Friday, November 14, 2008

Colbert Slays Me!

Last night was the best Colbert of all time. It's as if he directed his show to me. Or at least parts of it. There was Pope humor, Footprints humor (haha!), and best of all, Jane Austen humor. I died. I am officially dead now. It was awesome.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Remember this little bit?

Well check this out:

See what I'm saying? I think it's the sunglasses. (There are better pics but you get the point.) This was Monday when he went to visit Bush. I saw about 5,000 pictures of him getting off the plane on the news yesterday and had to post them. Most presidents look like they're about to fall off the steps. Not Barack. He looks cool and determined and... did I mention cool?
He can most likely only disappoint from this moment on but for now? I'm impressed.

Monday, November 10, 2008

My emotions have been hijacked and a crisis averted.

I just watched last week's Grey's Anatomy. It involved old people. I cannot handle old people dying or being sad or freaking pumping the heart of their significant other after they sign the Do Not Resuscitate Form but have changed their minds when the SO is actually dying. I watched the first few episodes of ER way back when but stopped watching when too many old people died on the show. I'm not ashamed to watch and like Grey's Anatomy but I'm here to say I will stop watching their stupid show if more old people die on it. I cannot handle old people dying.

You know how after some cries, especially ones induced due to sappy tv shows or movies, you feel cathartic? Like you needed it in some way? I do not feel that way now. I feel mad. And pissed. And incredibly sad. I CANNOT handle old people dying.

On the bright side I gave my MOH toast at the wedding this weekend. It went pretty well I think. I was a little drunk afterwards and demanded praise for it. I'm not quite as annoying now, although I'll still take praise, but I was pretty worried about sounding like an idiot. I had a story to tell that was incredibly appropriate, but I really, really wanted to do the bride justice by telling it right. I didn't want to half-ass it and make the bride wish I'd said something better. I'm a little concerned I didn't praise her enough. Everything that I am - she's the opposite. I think because of that I respect and admire her more than I would if she were more like me. Because I know how easy it is to say and do all the wrong things (me) and how very hard it is to be patient and nice and forgiving and generally awesome (her). So if I didn't say it enough then - to you, B, may he make you happier than you can ever imagine you deserve. And may the rest of us beat him down if he doesn't!

Oh and she'll never read this because I'll forget to remind her by the time she comes back from her two weeks (wtf??) in Tahiti. I hate them.

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

America - fuck yeah!

I sat in someone else's living room. I heard the cheers. I lifted my glass. I sat outside. I heard screams coming from neighboring houses. I drove home. There were people dancing in the street and horns honking all around.

Austin wasn't this happy when Vince Young won us the Rose Bowl in 2005. I love it here, and for the first day in my entire life, I wish I had a flag pin.

Oh and Karl Rove? Raise those Horns and sing that fight song again and I will send Bevo after you. I'm not even kidding.

Monday, November 03, 2008


I'm so freaking excited! I can't WAIT until tomorrow. I hope he wins, I hope he wins, I hope he wins....

*fingers crossed*

Oh and I'm at a standstill with my MOH toast. Big surprise, eh? I have a great story to tell but I hate to tell it plus I want to kill in the humor department. I could totally bash the groom and get a few guffaws but I want the crows rolling. Hmmm... how to accomplish, how to accomplish? The wedding is Saturday. Any suggestions? Oh and I can't sing very well so it would have to be something incredibly easy, musically, if it were to be in song. And the same goes for dancing. I can take sarcasm to an artform though, if that helps.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Calorie counting is new? What?

I read a blog post on Jezebel about the resurgence of calorie counting and then I read this NYTimes article about the same thing. I have two thoughts: 1) Why is Jezebel so blatantly ripping off the NYTimes? and 2) What? Huh? How is this new?

I'm not going to pretend to be an expert on weight loss (as anyone who has seen the size of my ass can attest to), but if ever me and mine are trying to lose a few pounds, it's always straight to the calorie counting. Any reader of Bridget Jones knows that food diaries (complete with caloric breakdown, and for the more OCD among us, protein and carb breakdowns too) and exact knowledge of calories in any given piece of food are a part of life. I can't remember the last time a diet didn't involve obsessive counting of calories. Who doesn't know that 3700 calories equals a pound of fat and that to lose 2 pounds a week, you have to cut (either through exercise or better nutrition) 7400 calories a week? Who doesn't eyeball the Starbucks menu and know exactly which skinny drink to order in exactly the size that fits in your "snack" quota of calories for the day? Who also doesn't know which fast food items to order (if one must order fast food) off the menu for the lowest-calorie meal?

I know extreme calorie counters (B, I'm looking at you) and I know lazy calorie counters. But pretty much everyone I know - at least the females - count calories in some way, shape, or fashion. I'm quite surprised about the "calorie counting is so 1980s" theme these articles are espousing.

I'll leave you with a Bridget Jones' Diary quote, which related to alcoholic units, calories, and cigarettes: Calories/Units/Cigs? "Oh ziiiillllliiiiooonnnsssss....." (It's possible I added a letter or two.)

Tuesday, October 21, 2008


I like bluegrass music. I do. I really like it. Of course, my opinion is solely based on an episode of King of the Hill that I saw last night. But still.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

My cups filleth over - who knew?

I went for a bra fitting today at a real lingerie shop. No Vicky S or even the Oprah-touted Nordies. I went to a place that's been around for ages, sells really expensive lacy things, and is practically the only store in town where one can find a 32 FFFF (if that's even a size).

You don't just walk into this store to browse either. Oh no. There's a sign-up sheet when you first walk in and a professional fitter (aka salesperson) takes you in the back and starts bringing in bras (after a firm measurement, of course). You never even get to walk through the store and think about what you might want. Instead you tell the "fitter" and they bring you different shapes, colors, materials, etc. The fitter also gets super personal with your ladies. It's not a place for the shy.

I originally went in the store thinking I would get a new bra (mine is currently held together by luck) and possibly some appropriate undergarment for the bridesmaid dress I'll be wearing in an upcoming wedding. Apparently the makers of BM dresses, not so unlike other dress makers, assume that a person with a significant bottom half must have a top to match. I don't know if they make bra sizes big enough to match my ass, but if they do they're at the store I went to today. Needless to say, I have A LOT of room up top in the dress and I was curious what advice the "fitter" would give. She suggested a bustier. I suggested going bra-less. We settled on cups that can be sewn in by the tailor. Apparently looking completely flat-chested in a dress isn't a good "look" for me, i.e. the bra-less version. Whatev.

So as it turns out I'm about 2 cups sizes bigger than I thought. I was right on the band size but this is all quite a shock to me (a girl who swears by the "miracle" of VS to help them look like anything other than the smallest of the small). I tried on the new, bigger bra and was completely overwhelmed. I think I still am. The cup was so huge! It's not like it made my boobs look bigger or anything. The bigger bra just made the bra look bigger. Very weird and disconcerting. Apparently the boob-look I'm used to is not the natural boob-look. Go figure.

The other weird thing? VS tried to tell me last year that my cup size was too small but I laughed in their faces thinking they were dumb VS salespeople. Now I've had a 2nd professional fitting and they say the same thing. I don't know who to believe - them (the professionals) or my own conception of boob-look and sizes. I think I need a 3rd fitting to fully accept the unavoidable: I now have a grown-up girl bra size. Sad.

A new, terrifying thought: do I have to reevalate my low-cut blouses that I always thought were okay to wear because my boobs were so small (a la Debra Messing, pre-baby)? My world is askew...

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

2 weeks off?

If only I had a good excuse for not posting for two weeks. Something like vacation or dreamy days spent in fruity drink bliss. Unfortunately I've been too busy with work to post. How's that for shitty excuses?

I do have a few thoughts I think worth noting:

1) I did not like HP 7 after I first read it. As a matter of fact, it was the only HP book I didn't immediately (or thereafter) re-read. It remained on the shelf as the the one book I read once and put away. Frankly, I was mad at it. I didn't want the series to end - how do I describe my love for HP? - and this was the last book. So I took my anger out on the book itself. But in the last two weeks I've had quite a few hours to kill while driving from city to city (Texas is big, y'all), and the only book on tape I had on my iPod that I hadn't listened to was the last HP book. I gave in and let Jim Dale weave his magic and guess what? I like HP 7 now. I really like it. It's not as good when the kids aren't at Hogwarts, but it made me cry more times than I care to admit and that's usually a sign of a good book. I no longer have an angry, little knot in the bottom of my stomach when I think about Book 7. And actually, I think I might pick it up and give it another read sometime soon.

2) AUX inputs rock soooo much better than FM adapters. One of the best things about my new car, besides the obvious new car stuff, is the AUX input thing. I can listen to my iPod straight now, without any static or changing of FM channels. It it seriously awesome.

3) It recently came to my attention that non-Texans don't realize what "Don't Mess with Texas" really means. It's an anti-litter campaign. Although everything is bigger (and better) here, we don't actually create advertising campaigns strictly to shove it in other states' faces that we think we're better/tougher/etc. than everyone else. We're just anti-litter because we have so many freakin' roads to clean up.

4) Speaking of litter, throwing a cigarette butt out a car window is littering. I wish citizens' arrests were allowed for littering, because I'd be issuing those buggers all the damn time.

5) I can't think of any American sayings that people actually use. My friend is going to London next week and she's been talking a lot recently with her British friend, who apparently uses a lot of slang that we've never heard of. Accordingly, she's trying to think of American slang that doesn't cross the pond on a regular basis. All the slang I thought of used illicit words but apparently we all use those phrases. I was no help and the only things she came up with were phrases I've never heard anyone actually use, like snug as a bug in a rug. Who says that? Children's books maybe. But real people? Any thoughts on ways to mystify the English? I'm up for any suggestions.

6) ACORN has gotten a raw deal lately. I don't understand shadowing a non-profit organization with clouds of "quasi-criminal" activity (direct quote from stupid Repub chairman) if you don't have actual proof of it and especially when there is evidence that partisan groups (ahem) did some falsifying to create controversy. (See Washington Post and The Guardian for further stories.)

7) No one knows who Holly Golightly is. Go figure.

8) I learned something from Gossip Girl last night: there's an author named George San out there somewhere that someone thinks is worth reading. I haven't bothered to figure out who that is or what she wrote (I think it's a she), but don't ever say you can't learn something from television.

9) When traveling, Keith Olbermann is an excellent source of comfort. When one's world is topsy-turvy and one is rolling in the muck of liars and thieves, it's nice to know there's always someone there to be outraged for you, even if his topic is politics and yours is not. It's still nice to know that at 8/7c you can hear someone else yelling in the room for a change.

10) I'm a total bitch. I knew it before but I'm owning it now. Out of a room full of women, I'm the only one who wasn't being passive-agressive. I was just being agressive-agressive, which apparently leads to the older (and more powerful) men in the room being proud of you - didn't need their approval but it's nice nonetheless, especially when they're technically the big bosses.

Wednesday, October 01, 2008

Daily Pointers, yo.

1. Axe Body Spray does not cover up the smell of personal filth (i.e. funk and body odor).

2. Girls do not automatically want to put band-aids on people just because they're girls.

3. Pensises do not actually get larger when a man holds a drill. They might technically get smaller. (Shrinkage through comparison, you see.)

4. Just because your decision was quick does not make it not stupid.

5. A Cubs baseball game will always look like a blooper reel.

6. Volunteering for more work sometimes means you'll really get more work.

7. A step back is not necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes you can get a better sense of the big picture and focus on what's really important (like your crazy, brilliant ideas and talents that got you started in the first place).

8. Halloween costumes lose their luster when worn all day at work, in the evening trick-or-treating, and at night for the big shindig.

9. Throwing your legs up over your ass only works when your ass isn't the size of a small national forest. (Pilates instructors should really know this.)

10. I should really be allowed to make all decisions everywhere. Or else run my own hugely-popular think tank. I'm open for either suggestion although I'm partial to the think tank.

Friday, September 26, 2008

The top 75 books by women, as decided by Jezebel.

I'm all about this list. I'm a top 10 maniac. I used to buy every year-end review and top 10 of the year magazines on the newstands (until I got a job and realized I couldn't afford it). One of my mini-goals in life is to find and agree with a definitive book and/or movie list and make my way through it. So here is yet another "best of" list but this one is about books written by women (mostly) and decided by the editors and readers of Jezebel. It's an awesome list. I have a few books on my reading list right now but once I'm done, I'm tackling this list. Suggestions on where to start? (My thoughts in italics.)

  • The Lottery (and Other Stories), Shirley Jackson read it in high school
  • To the Lighthouse, Virginia Woolf own it but have refused to read it for some reason
  • The House of Mirth, Edith Wharton one of my favorite books evah!
  • White Teeth, Zadie Smith
  • The House of the Spirits, Isabel Allende
  • Slouching Towards Bethlehem, Joan Didion
  • Excellent Women, Barbara Pym
  • The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath seriously? I'm not into slitting my wrists right now...
  • Wide Sargasso Sea, Jean Rhys
  • The Namesake, Jhumpa Lahiri saw the movie
  • Beloved, Toni Morrison read it, got totally caught up in it, and felt really, really weird for awhile afterwards
  • Madame Bovary, Gustave Flaubert amazing
  • Like Life, Lorrie Moore
  • Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen are you kidding? my favorite book of all time.
  • Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë read it. eh.
  • The Delta of Venus, Anais Nin I'm scared of Anais Nin. Should I be?
  • A Thousand Acres, Jane Smiley
  • A Good Man Is Hard To Find (and Other Stories), Flannery O'Connor read it in high school but can't remember it
  • The Shipping News, E. Annie Proulx
  • You Can't Keep a Good Woman Down, Alice Walker
  • Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora Neale Hurston
  • To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee
  • Fear of Flying, Erica Jong
  • Earthly Paradise, Colette
  • Angela's Ashes, Frank McCourt
  • Property, Valerie Martin
  • Middlemarch, George Eliot own it but am scared of the tiny print.
  • Annie John, Jamaica Kincaid
  • The Second Sex, Simone de Beauvoir
  • Runaway, Alice Munro B gave me this one. I've read about half of the stories. They're really good.
  • The Heart is A Lonely Hunter, Carson McCullers
  • The Woman Warrior, Maxine Hong Kingston
  • Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë like movie versions better.
  • You Must Remember This, Joyce Carol Oates
  • Little Women, Louisa May Alcott *sob* Beth!
  • Bad Behavior, Mary Gaitskill
  • The Liars' Club, Mary Karr
  • I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou amazing book of poetry. practically the only one I own.
  • A Tree Grows In Brooklyn, Betty Smith read this in junior high or elementary school thinking it was a young adult book. it's not and i think i've blocked it out.
  • And Then There Were None, Agatha Christie
  • Bastard out of Carolina, Dorothy Allison
  • The Secret History, Donna Tartt
  • The Little Disturbances of Man, Grace Paley
  • The Portable Dorothy Parker, Dorothy Parker this reminds me of Gilmore Girls.
  • The Group, Mary McCarthy
  • Persepolis, Marjane Satrapi
  • The Golden Notebook, Doris Lessing
  • The Diary of Anne Frank, Anne Frank does the play count?
  • Frankenstein, Mary Shelley I once got in a disagreement over the meaning of the word sublime because of this book. I was right.
  • Against Interpretation, Susan Sontag
  • In the Time of the Butterflies, Julia Alvarez
  • The Good Earth, Pearl S. Buck high school again. horribly depressing.
  • Fun Home, Alison Bechdel
  • Three Junes, Julia Glass
  • A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, Mary Wollstonecraft
  • Sophie's Choice, William Styron
  • Valley of the Dolls, Jacqueline Susann
  • Love in a Cold Climate, Nancy Mitford it's on my amazon wishlist. does that count?
  • Gone with the Wind, Margaret Mitchell read it multiple times. love it.
  • The Left Hand of Darkness, Ursula K. LeGuin
  • The Red Tent, Anita Diamant
  • The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera it's on my list - thanks B! - and sitting on my end table by the couch
  • The Face of War, Martha Gellhorn
  • My Antonia, Willa Cather
  • Love In The Time of Cholera, Gabriel Garcia Marquez love marquez even though i haven't read this one.
  • The Harsh Voice, Rebecca West
  • Spending, Mary Gordon
  • The Lover, Marguerite Duras
  • The God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy
  • Tell Me a Riddle, Tillie Olsen
  • Nightwood, Djuna Barnes
  • Three Lives, Gertrude Stein
  • Cold Comfort Farm, Stella Gibbons seen the movie and Kate Beckinsdale has some effed up teeth in it. *shudder*
  • I Capture the Castle, Dodie Smith yep. I read it. I don't think it belongs on this list.
  • Possession, A.S. Byatt I feel like I've read this but I can't put my finger on what it's about....

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

"Son, be a dentist. You'll be a success."

Me yesterday at work: "Dentist appt. In late." on Where Are You? Board (preparing for next morning)
Me last evening: double checking calendar for time of appointment.
Me this morning: sleeping a tad late, fun!
Me later this morning: walking in dentist office for appointment approximately 2 minutes early (my goal in all appointments).
Nurse in dentist office: Why are you here, sweetie?
Me: my appointment, duh. I have one on Tuesday the 22nd.
Nurse: This is Tuesday the 23rd. You had one yesterday on Monday the 22nd. You missed it.
Me: Shit.

Friday, September 19, 2008

I Hate Hurricanes.

And I've never approved of Ike as a real name either. While most of my family and my friends and their families came away from Ike with relative minor damage (no electricity, boiling water, minor flood damage, fences knocked down, chimney splits in two, roof peeled up in the corner, roof ripped off, 50+ year-old trees completely gone, cars crushed, etc., etc., etc.), some people got really sucker-punched.

As I've mentioned before I'm natural disaster sensitive. I blame Katrina. Ever since those first dreams of floods, every tornado, earthquake, tsunami, and gentle breeze that got media coverage has made its way into my nightmares. Ike is no exception. I'm declaring today that the nightmares will stop. I will no longer dream about drifting out to sea on a leftover piece of roof, about cats being stranded in trees, and a building crashing in around me while I'm attempting to call my mother (now a recurring nightmare). I'm declaring myself free from these horrors.

While I'm in the dream-demanding mood, I'll take a few more about Brad Pitt, thank you very much.

And yet another casualty of Ike? My dear Astros. May they kick some Pirate ass! (And may the Phillies kick some Marlin ass (two birds and all), the Braves some Mets ass, and the Reds some Brewers ass. Whew. That's a lot of teams to count on at one time...

Friday, September 12, 2008

*sniffle* I'm the biggest sports nerd.

There's a new female attorney in my office who plays fantasy football. That fact aside, I like her a lot. (I'm opposed to all fantasy sport leagues. I think it takes away from the team aspect of the game although I'm very familiar with the pros, so don't lecture me.)

We were at a work conference this week and one of my male co-workers (whom I've wrote about in the past, ahem, pesos jackass) described the her as "probably the girl in the office with the most sports knowledge." I've spoken with this male co-worker (who I'll refer to as Jackass Yankees Fan or JYF) on a few different occasions about baseball. JYF assumes I know nothing because a) I'm a "girl" and b) I'm not a JYF. Um, dude? MY team's 3 games out. Your team is in shambles. Let's talk next season, kay? He's never once brought up the subject of football or basketball or any other sport for that matter. He never even discussed the Olympics with me, which we all know I was all over.

So how does he know the new woman has the most sports know-how? It's obviously an unresearched statement, at best and a downright fabrication at worst.

I know it seems petty to obsess over something so slight but as any woman sports fan can tell you, random baseball and/or football conversations are few and far between, at least as compared to our male counterparts. Of course the bf and I can discuss until we're blue in the face (although his baseball knowledge, which he touted when we first started dating, is seriously lacking - is this what "fraud" means in those weirdo annulments?) but what about the watercooler? I keep up with a lot of the breaking sports news through my online connection to the world (i.e. my computer at work), and I can only call the bf randomly during the day so many times.

It's like JM and S (hello!), two of my very good friends who are dating. Neither JM (the man) nor S (the woman) are seriously into sports but S is very enthusiastic. And JM constantly makes fun of her for getting excited when we watch a sporting event together, which is completely odd to me because why wouldn't you get excited when someone's scoring a touchdown, swimming a race, hitting an ace, or knocking one out of the ballpark? If S were a guy (all oddities in the scenario removed of course), would JM make fun of her/him for being excited about sports even if he/she admitted he/she didn't watch all the time? Of course there's the whole bf/gf dynamic I'm overlooking but I'm trying to illustrate a point.

What this all comes down to is that I want to be the woman in the office (not the girl - I won't even get into the naked misogynist undertones of JYF referring to the new co-worker as a girl) who knows the most about sports. I'm willing to go head-to-head in a little sports trivia with the new co-worker to earn the title, although I'm not sure she'd be willing as she doesn't label herself as a sports afficiando, and hell, I'm willing to go head-to-head with the men in my office too. I bet a million dollars I'd be in the top 10%, especially if the trivia involved actual, present-day strategies, rules, regulations, players, etc. I love the sports trivia person who can name every Heisman trophy winner but can't tell me the ins and outs of small ball play. (I'm looking at you bf.)

On a related note, the 'Stros are 3 games out!! I will admit I had no confidence. I was wrong. Go Astros, Go!*

*I can only hope Ike doesn't ruin their winning streak since they have to postpone at least 2 games against the Cubs (who the swept last series) due to sheer freaks of nature. And for those that care, I doubt my town will even see a drop of rain, much like the great Rita Dustbowl of 2005. Although I am moving my new car in a parking garage tonight, just in case the trees of never-ending falling branches at my house decide to multiply, like they did a few months ago with the old car.

Friday, September 05, 2008


Once again I'm taking the cheap way out and posting something I saw on Jezebel. Too bad. It's damn funny.

Thursday, September 04, 2008

Wednesday, September 03, 2008

I'm offended.

By the moment in Palin's speech where she said that only one candidate has fought for "you." She paused strategically, of course, and then continued to say he was the only candidate who fought for you when the fight meant life and death.*

I'm offended.

I have a public service job and I'm offended by the notion that unless I put on a military uniform, I'm not fighting for the people.

I'm offended.

Obama worked in the trenches of one of the poorest areas in the country and to insinuate that he wasn't "fighting for America" is insulting to his work, those who do similar work, and those who are benefited by someone giving a rat's ass about them. And to further imply that someone in a socio-economically depressed environment isn't living in a life and death situation shows a fundamental disregard for both facts and human suffering, not to mention a complete lack of understanding of anything other than an upper, middle-class world.

I can tolerate a bit of dem/Obama jabbing at the RNC. I expect it. But to personally insult me, not just my candidate, and others like me sends me through the roof. I can assure you that it is not in my economic interest to do the work I do. I can also assure you that I made the decision to work for the public early on in my professional schooling. To insinuate that my contributions don't count, that I'm not "fighting" for my country (and the people within it) is something that goes beyond ignorance. It goes to the essence of understanding the world beyond you and why I'm a democrat without label and without hesitancy. Kindness and understanding are essential to my world view. Knowing that I'm not the only person in this world and that there are people who have much different experiences from me are what make up the basis of my decision to choose a political party that works for the poor, the under-represented, and the "fighters" of the world.

So fuck you, Palin. You may be one Sephora trip away from a pit bull but you're miles away from understanding what it means to be anyone other than yourself.

*I'd like to point out that if not for that comment, I wouldn't have a lot of negative things to say about her speech. I know what I'm getting into when I tune in to rabid Republicans, as they did a week ago.

Tom Ridge is a moron. Or is he?

I've searched and searched and searched and I cannot find any video evidence to document what I'm about to tell you but trust me when I say that I heard him (Tom Ridge) loud and clear.

I was watching the Republican National Convention last night when I saw Joe "I Swear I'm a Democrat Even Though None of Them Will Let Me Be One" Lieberman sell his soul to the devil. On an aside, I can tolerate JLie campaigning for McCain and touting his friend's accomplishments. I cannot tolerate him lying to people about Obama. Keep it to what you know, Joe, McCain's ass. (I tuned in 100% during the JLie speech because my man Gonzo lost to Roddick in the Open. It was over quite quickly and pathetically. Gonzo still looked good though. I be Chilean men really know how to woo American, slightly stalkerish, women.)

One of the MSNBC reporters, I think Andrea Mitchell, interviewed Tom Ridge after all the speeches were done. She was asking him about his take on Palin. I can't quote directly without a source, as I'm not that smart, but he basically said that Hillary voters, aka women, will vote for Palin because vaginas will vote for vaginas, regardless of policies.

I think this is what my friend B was trying to tell me when I was still in a sleep-deprived stupor Monday evening. Did McCain really pick Palin because he assumed we would all vote with our lady parts as opposed to our lady brains? I don't think many women who supported Hillary would support an anti-choice woman, regardless of her genitalia. Not to mention the fact that HRC was all about the semi-socialized healthcare and I have yet to meet a Republican who would support such things. (I'm sure they exist, I just don't know them.)

Back to my thesis: Is Tom Ridge a moron? Or is he a truth-teller? Or thirdly, does he have a case of sour grapes over not being chosen as the VP choice and attempting sabotage?

I guess only time will tell...

Monday, September 01, 2008

Sarah, Palin and Tall

Just a few, quick thoughts (keen insight to follow once my brain has recovered and I've become re-hydrated):

How hilarious is it that the "rumor" about this crazy christian, gun-toting ex-beauty queen is that her most recent kid is actually her 17 year-old daughter's kid and she's pretending it's hers? How very V.C. Andrews. How even more hilarious that she counters this rumor by saying her daughter is 5 months pregnant as we speak? As if that makes the likelihood of the above rumor lessened? But even if it's not true (and really the kid has Down's, which is much more likely to occur in older parents), how awesomely did the rumor mill work is terrible, black magic? "You will admit your failings as a parent Mrs. Palin, oh yes, you will." (so sayeth the black magic)

Brief text message conversation with my Repub friend at 8:00 a.m. Friday morning went something like this:

Me - NBC confirms the alaskan beauty queen.
Her - Woohoo! Change we can believe in.
Me - Change you can hang your tiara on.
Her - Not a beauty contest, a scholarship opportunity.

I later saw footage of Palin shooting an AK 47. I wonder what her talent was...

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

I'm off to holiday at the Cape.

Aren't you jealous of my poser self? I've never been to Cape Cod. Or anywhere on the East Coast other than NYC and DC, although I do firmly feel if I had to choose, I'd be an East Coast Woah-man. But you know, I'm landlocked currently. Unless I drive a couple of hours away that is. I digress.

I'm off to vacay and have a wonderfully long weekend with a bunch of excellent, intellectually stimulating women. (Actually I've never met most of them but whatever. It's best to start with bright expectations.) I'd be happy with a good joke and a free-flowing bottle of wine actually. I'm not terribly hard to please.

I'll be hitting up Provincetown and seeing the infamous Varla Jean (I hope I got that right) from the drag queen Project Runway ep. She was the winning model, at least in the sense that she was wearing the pink pantsuit that won. I'll also be stopping by the Marc Jacobs store because I'm a sucker for "special items" found only in-store. Plus there are no stores here in ATX.

I purchased some very naughty items for a certain lingerie shower that shall remain to-be bride nameless. I bought (don't read past here B if you've found the time in your busy schedule to actually read this dribble!) an awesome riding crop thing that makes me want to hit everyone I know. With the riding crop, that is. And only when I'm holding it in my hand. Which I haven't done so very often, really. I mean, it is at my house and all. And I wouldn't be a very good friend if I gave her faulty goods, would I? I should really make sure it works well...

I haven't used it any kind of dirty way, unless you count slapping the couch with it and telling Hillary to "get in line" right before she spoke last night at the DNC. But I don't count that. Speaking of HRC, sisterhood of the traveling pantsuits? How awesome was that line? When she started in on sisterhood, I was weary, when she got to traveling I was audibly groaning, waiting for the shitty punchline, but when she came to pantsuits, I laughed out loud at both myself for expecting the worst and HRC for making a funny.

I've always been a HRC fan. Until the last few months. And I'm pretty sure I'm no fan of Bill's anymore either. I defended his bad behavior when it was helping me but I'm pretty sure he's a big, fat asshole who can't keep it in his pants. I have enough ego to satisfy my entire world. I don't need it from him too. BUT. I fell in like with HRC all over again last night. It was if the prior devious and dirty months were erased. I didn't put on my pink, rosy glasses or anything and I'm still suspicious of motives, but she done good. Good job, Hills. You deserve the praise.

Long way of saying, I'll be out for a few days. Try not to cry and if the empty comment section is any indication, I'm sure all the varied and many people out there who read this blog (um rambling?) will manage just fine.

See you next fiscal year! (Oh my. Too nerdy?)

Monday, August 25, 2008

Ding dong, the Olympics are dead.

I love the Olympics as much as the next anti-nationalist gal. It's the only time I can truly get excited about the American flag, the national anthem, and random chants of "USA!" That said, I'm so glad they're over. Truthfully I'm so incredibly sleep-deprived from the event that I could be bordering on delirious. Last night was the first night I've slept more than 5 hours in over a week.

Here are some highlights/random thoughts about the whole experience:

1) Do Nastia Lukin's legs bend outward? (I got into a point and shout match with a couple of friends over this one. They couldn't see and everytime one of her legs bent inside out, I pointed and shouted, "See? Right there! Those should not be concave from that angle!" It was awesome.)

2) It's that damn Phelps squiggly kid again. I get he's got more medals than all the African countries put together but if a person has no knowledge base with which to compare the greatness of a mess of medals, does it really matter? Meaning - how the hell can so many freaking people give a rat's ass about this weirdo swimmer guy?

3) Except in the case of that amazing relay. That was straight up awesome.

4) I'm only a fan of basketball in All-Star game situations, i.e. the Redeem Team (dumb name though). And when I'm a fan I'm also suddenly an expert. It's only annoying to those people in the room who aren't me.

5) Gymnastics rules. Unless it's on a trampoline or uses a hula hoop. Then it's just dumb.

6) Speaking of gymnastics, how do those girls not have the worst shin splints in the world? Mysterious...

7) I'm secretly in love with Usain Bolt. He's too quick for me to catch up to him though. Get it? Quick? 'Cause he's, um, fast? Whatever. Nonetheless that dude seriously made the other runners look like they were mall walking. When he wasn't showboating and you could tell he was crazy nervous, he made me love him just a tiny bit more. USAin! What? It's similar.

8) What I wouldn't give to be a fly on one of the many walls at the Athlete's Village. Heard those folks got all kinds of busy.

9) How exactly do you break a sweat playing ping pong? And why isn't it called ping pong?

10) Way to make a girl feel old - change the rules to volleyball since she last played it (in junior high).

11) Why is beach volleyball an Olympic sport? I can't stand it on the beach and I especially can't fucking stand it on tv. Shoot me if I hear another commentator talk about hard it is to leap and jump from the sand. You know what would make leaping and jumping easier for you freaks? Being indoors on a real gym floor, that's what. Shut up.

12) Listening to boxing commentators is probably the most hilarious thing I've ever done (in the last 2-3 days). And I quote: "You better learn how to fight if your mom makes you wear a dress. Or run." But all in this slightly insane high-pitched Jersey accent. He was talking about a boy, in case you didn't put it together. It was damn funny.

Here's hoping the Dem Convention will be just as entertaining! MSNBC, here I come. Keith O better rule that jackass Chris Matthews or I'll be pissed.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

And then there was meat.

The meat story.

Guy called me at work seeking out some phone numbers and addresses. I went to a government agency's website and gave them to him (all stuff he could have done himself, which is not to say I wasn't happy to help but to signify how slight the help I gave him was).

A few days later an Admin walks in my office and tells me she has a package for me but can't open it and can she borrow my scissors? I hand them to her, she perches the package on the edge of my desk as she cuts into the the thing, starts to reach in the envelope, starts giggling (which made me look up from my oh-so-busy-and-time-consuming spreadsheet), and begins to pull out what I was certain was a ziploc bag full of black hair.

Upon further examination, which was difficult given that I'd slammed my chair (and myself) far across my office to get away from the bag of hair, we realized it was not hair but was, instead, some form of dried meat product.

My loud use of words and phrases (i.e. "what the fuck!" and "who the fuck sends shit like that in the mail?") attracted another co-worker to my office. When he realized it was a bag 'o meat, he reached his hand in, grabbed a hunk, tore into it like the savage beast (read: stupid) we all knew he was, and said "tasty" right before he walked back down the hall with the remaining hunk still clutched between his clammy, dumb hands. (Hands can be stupid - see: hands of a person who take random meat products out of unknown packages and feed them to said person's stupid mouth.)

There was a note inside that said the "meat" was homemade and thanks for helping aforementioned guy. But no notice as to what kind of meat product it was. The guy was from Arkansas and while I hate to be state-ist, who knows what they turn into edible products over there? Now I'm assuming it was a beef jerky of sorts but I have no way of knowing for sure.

Oh and did I mention that I don't eat beef? And just an fyi, although I wouldn't classify my job as dangerous, more than once my name or other people at my office's name has come up in correspondence to and from jail cells. Just saying.

Luckily the dumb co-worker didn't die. Luckily my office can't accept gifts. Luckily there's a homeless guy who hangs out right around the corner from my building. Luckily he was there, that fate meat day, and luckily he accepted my offer or dried meat product.

Long story short: grossest fucking day ever.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

How personal should a blog be?

I've debated how in-depth to go here, how much to share with complete strangers on the internet, and I've come to the conclusion that I'm just going to go there. I'm stripping away all the barriers of electronic media and feeding my ill-informed vanity even more by posting about my deepests and darkests. Here goes:

Today I found a 2" hair growing in the middle of my forehead. Technically it was slightly above my right eyebrow but completely disturbing nonetheless. It was blonde, had a bit of a wave or curl to it and it was freaking long! How have I missed that over the months that it's been growing? I mean, I'm not exactly a non-vain person. (Although I can't say I'm too concerned with physical appearance though, if my work attire/lack of make-up is any indication.) I have multiple mirrors in my house. There's the bathroom with two mirrors (already there when I moved in), the full-length mirror in the hallway, the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door (also there when I moved in and I never use it because my bedroom door is always open), the vanity in my bedroom, the large mirror in the entryway, and the wall of mirror tiles in the dining room (to make the space look larger and all). So it's not like I don't look at myself - critically even. So how did I miss a giant hair growing out of the middle of my forehead? It's a mystery.

So there, internet, you now know all about me. I'll expect gifts of tweezers in the mail after you google all my info (that you gleaned from my overshare in this post).

Oh and one more thing. A guy sent me meat in the mail at work today as a thank-you. I yelled "fuck" many times today at work as well. Possibly the two were related? A homeless guy on the corner has some good eatin' coming his way.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Perpetual Fear of Hair Death

Shannon mentioned in a comment how she thought I'd be able to understand, above all others, the sense of dread and fear that comes over a person when he or she finds out their beloved stylist is moving on to greener pastures, i.e. not somewhere they could follow, tail wagging pathetically.

And I do understand.

I had my hair styled and poofed and colored within an inch of its life last weekend. My stylist was very excited about some avant garde work she'd submitted for some industry award. She talked about how winning the award will put her work in every industry mag and possibly get her some crazy editorial content job for fashion mags and a whole host of other potential star-making endeavors that I tuned out.

I should have been happy for her. And at first I was. I should have been proud that MY stylist was so artsy and good and all that jazz. And at first I was. Until. Until it started to sink in that if she became all fancy and wanted and everything, she'd leave me. That's when the fear and slight waves of panic took me over. I guess that's what Brian Austin Green must have felt like when Megan Fox got her Transformers gig. Or whatever it was that she did first that made her a name. Happiness that leads to dread over the realization that the other person will eventually leave you? Worst. feeling. ever.

So Brian Austin Green - you can come sit with me. I'll understand. I might have roots down to my shoulders and split ends up my back, but damnit, I'll feel you.

Thursday, July 31, 2008

Review time...

Latest book read: House of Lights by Leah Cohen
Latest movie seen: The X-Files, something, something, something.

House of Lights was extraordinarily good. I don't use that word lightly (extraordinarily) either. It's not up there with "best book I ever read" kind of praise but it's definitely upper middle-class. It was so good I read it all in one sitting, which almost never happens. I started it, it got interesting, and when it was time to go to bed, I couldn't put it down. So I read on and on and on. And it made me cry, it made me laugh (not that it was a funny book), and it made me want to call my mom and listen to classical music. Oh and never marry a significantly older man, although that's another story, I'm sure. I found this book on one of the NYTimes greatest of the year lists and while I can't say it was "greatest list" worthy, as I haven't read all the books on the list, it didn't disappoint. Oh and fyi, it's about a 19 y.o. aspiring actress who contacts her estranged grandmother, who is a famous actress, to, ya know, cut through some of the red tape and what not. The grandmother is estranged because her mother doesn't talk to her, not because there's any history between the granddaughter and the grandmother.

X-Files was more than okay. I am not a fangirl or anything like that but I watched enough X-Files back in the day to like the show and hope for a better movie than the "other" one. The movie caught me off-guard with some romantic developments and while I was squealing (alone) in the audience, I kept looking around wondering if anyone else was as icked out/delighted as I was to see some of the scenes. I don't think they were. Weirdos. The movie also acted as a catalyst for a completely ridiculous fight between the bf and me re: whether X-Files was really about aliens or not. (I say not, he says yes. I'm totally right. It was about the unexplained, and sometimes that happened to be aliens but not most of the time and barely even some of the time.) If the show had been all about aliens, I probably wouldn't have watched it as much as I did. While I'm all into psychic unexplained phenomena, I'm less enthusiastic about the possibility of life outside of earth. I believe it could be and I believe there probably is other life out there, but I just. don't. care. I could not care less if there are little bacterias or amoebas out there waiting to grow up big and strong into dinosaurs or birds or pseudo-humans or whatever.

I'm off track. The movie was good and if you dig any X-Files epis at all, check it out. You won't be disappointed although you might be cold (there are a lot of snow-covered scenes in the movie). And did I mention I adore David Duchovny (Why don't you love me? - name that tune) and Amanda Peet (I know of no song that mentions her name).

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

It's 10 items OR LESS, lady.

It's my turn to buy the cupcakes/cookies/whatever for a birthday at work. Fine. I'll go to the store and run in quickly and get something. (Um, it's not actually my turn, to be fair, because I got some recently but there are a number of people at my office - generally the well paid few although not all - who refuse to ever buy anything for work bday parties. Assholes.) Anyway. I run in, grab two dozen cupcakes (so pretty! so bright!) a few cans of tuna (since I'm there, right?) and head to the express, express lane right by the produce at the front door. See there are regular express landes in the regular check-out section but this is the super express lane, because it's right by the prepared foods section. Most people run to that line when they have 1 - 3 items, maybe slightly more but rarely ever reaching even the 10 item pentacle that is the line's limit.

But not the lady in front of me. Here's how my line worked out: Lady 1, like 4 things, Boy - drink, and then Cat Food Lady. At first I thought she only had a basket because she had a watermelon in it, which makes total sense. Who wants to carry a watermelon around? (At least who wants to that's not named Baby?) But her big bosom and large old-lady purse hid the real culprits: bottles of substance (couldn't tell what it was) and cat food. I see her think hard, as if debating, as she stares at her basket. I think at first it's because she's got a big bag of regular potato chips in her cart that she should totally not be eating. (I could be projecting but whatev.) Now I think it's because she was counting her plentiful items and realizing that she was putting other customers (me!) out by making us wait on her grocery line-hijacking self.

Her items: bag of chips, watermelon, cantaloupe, about 5,000 bottles of unidentified substance, and approximately 20,000 cans of cat food. In case you can't add, that's more than 10.

The real crime was not all the many minutes it took for her to load up her purchases on the tiny, tiny conveyer belt (indicative of the "express" nature of the line) or the many environmentally unfriendly plastic bags the checker had to use to bag up her 25,000+ items or even the check she wrote (in arabic, apparently, since it took her so long to get the thing written). No. None of those was the real annoyance. The biggest crime she committed was using her big bosom (I'm being very nice here) and hiding the evidence of the crimes she planned on committed. As it was, when I made my decision to stand behind her, the only visible items were the melons and fat-inducing shards of lard (chips). The mystery bottles and cat food were hidden as her mighty, mighty chest fell over the entire front part of the shopping cart and hid what was buried beneath.

I seethed so much behind her and gave so many dirty looks (with many pointed gestures at the 10 items or less sign visibly displayed) that I kind of think she got my point, but it really wasn't enough. I really, really wanted to tap her on the shoulder, kindly point out the sign, and mention that if she has more items than that and is writing a check, she might be a little more considerate to her fellow shoppers and go to a regular line. But I didn't. *sigh* I couldn't bring myself to be that confrontational, even though it wasn't really a rude comment. It would have felt wrong to die by a mad cat woman suffocating the life out of me with her moutainous jugs while she jabbed me in the eye with her readily available check-writing pen. As such, I kept my mouth shut.

Is there a polite way to tell someone they have too many items for the express lane? I've occasionally gone to the 10 items line with 11-15 items, but I always ask the cashier if it's okay and never when it's busy or there's someone behind me - I let them know I have more than 10. But I've never gone to the super-express line and expected to get away with such insolent behavior.

Oh and by the way lady, your cat's teeth are going to fall out from all that soft food. I hope you're happy.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

I think this is called tagging?

She named me - is that the official tag? I'm new to all of this stuff. If so, here goes. If not, oh well. I haven't done a survey since my rabid myspace days. Thanks to Blondie for the... tag? She's on my blogroll so you probably have but if you haven't, read her blog. It's definitely read-at-work worthy.

1. What are the last three things you purchased?
I won't list groceries and my amazing good deal on Electrasol thingees at Target because that's boring, right? I bought an Astros hat at Walmart Saturday morning. I am usually anti-Walmart, and it's on my "boycott when convenient" list (along with Target pharmacies, Exxon, and beef products). But the bf wanted to look at Star Wars toys (please, please don't ask), and we were in hostile country (Clear Lake) where the only thing resembling Target was Walmart. So we went and since I wanted a hat to wear to the Astros game that night, I bought it. It was only $12 too! I now know what anti-union, anti-American smells like. It smells like the cheap, cheap price of $11.99, and I have to say I liked it. Let's see. I also bought some ear buds (with bling on them!) in the clearance section at Target over the weekend and 2 UT Longhorn shirts at Kohls. I don't support buying your own school's memorabilia like that (I'm weird, I know), but I'm going to Cape Cod over Labor Day and figured I could get away with wearing them there.

2. What are the last thee songs you downloaded?
Ha! Three songs from the Newsies soundtrack. A Christian Bale post on Jezebel last week got me all Newsied-up and since my soundtrack got stolen a billion years ago, I downloaded what I could find of the record. I love that movie.

3. Where were the last three places you visited?
Nasa (to take a special behind-the-scenes tour), Moody Gardens (where we snuck into the Titanic exhibit - boring - so glad we didn't pay), and Minute Maid Field (see previous post). It was an extension of the staycation where we traveled far and away (Houston) to visit all the lame touristy places we never bothered to go to when we (I) lived there.

4. What are your three favorite movies?
Only 3? I'm counting series as 1 movie - Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, and Goonies. (I could have easily listed the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice, Legally Blonde, and Bridget Jones' Diary but I was going with my nerdy list this time.) See what I did there? I disposed of the 3 requirement with a parenthetical reference. Pure genius.

5. What are your three favorite possessions?
My computer - silly but true
My pearl necklace - I won't label whore but they're very nice and were a gift
My flute
My blanket that my grandmother gave to me made by my great-grandmother of my great-aunt's curtains. Got all that?
My silver ring from Tiffany's (I bought it for myself with my own money at the Tiffany's on 5th Ave after I graduated law school - it's very symbolic to me even though it's not the huge endeavor now that it was then)
I'm obviously ignoring the rules of this survey.

6. What three things can you not live without?
Diet coke
The internet
ghost shows on A&E

7. What would be your three wishes?
Jump out of a plane (doing it for my 30th bday this year)
spend time in Paris (hopefully going next year)
own a house in Hyde Park that I could afford (meaning I'd have more money, not that there would be a house that would be in my current budget)

8. What are three things you have not done yet?
Isn't this the same question as the one above?
jumped out of a plane
been to Paris
been to Turkey, Russia, Japan, Hawaii, and many, many other places

9. What are your three favorite dishes?
vietnamese spring rolls - good ones
unagi (eel) rolls - any kind will do as long as there are no sauces on it
my mom's mac 'n cheese - freaking amazing

10. What three celebrities would you want to hang out with the most?
Kathy Griffin
Lauren Graham
Jon Stewart

11. Name three things that freak you out.
cruise ships
plants that move towards the sun (like ivys and vines) *shudder*

12. If you could describe yourself in three words, what would they be?

13. Name three unusual things you are good at.
counting things
playing the flute
thinking shit up

14. What are three things you are currently coveting?
a fabulous purse (i'm shallow, i'll admit it)
new bedstuffs
someone to buy me xm radio because i can't justify spending the $$$ on something that's supposed to be free - radio (but all the sports channels!! I never have to search for a game again!)

15. What three bloggers would you like tag?
I'm not sure who has already been tagged (besides Blondie and Rana and Lauren) so I'll go with:
Squishy over at BoredSquishy
CK at DisplacedUrbanite
and MaterialLust

To endcap my previous post...

A Little Texas Sports Love

I have three things to glow about today, at least with regards to Texas and her illustrious sports teams.

1) I was in Houston over the weekend and I had dinner at Yao's. (For those of you that don't know, Yao's is Yao Ming's family restaurant.) It was surprisingly good and very light on the sports decor. We sat in the bar area so we could watch the Astros game and it was a really nice evening. The bar area is not like most restaurant/bars. It was big, decorated well, had these comfy round booth things, loads of non-beer soaked tables, and at least when we were there, wasn't crowded with drunkies. The food was good too. I was pretty impressed with the whole thing, to be honest. I never expected it to be anything but a Chinese version of Dave and Buster's. But since we were in town and staying so close to the area where his restaurant was, we decided to check it out. I give it two chopsticks up.

2) I also attended to Astros vs. Cubs game Saturday night. It was the best game I've ever been to. I had the awesome seats (right below the press box, just behind homeplate) and the Astros pulled it out inning after inning. Wandy? You're alright, man. I won't discuss how the series ended - I was hoping for a sweep - but for one, brief moment in time I caught a glimpse of the team I've grown to love over the last few years. It was a nice endcap to my extraordinarily nice weekend.

3) I love T.O. I will say it proud(ly) and say it loud(ly). I love him. Remember that scene from Jerry McGuire when Renee Zellwegger's character is gushing to her sister about how much she loves Tom Cruise's character in the morning, post-sex? And he accidentally overhears her? That's me with T.O. I can't comment too much on his behavior with the Eagles because I didn't have the love that I have now. I do believe that the media loves to have a story and will make one up if they have to (not saying they did but it's the whole Barry Bonds = steroids phenomena - get over it already). To justify my love for the man (or the boy as he is in my head - aside: he reminds me of my nephew; can't say why or how but something about his face gets me right there, man), I present you with this article: It's not sporty, so click on. Moral of the story: he's awesome.

He deserves a beautiful picture so I'm posting one for all to enjoy. Oh, and did I mention he's quite the snappy dresser? And funny? Dude's hilarious. Wearing the U.S. Postal Team outfit when he had to ride the exercise bike on the sidelines? Guffaw-worthy.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Speaking of renewable resources...

If someone could figure out a way to turn human hair into an energy product, I could fuel the earth for centuries.

That's a fancy way of saying that I shed a lot hair. A lot. There are long, blonde hairs all over my work building and home. And last night they were all over my pilates mat, thanks to an inefficient hair tieback.

I haven't seen any sign of baldness so I'm guessing my hair officiall counts as a renewable resource. I command thy scientists to get on it!

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Sleep is a luxury.

I've been living on a lack of sleep for the past few weeks. At first I really felt it. You know, tired all the time, sleepy, etc. Now I barely notice. Getting 2 or 4 hours of sleep doesn't phase me at all anymore. One day this week I went to bed at 3 a.m., the next at 5 a.m., and last night, at about 1:30 a.m. (damn All Star game!) I decided to take an Excedrin PM since I was in no way tired.

Turns out that shit makes you weepy tired and then keeps you up all night hearing things. (I'm not at all about to admit it was possibly all the ghost shows I've been watching or the ants in my bathroom that made me soul-jarringly awake when I heard weird noises last night. It must have been the meds.) As a result I saw, or rather listened with eyes tightly shut, Sports Center about 5,000 times last night. I had to turn on the tv to shut out all the craziness in my head/ears.

To the delight of Regis' red pants on Regis & Kelly, I came in late to work today. Oops. Apparently Excedrin PM works much like my own sleep cycle - stay up all night only to really, really kick in about 7 a.m. Perhaps sleep is a defense mechanism for me, like my body is trying to tell me that the night is a good time - let's play! - but the morning is sleepy time, so don't you dare go to work, it's sleepy, sleepy time.

Luckily I'll be here until the cows come home (what time is that, exactly?), so it doesn't matter. I should really just get a night job.

Monday, July 14, 2008

Not that there's anything wrong with that...

I've never dug the whole borderline homophobic Seinfeld episode where they harp on gay people and clean it all up with "not that there's anything wrong with that." The simple act of implying that there could be something "wrong" with being gay, although Seinfeld and his posse were way too cool to think such things (obviated by the constant need to defend their words and/or actions), always seemed to me to be more than a little offensive and hypocritical. It's like having a discussion about gay public affairs, current events, hell, even clubs or people you know but making sure to state that you (or me or them or whomever) are not gay. It's the guy who talks about going to a gay club one weekend but stressing how awkward he felt having guys hit on him. Or the girl who talks about girl-on-girl sex but follows it up with an explanation about how sexuality is more fluid with women, so same sex exploits don't equate with lesbianism.

All of this is a long way of saying that the above picture sucks. I like satire. I appreciate satire. I even love a good French farce (and don't lecture me on the difference between satire and farce - I know). But this? is not cool. The thing is that it's mainly not cool because it came from the New Yorker. I know this expectation of liberal open-mindedness from a pseudo-intelligensia magazine exposes some of my baser assumptions about media, and I guess that's the talking point to take away from all of this. I think racism is a real issue. I think we all have to constantly question our assumptions and thoughts about what is and is not okay about the way we think and portray ourselves (i.e. our externalization of our internal mechanisms).

I guess the moral of the story is that just because you consider yourself liberal, open-minded, non-racist (or non homophobic in Seinfeld's case) doesn't mean that a) you actually are (at least not always) and b) you get to be above reproach because you no longer clutch your purse tighter when a black man walks beside you.

And sometimes the response to the initial negative thing (the New Yorker says it's satiring all the misinformation out there) only creates a second, independent negative thing. But, like the editor from the New Yorker said on Morning Joe this morning, they totally didn't mean it that way. So you dumbasses out there who are offended, you're obviously not intelligent enough to read our magazine anyway. With that reassurance I guess we can all go back to reading our fancy media publications, drinking our lattes, and watching our Seinfeld re-runs. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Friday, July 11, 2008

Pet Peeves, Issue #435,598

Pet Peeve: Guys who think they know better than girls because the topic is a "guy" type of topic, or better yet, because they have a penis.

Scenario: I'm in the elevator at work when two of my guy co-workers jump in. We all say hello, exchange pleasantries, etc. They continue on with their conversation re: money in Mexico (for one of the guy's upcoming vacation). I jump in the coversation - and while I'll admit that maybe is a bit impolite, these are two coworkers I'm very comfortable with and have lunch with - and mention that the dollar goes over better than the peso in Mexico in most places. Jackass coworker #1 says that if you throw a 10 peso at a person for a tip, they'll flip out and give you the best service ever. I laughed out loud and said that I was certain he'd get a better response from people if he tipped with dollars or at least more pesos than that. (I mean 10? Hello? That's $1.) They both looked at me and jackass #1 said "just give them a 10 peso," in a manner that strongly suggested I did not know of which I was speaking. And then they promptly went back to talking and completely ignored me the rest of the elevator ride and the walk through our floor as we were all going back to our offices.

I am a bit beyond pissed. In my grand, old age I'm beginning to have less desire to rein in my anger than perhaps I did when I used to run into situations like this frequently: in law school. In law school I would be so taken aback by such blatant behavior that I'd spend my time shocked that the situation was occuring. Then I learned to stop being shocked by bad behavior because it was inhibiting my ability to react. That's not to say I did anything more in this particular elevator. I didn't. I stood quietly as my opinions were derided because I was a girl and therefore couldn't possibly know anything about money. (Did I mention we work in a finance-related field?) Hence the livid anger. But! I was not shocked at the behavior and I knew exactly what was happening as it happened.

And don't worry. I'll have my revenge. I'm completely vindictive and passive-aggressive at work (when I'm not being aggressive-aggressive), and Jackass #1 will pay, most likely in a large group of our peers. The best payback is public payback.

Oh and again - hello? Do you know anyone, Mexico or not, that would bend over backwards for you for a $1 tip? I don't think so. It's not like they have no concept of money in Mexico. They know very well how much a $1 is. And they especially know how little 10 pesos are. So give me a goddamned break, jackass coworker #1.

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

I have blood underneath my fingernails.


But really it's my own fault. My boss was getting so excited (i.e. annoying) about a case that I got completely frustrated and took it out on a tiny, little, head itch. The least he could have done was leave me be so I could express my disgruntledness (word?) verbally but no. He had to stick around and make sure I thoroughly agreed with and enjoyed his excitement. As a result I have a self-inflicted injury. And I couldn't even yelp out loud when I did it because I was still in his presence. How do you tell someone you just scratched your head so hard that there's a high (although temporary) level of pain and blood? It just doesn't come out right.

On a different note, squishy and I are tied 1 to 1 in the epic battle of subpar baseball team series. And I'd still like to point out, even though the 'Stros played the Red Sox last weekend (and creamed 'em!), we still never made it to the front page of any non-local sports headline site, i.e. or or or any other one you can think of.

Tuesday, July 01, 2008

It's official.

I'm sending in an application for "Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?" And to prove I am not, I even had to look up the title of the gameshow to determine if "than" should be capitalized or not. Turns out I was right but I didn't know for sure. See, here's the thing. I could really use $25,000. I can think of no side job that would afford me that kind of cash, or at least I can think of no side job that I would do that would afford me that kind of cash. As I don't see any dying relatives in my future - or I should say any dying relatives who would a) have money and b) leave it to me - I've convinced myself a gameshow is the way to go.

I've thought about all the usual suspects: Millionaire & Jeopardy - not smart enough. That Truth show - not dumb enough. All the other gameshows are action oriented (i.e. dancing, singing, having a talent of some kind, trying to lure a man, staying alive for 6 weeks with a bunch of crazy people on an island, running a very physical race, etc., etc., etc.). So that leaves me with the 5th Grader show. I'll admit that I find Jeff Foxworthy's humor kind of hilarious, because I'm 10, although I haven't seen the show that many times. Maybe like 5 times altogether? But I think that's enough.

My only concern is that they'll be scared away by my advanced degree, but they really shouldn't be. In the few times I've seen the shows, I'm 50/50 (at best) on the questions. I did recently get a 3rd grade (I think) animal science question right about a woodpecker not pecking for wood but rather for insects underneath the wood. To be fair it was a T/F and I happen to know that most birdshit doesn't contain wood particles (if the exterior of my car is any indication). Really it was an educated guess not based on any actual knowledge to speak of.

The application is actually kind of involved. They want to know if you have a myspace "or similar" account. I don't think I should admit such things because what if they read something and (assuming I get chosen) say it out loud on the air for my mommy to hear? So maybe I'll say no to that one.

Another question asks: Even though it's not true, people always assume about me:

Um, how the hell should I know? One asshole at work once said he assumed I liked Britney Spears' music (back when it was very uncool to like BS), but I can't imagine very many people would assume such things about me, especially given my proclivity to give off the air of "music snob" even though I don't know shit.

Question: something about biggest risks I've taken. I definitely know I don't want to answer that one truthfully. Ouch. What's a good answer for that? Going all in at the final table of the 2005 World Series of Poker? Do you think they'd research that to see if it was true?

And shit. It wants to know if I have any surprising talents or tricks. If I did I'd be on that other gameshow with the Osborne chick.

This ones funny: "What type of organizations do you belong to? (Mensa, etc...)" hahaha! I was a member of Junior Mensa. Or at least my mom bought me a Junior Mensa puzzle game book. Does that count? (My mom's fascination with completely odd logic puzzles is almost the entire reason for my better than mediocre LSAT score.)

And finally it asks if I know anyone who graduated from an Ivy League school in the LA area? That's a bad sentence because if I didn't know better, I'd be confused as to whether they meant someone who lives in LA who went to an Ivy League school or someone who graduated from an LA Ivy League school. Luckily I know what they mean and I'm slightly insulted. Are they using my application to try and recruit smarter people to their show? Seriously uncool.

Oh and they want my SAT scores. I think I can definitely lie on those. But should I lie higher or lower? I can't tell what the purpose of this application is! Should I appear smarter or dumber than I really am? Because obviously the truth would never work.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Driving a Prius - for 2 days

I'm officially done with the Prius. I turned it back in to the rental car place.* I've learned I'm not a Prius person. I used to think I was one but I'm not. I never got used to pushing a button to turn the car on, to shifting gears at face level, to pushing the car, via button, into park, to feeling the shuddering as the engine switched randomly back and forth from electric to gas motor, and I never got used to the fleeting feeling of panic anytime I wanted to change the a/c temp or change the radio station (because it was in some weird computer screen form, you see). I also managed to turn the Prius into a gas guzzler, at least by Prius standards. When I got the car it was doing about 44 mpg - not bad. As I drove it along, I managed to hit the high, high average of 35 to 37. I'm not saying that's a bad mpg, that's great. But for a Prius? Not so much. And I have no clue how I did it. I blame it on the air conditioning. I don't think hybrid cars are made to sit in traffic in the Texas heat, especially on 100+ degrees days. Oh and the really loud beeping that filled the car everytime I used the knob to put the car in reverse? Terribly annoying.

All that said, I did feel a certain smugness at times, like squishy suggested. I think the Prius gives you a superiority complex on the road, like you know all those other cars are burning through their fuel while you're obsessing about battery power. It's like an immediate "I break for lower dependence on foreign oil sources" bumper sticker. It's pretty much like the feeling you get when you send out charity cards at xmas time (i.e. the local food bank xmas cards saying a donation was made in your name, etc., etc., etc.). Wait. It's even better than that. It's more like wearing an "I Voted" sticker while handing out food to the homeless, all while you're volunteering at a big brothers/big sisters event. Yeah, it's more like that.

Don't everyone go buy a Prius now. Toyota car salespeople are already too smug. If I see another one on CNN talking about waiting lists, I just might hurl. Car salespeople are made to be despised and unhappy, not satiated and content. The two just don't mesh. Go buy a truck. Those guys are definitely frustrated and angry. I bet you'll get a better deal too.

*The rental car place is in a nearby hotel and I went to return the car in my pilates outfit as I was about to go to pilates. The hotel was apparently hosting some kind of golfers/drunkard convention and - I'm guessing for shits and giggles - the hotel blocked off all of my normal exits with huge black curtains. As a result I began to frantically pull back tall pieces of fabric in an insane attempt to flee the middle-aged men and frosted women, an attempt in which I was unsuccessful. I ended up scaling the perimeters of the hotel lobby and finding myself in some kind of alley where cars were entering and exiting at great speeds. I didn't care. At least I was out. Lesson of the week: avoid hotel lobbies in downtown areas in the middle of the week. It's a carnival, i.e. where all the carnies (freaks aka middle-aged men and divorcees) hang out.

Monday, June 23, 2008

I'm sad and random dribble about vehicles.

My new car? Stopped working yesterday for a brief period of time. Apparently it's a battery issue, although all the lights still worked and it's working now. But really. How much is it to ask for a car that doesn't break down every five seconds? I thought shelling out my spending money each month (i.e. shopping now = car payment) would solve the problem but I guess not.

And now I'm driving a Prius rental car (for work, not because of my car) and it's plain 'old weird. I couldn't figure out how to control anything for the first 10 minutes or so (a/c, radio, rear windshield wiper, etc.). Finally, after changing the language on the computer screen thing to French I realized all the controls were on the steering wheel. While it's convenient for the driver, the passenger has no control whatsoever, which I don't like. Not because I want my passengers to have control over temperature or radio controls but because I like to have control over those things when I'm a passenger. I'm totally one of those people who changes your radio station and points all the air on you, the driver. But if any of my friends drive a Prius, I'm shit out of luck.

I really like riding in my mom's car, for instance, because it has a seat warmer. Sometimes I have to vacate my seat for my grandmother and she gets all freaked out because her ass is hot. She always thinks the car is about to explode or she's having some kind of butt attack. I, in the backseat, giggle uncontrollably like a 4 year-old kid. I do love seat warmers.

Friday, June 20, 2008

Explain god's people to me.

How can a person (or people) go around quoting scripture and be WWJD all over the place and still get the big stuff so fucking wrong?

I'm not into god or all that spirituality stuff (although if I keep getting scared by ghost shows I might have to revisit some things), but I'm down with Jesus.* He was a cool enough guy I guess. Or, at least, the version people created was cool enough. So why do certain people spend their lives memorizing bible verses, decorating their houses with crosses, making cookies for church groups, and all that good "christian" stuff but still not get what the whole thing is about?

Here's what I have to say about it all: I'm rubber and you're glue. Whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you. Bastard.**

*I'm referring to Christian gods in this post because I'm specifically referring to Christians. I'm down with some of the other dieties as well.

**I can't say all the details I really want to say because there's a very slight chance someone might read this. And although I'm right about the thing I'm right about, I'm nice enough to not destroy certain people over it.

Since I need it and this is a horrible post to end the week on:

You're welcome.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

I see dead people.

So. I don't believe in ghosts. I don't not believe in ghosts. I've gone on "haunted" tours, I've taken pictures and seen the little boy in the window, I've seen the "spots," and none of those things has convinced me one way or the other. But then I started watching Paranormal State and Psychic Kids on A&E. And, umm, that shit freaks me the fuck out! There, I've said it. I'm now officially afraid of the dark.

I found Paranormal State on my A&E On Demand last night. Who knew they even had A&E on demand? Anyway. I watched 3 episodes in a row and there was a whole thing about how you weren't supposed to say this demon's name out loud. It sounds silly and truthfully it probably was but all last night? I had dreams that people kept trying to say this devil person's name out loud and if they did it would come get me. For someone who doesn't believe in god, much less the devil, this makes no sense. Logical? No. Terrifying? Yes.

Here's a clip from one of the shows I saw involving the "demon," if you will:

Now let us move on to Psychic Kids. I have no clue if mediums or psychics really exist. I'm neither. At least I hope not, because if I am some demon is coming to visit me. *shudder* I watched what I think was the first (or second?) episode the other night. One girl was 8 and her name was Faith. She was haunted by a little boy named Freddie (dead) and his mean mother Catherine (also dead). This girl gave exact dates as to when they died (1880s I think?), how, where, the exact spelling of their names, etc. The crack research team at Psychic Kids found some census information that basically proved the 8 year-old was talking about people that actually existed at one time. I'm not saying it was a hoax but if that 8 year-old girl is faking, she's a lot smarter than I was at that age.

And then there was JoAnn (I think?). She was 12 and dreamed about the meeting place where the show was taking all the psychic kids. And guess what? The drawing of the place she dreamed about? Was almost an exact replica of where they went. And it wasn't just a normal house or something. It was this old timey shop thing that looked nothing like the rest of the town they were in (where she'd never been before, at least according to the show).

Finally there was a 3rd girl who was 11ish. She wasn't nearly as interesting as the other two because she could just read people's auras and predict their death. Whatevs.

Here's a clip fo these kids and I think I got the part where the girl dreams about the place they're going to:

I'm back to my original point. I don't know if ghosts are real or not but a) shows about them are freaking scary and b) I'm beginning to have dreams about ghost shows*.

*Secret confession: I'm only slightly afraid that if I think about ghosts too much I'll become one of those people who can see them and then I'll have to think they're real and I'll be haunted. Not cool, man.

Monday, June 16, 2008

It was a very bad week...

I almost broke up with my boyfriend.

I almost disowned my parents and severed our relationship.

I almost crashed my car, potentially fatally, to collect the insurance money.

I almost got fired due to fits of hysteria and excessive mental absences.

I almost lost a limb.

I almost shed a tear several times.

But now it's over. And here is both the cause (partially) and the salvation of my bad, horrible, no-good week:

Hyundai Elantra - only mine's in black pearl (sparkly black to be exact)

It's nothing fancy but it's new and it's mine! And I put enough of a down payment down that my monthly budget will not be altered significantly. It has new car smell and I only slightly feel like I'm driving in a clown car, which, given that my previous vehicle felt something like a coffin (a fact I enjoyed immensely but apparently was not popular with the passengers), is no small feat.

I feel very sad about losing my old car. It was 8 years old and a gift from my dad for graduating college. It was an old school sports car, to say the very least, and I miss the way the engine would roar when I just slightly pushed the gas peddle. I also miss my beautiful dings and scratches that meant I could attempt to fit my car in any parking spot available (instead of searching for the farthest spot with no chance of door dings like I have to do now). I miss the rows of bumper stickers (all political) that I'd decided my car needed, what with the aforementioned dings and scratches. I miss the Care Bear (Good Luck Bear!) smelly thing that hung from the rearview mirror. I miss the longhorn sticker that looked at me every time I looked out the back window. I miss the way I could throw a napkin in the back seat and not worry about trashing my new car. I miss how none of the windows never got one, tiny crack in them even though rocks were always bouncing off of them. *tear*

I do not miss the driver's side window that would not roll down. I do not miss the way the gas gauge moved at will from E to F with no bearing to the amount of gas in the tank. I do not miss the way the speakers crackled if I turned up the volume just slightly. I do not miss the bruises I got on my arms (and the cuts on my hands) from trying to change the spark plug wireset, which I never managed to change. I do not miss the weird smell of mildew that seemed to take over when it rained, which wasn't a huge problem because it hardly rains here in Texas. I do not miss the huge dent on the passenger side door from when I accidentally ran into my apartment building. I don't miss the scratches on the driver's side door where G tried to scrape off ice even though I told him not to.

But you know, it's really the little things that make owning a non-crappy car nice. (My car was not originally crappy but after 8 years, although it hurts me to say it, it was pretty crappy.) I went to the drive through bank Friday and was so excited that I called my mom. We both cheered. It was a good feeling.

Oh and did I mention I made a kick ass deal for the new car? I did all my research and ended up paying about $400 over invoice price. I'll accept accolades, statues, and national holidays in my name, thank you.

Friday, June 06, 2008

Book reviews

I've read a few books lately and I have no one to talk to about them so I'm going to review them here. They were all good, so I guess it's not so much a review as a description.

Chasing Harry Winston by Lauren Weisberger - this was a good chicklit book. I went to her book signing/reading and almost finished the book the same night. It was entertaining, engrossing, and I didn't feel dumber and/or lamer for having read it. What more can you ask for from chicklit?

The Lady Elizabeth by Alison Weir
Good historical fiction. Alison Weir is a great non-fiction writer. She writes mainly British royal family non-fic but it's superb. This is her second fiction attempt and it's pretty good as well. There are a couple of sexy spots but I think that's to be expected. Because she's researched Elizabeth so much, she really brings a lot of authenticity to the work. You can read this and not feel like you're being sucked in by a sketchy basis in fact, at best, like The Other Boelyn Girl.

Eleanor of Aquitane by Alison Weir
This is a non-fiction book and if you're at all interested in Richard the Lionheart, British royal history, the Crusades, etc., you should read this book. I didn't really know who she was, to be honest, before I found her on wikipedia on one of my wild "I have to know more on this subject right now!" clicking frenzies, but I think she could be one of my new feminist icons. She's awesome. She was married to the French king, had a couple of furture queens, divorced him, married the English king, had a few more future kings and queens, planned a coup, went to prison, ruled through her sons, and all the while managed to maintain control of her own lands (most of present day France) as their pseudo-queen. And, like I said above, Alison Weir writes great non-fiction. She really keeps you engrossed in everything that's happening. It doesn't feel like non-fiction at all.

Shortcomings by Adrian Tomine
I've never been huge into graphic novels mainly because I don't know that much about them and not many of my friends read them. But this one was excellent. It's brief, which I liked for my first graphic novel try, and the story, although in cartoon form, is really believable. I read it shortly after I read one of Margaret Cho's books, and they both gave me a bit of insight into the modern, Asian-American culture. If you don't read any of the others one I suggest, read this one. I found this one on the NYTimes 100 best of 2007 list.

On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan
I think this is actually a novella, although I didn't count the pages or anything to be sure. I read Atonement along with the rest of America and I have to say I'm not the biggest McEwan fan. I'm not really sure why I picked this book up except that I'd read it on the NYTimes list as well. I'm glad I did. I honestly didn't think I was going to get a chance to read it before it was due back at the library, but I jumped at it on my lunch break the day it was due and finished it in an hour or so. I skipped a tiny bit (due to time) and if you read it you'll see where, but all in all, it was wonderful. I mean, it was horrible, the story, but the book was wonderful. I zoomed over to the McEwan website afterwards to see what others were saying about the book. I can't say much without giving it away but there are some subtleties in the story that are left to your imagination to determine if they actually happened. I was happy to find out I was right about most things and I learned a few more from other readers on that site. I guess it's been on several book club reading lists or something? I don't know but it's definitely one of those that leave you thinking when you put it down.

I have another stack of books I'm making my way through right now and I'm sure belabor the point and write more about them when I'm done. I'm a total spurt reader. I either read nothing or read everything I can get my hands on. Right now I'm reading - maybe it's the lack of good tv? Gossip Girl does make my brain a little numb...

Wednesday, June 04, 2008

Why am I horrible?

I just had a conversation with the bf. I told him J was in FL today on vacay. They flew out this morning and I said, "I haven't heard about any plane crashes, so I guess they made it okay." He told me it was horrible for me to say that and that I was horrible for saying that. Why? He couldn't/wouldn't explain and quickly got off the phone with me after saying if I didn't understand why it was horrible then he wouldn't be able to explain it to me.

So why is what I said so horrible? I find it relieving to know that if a plane crashes or if some dastardly event occurs, I'll know about it on the news practically instantaneously. Conversely, if I don't hear of such things I know everything is a-okay. I don't believe in fate so I don't feel like I'm tempting fate by saying such things so what is it? Doesn't every feel a bit of relief when a close friend/relative is traveling somewhere and you haven't heard of a plane crash happening when they were in the air? Am I really the only one who thinks like this? And does it make me horrible to say it out loud?

Blech. Now I'm confused...

Tuesday, June 03, 2008

SATC - The Movie

I saw SATC Saturday night. It was a fun girls' night out. (I know people are making fun of those of us who used a movie about sex and overly priced consumer goods as an excuse for a girls' night but I say fuck off to those people. It was fun and I enjoyed it.)

We got dressed up to go to a semi-fancy restaurant and wine bar. We spiced up our wardrobe a tad in a nod to SATC itself, but mainly we dressed up for the dinner and bar portion of the evening. Except for J. She wore "beach-ware," as she described it. I did find a home for my beautiful Arden B shirt that is too small for my boobs and that I waited to long to take back. My friend L was wearing a similar color and it looked amazing on her. So she gets my beautiful, ruffly, sparkly, cleavage-creating shirt. I hope her bf appreciates it.

I wore a pretty, blue-green, vintage dress I got in NYC last summer (or was it the summer before?) and a pair of awesome, yellow wedges from Target. I put on extra eyeliner and earrings I normally don't wear because they're slightly heavy, and I'm terrified I'm going to have droopy earlobes when I get old. And, to top it all off, I wore my huge cocktail ring to show that I meant business (i.e. having fun with my girls and drinking as much as I wanted).

I'm here to defend SATC and my money-spending ladies on two fronts:

1) SATC was not a horrible movie like a lot of reviews are making it out to be. Yes there was consumerism and yes they made questionable choices in story-telling, but all in all, I really liked the female friendships in the film, which is what I think the show was always all about, no matter how many times Samantha sexed, Charlotte married, Miranda bitched, or Carrie pouted. In that regard, it did its job. I even cried a bit. (I mostly kept it in check and hid my face though, because I didn't want to get skewered by my ladies. They're very quick to point out my emotional neediness when it rears its ugly head - probably because I reap what I sew but that's another story.)

2) Women have just as much say over what movie will do well opening weekend as men, if not more so. I will occasionally see a movie I'm not terribly jazzed about with the bf, but I'm much more likely to put the kabosh on a film than he is. For Matt Lauer to get on the Today Show and talk about how men must have wanted to see SATC after all (since it topped the box office) is ignorant and slightly degrading. Women see movies by themselves. Women see movies with their girlfriends. Women make decisions about what movies to see with their significant others/guy friends. Women make enough money to buy their own movie ticket. Women make up more than 50% of the population of the U.S. Women watch god damned movies and are a fucking voice in this economy, okay? Okay. Perhaps one day when women are in charge of the movie companies, some of this dismissive attitude will change. Until then, suck it movie execs. You do me no favors.

*breathes in and out, in and out*

Oh and my tiny secret? I've always secretly hated Manolos. I think they look too old and frumpy for my tastes. I know that's not a popular opinion but I've yet to run into a pair that I thought was worth all the hype and/or money. And they're not well made. (This is not my opinion of all designer shoes, just MB in particular.)

Thursday, May 29, 2008

I'm sad.

I have to return Freaks and Geeks to the library. *sniffle*

On the upside, my bf offered to buy me a Wii yesterday. How awesome is that? Know what's not so awesome? My damn pride and inability to let people buy me things without me buying them things in return. So I said no.

But secretly? I really want a Wii so I can play rock band in my living room to my heart's content - by myself. And play all the Mario games. Now I'm sad and lame. Nice.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

I hate hot holidays.

I do. It's true. Memorial Day? Blows. 4th of July? Sucks ass. Labor Day? Slightly better than stepping in fresh dog doo.

It's not that I mind the sentiment behind the days. I'm all for memorliazing, celebrating independence, and the like, but why the hell do they have to be in the middle of the summer when it's so freaking' hot? This country is built around outdoor vacationing. Grand canyon? Outdoors. BBQs? Outdoors. Fireworks? Again, outdoors. These outdoor loving holidayers (is that a word?) have never had to holiday outdoors in Texas. Because it's hot. And when I say hot, I mean an Inferno type of hot. It was 98+ the entire weekend with like 1000% humidity. I don't know about anyone else but that equates horror to me - uncomfortable horror at that.

Mind you I didn't do the typical outdoor activities mentioned above for Memorial Day, but I did participate in the normal holiday hubris - sale shopping. And it was hot. Did I mention that? Did I also mention I have a black car that traps heat like a coffin? (Or what I'd imagine a coffin to trap heat like anyway.) Everywhere I went was hot. It was disgusting. It was so disgusting that I couldn't bring myself to hit Sephora, which is a thing unheard of in my world. I was tempted to go to the movies by myself during the day on Monday because it was so disgustingly hot. I figured the movie theatre would be cool and dark.. and cool. Only the movie theatre was so packed and I was so annoyed at driving around for 20 minutes looking for a parking space that I gave up and went home where I locked all the doors, closed the blinds, turned off all the lights, and turned my ac down very low. Guess what? It was still hot. I hate hot holidays.

If the powers that be are reading this, I still like the day off but can we please try and encourage more indoor activities like bowling or board games or something like that? I'd be much more apt to participate if I knew I didn't have to chance seeing shorts on men.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

And it's out.

I have a new niece. Her name is Chloe Grace. J has enlightened me on the problems that arise from naming a kid a virtue, so there's that. But the Chloe part is nice. And I'm fairly certain my brother and SIL don't know who the Kardashians are - another good point.

She weighed in at 8 lbs, 14 oz. She's huge! And she's 21" long. That's long, right? I mean, I wouldn't want an almost 2 foot long thing inside of me. (I wouldn't want any kind of "thing" inside me but that's another topic altogether.)

She was all puffy and stay-puff-mashmellow-manish and she had an eerie purple glow about her, but by the time we started to leave the hospital in the evening she was beginning to look like a normal baby.

FYI: don't go look in the nursery when the baby makes their first trip there. The mean nurses stick utensils up the baby's butt, poke them with sharp needles, and scrub their poor, little head with a loofa. Boo to mean baby nurses! I wonder what they shoot them with? Rana - any help? I never knew babies got a shot immediately after they were born.

My brother has 5 kids now. Take a moment to ingest that. 5 kids. It's completely bizarre. They were all there at the hospital for pictures and introductions and what not. It was a nice scene.

And then. I won't go into the details but suffice to say that I love my mother and she is a much better person than I will ever be. Don't get me wrong, she's completely batshit crazy sometimes, but I know I can never have the patience and strength that she has. She's a much better person than me. As I sat in the backseat of our car (filled with my mom, my dad, my oldest nephew, and my grandmother), completely filled with rage and practically bruising myself to keep my mouth shut, I gained a whole new level of respect for my mom. My dad better not give her cancer with his goddamned cigar smoking. (That last bit was a completely unrelated aside.)

So there were some highs yesterday and there were some serious lows. I'm choosing the forget the lows and focus on the highs. Yea a baby! Yea a newfound respect for the mom! Yea a baby!

And um, is it wrong that I want to hug and kiss the baby and make her love me more than anyone else? I don't want to breastfeed her or buy her clothes or anything but unadulterated, compulsive love? Yeah, I'll take that.