks, Mom.
Dad: Aw, I’m proud of you, hon. You should be proud, too.

How cute. Let’s forget for a moment how condescending my mom’s “You did it ALL BY YOURSELF” comment was. I give up. She loves me. If I can ignore the useless and frequently insulting worrying, you can, too.

Me: GUESS WHAT?
Kara: You’re moving to San Francisco.
Me: What? Did our stupid parents tell you already?
Kara: No, I just figured that’s why you were calling. Unless you were calling to tell me you eloped or something, in which case I’d have to turn my car around and drive to Chicago to kill you.
Me: Wouldn’t that be kind of funny, though?
Kara: Yeah, I guess it would.
Me: You and Mom could make it into a race: See who could get here first, and then fight over who got to tear me apart.
Kara: That would be the worst game, ever!
Kelly: But you’d get to see Mom drive faster than she’s ever driven in her life.
Kara: … And she’d only be going, like, 70.
Kelly: HA!

Of course, there were the heartfelt congratulations and all that yay stuff … it’s just that the Sisterbeans is unflappable. She’ll see. One of these days, I’ll flap her good. Maybe during her wedding next May.

Just to show how unflappable she is: She and her fiancée have set a date, but they didn’t do so before Kara had gone online and consulted all possible academic calendars for all of the Psychology and Drama Therapy programs I was applying for, so she would be sure to pick a date that would not conflict with any possible schedule. Good for her, but Jesus. I wonder if my sister ever shits.

Me: GUESS WHAT???
Das Klug: What.
Me: NO! GUESS!
Das Klug: You’re moving to San Francisco!
Me: Yeah!
Das Klug: Hhhhhhhehehehehehehehe … [and I’m gonna leave it at that, because there’s really no way to fully convey the Klugarsh deepthroat cackle of faux-sinister glee.] We GOT YOU!

Less than a year ago, I was talking to Klugarsh about California, and I was all, “What’s biodiversity?” Ha.

Nikki: Hi! I got your message, and I’m so excited!
Me: Nikki! Me, too! Isn’t it weird?
Nikki: Totally. As soon as you left, I started thinking, “It’s gonna be so cool when Kelly’s here next fall …” but then I remembered it wasn’t definite. I just had a feeling. I was so nervous for you.
Me: I’m really happy, too. Thanks, Nikki. I’m so glad you’re excited.
Nikki: If there’s anything I can do, if you need a place to stay, anything, just let me know.

How fucking weird. In high school, Nikki and I used to daydream about being neighbors when we were all grown up. In those past daydreams, however, Nikki was married to her high school sweetheart and I lived down the street with her boyfriend’s hot and skulky friend. That’s kind of odd when I think about it, because those weren’t the lives we wanted, even then. It's fun to remember, though. Nikki and I lost touch for a few years, and now … so weird.

Nikki might be able to get me a job at her place of employment, too. She’s a writer/educator for a website that sells sex toys. I can just imagine my mom’s reaction if I get a job as a dildo peddler on the west coast. And I did it all by myself! Big girl!

More enthusiastic conversations took place, and more will follow.

Just a heads up, so all y’all in California can start preparing the welcoming party. I’m thinking something Roman. And I get the Caligula seat.

Stuff I need to think about right away, once I calm down:

1. How I’m getting out there. I need to book a truck, like, yesterday.
2. Financial aid. Oh, lawdy, the financial aid.
3. How I’ll manage to bring Ziggy. I’d hate to leave him behind, but apparently San Francisco renters aren’t very cat-friendly.

It’ll work out. I just can’t believe it. It feels good to have earned something that I wanted so badly.

More things that made today pretty good:

1. My friends and I are attending a Mexican Wrestling match on Cinco de Mayo. The night will be complete with midgets named things like “El Misterioso,” and burlesque girls such as “Toots L’Amour.”
2. Found out that a particularly lucky college buddy, who has always reminded me of a character from an F. Scott Ftzgerald novel, was hired as the executive producer for a feature film. Holy fuck, I swear that kid was in line behind Ashton Kutcher when he sold his soul to the devil. I highly doubt he misses it, though.
3. Little realizations that my friends are really fucking cool, so much so that I sometimes wonder why they like me.
4. Summertime is visiting time! My parents might try to come out soon, my sister’s gonna stop by, and my good friend ms. m will be here next week. (YAY!)Later this month, my favorite scene partner of all time will be visiting. Also, my roommates are getting together over in New York over Memorial Day Weekend, and, oh, crap, maybe I’ll just go. I’ll see if I can afford it. I LOVE VISITS!

I’m just excited, and so not thinking about my PMS.

Toast to me, unless you don't drink, in which case just have some toast.

Good night.

~ Last Five Entries ~

Arm-in-Arm Down Burgundy - 09.05.05

Motivated! - 08.25.05

Moths, and Relative Nonsense - 08.18.05

I Finally Have Internet Access in my Bedroom. But, No Ashtray. - 08.09.05

Here I Am - 08.02.05

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