The yin and the yang - I think.

So my bf has been out of town this week at a conference. He's been crazy busy trying to attend the conference and get his regular work done. He's a much better employee than I am. If I'm at a conference I don't even check voicemail and email. He also just found out he got this huge contract thing he's been working on, which is great. (I'm going to make him buy me a cute pill box with all his bonus $$$. It's too embarassing to carry around pill bottles and vitamin bottles, etc., but a pretty pill box is one of those discretionary things I can't bring myself to buy... for myself - I feel like I've got some pronouns wrong...) I told him we'd celebrate his big score this weekend when he gets home. He agreed and thought that sounded fab. (Boy words though.)

Our conversation last night:

Me: I've got our celebration on Friday night all planned out.
Him: Oh yeah?
Me: Yep. It's gonna be great.
Him: Uh-huh... (getting suspicious that I make him go to a fancy restaurant, I can tell)
Me: dramatic pause
Him: What is it already?
Me: I'm hanging out with my girlfriends.
Him: What? Why?
Me: Because I haven't seen them in awhile.
Him: So our celebration is...
Me: Yep, that's right. We'll celebrate by you being at home all by yourself.
Him: Omg, you're the best. Thanks so much.
Me: No problem.

This exact conversation is one of the reasons that I love and hate my bf, all at the same time. I'm sure you can see why. (Oh and he didn't actually say omg. He said the real words. And to be fair, he didn't actually say I was the best but it was something similar that I can't remember. I like my way and I'm repeating it so it gets to be my words.)

Full disclosure: I'm in a mood.

You know the kind - where everything looks dour and grim and everything seems so damn boring. My emotions are easily held hostage by my sense of boredom. My complaints:

1. I'm broke. I'm in debt and I'm broke. I will never be out of debt. I will never be able to afford a new car. I will never be able to buy a house or even rent a bigger place.

2. I'm hungry. I'm on this new low-cal/high-protein diet and oh my god it sucks. I haven't cheated one, single time (and I don't want to), but I spend most of my evenings hungry and thinking about protein shakes. Fuck.

3. I'm bored. Last week was a crazy week and I needed a couple of days to myself to regain my sense of equilibrium. Great. My "couple of days" has extended to a week and I'm bored out of my goddamn mind! There are things I'd like to do (at work, at home, etc.) but I'm too bored to even seriously contemplate doing them. I have organized and cleaned my kitchen about 4 times this week though.

4. I'm feeling crazy bloated and it's terribly uncomfortable. (I wish I had Aunt Period to blame all of this on but I don't.)

5. The gift I gave my grandmother yesterday for her bday broke right as she was opening it. So now I have to take it back, hope they have another, and somehow get it back to her sometime soon.

6. I'd love to go to Target to practice some retail therapy only I can't. Refer to #1.

7. It's only Thursday. I have a whole other day of work before I can call this godforsaken week over.

8. The Pope is taking up all my good debate coverage on the teevee. I want politics not Papal deep thoughts. I just don't get the Pope. What's the big deal? I'm not Catholic or anything, but my lapsing Baptist self doesn't get up in arms over Joel Osteen coming to town. And I'm going to just say it: I like the old Pope better. He was bad about the molesting stuff (really bad), but the new Pope is way worse in just about every way. Ugh. Whatever. The main point is that I want proper analysis on HRC v. Obama, not coverage of the Pope risking all by rolling the windows down in his weird glass carriage.

9. I missed my Pilates class yesterday. I stupidly overslept and they learned how to do the inchworm. I'm probably really bad at it but I want to know how to inchworm too.

10. I'm pretty sure all this pissiness is causing wrinkles. And my skin is extremely dry this week. Damn all you oily-faced people, monopolizing the face care market!

Axe Body Spray

My day was made yesterday about 4:00 p.m. by an Admin in my office. Why, you ask? Apparently she noticed a bad odor coming from the kitchen(esque) area in the hallway. She complained that it smelled like fish. Our boss offered to spray his "good-smelling stuff" to cover the odor. Into his office she went where he presented her with his secret against bad odors - Axe Body Spray. As he sprayed the little, black, aerosol can into the air she coughed and sputtered and excused herself to her office where I found her, a short while later and she relayed the story to me.

This same boss has certain, how shall I say?, odor issues himself. While I distinctly prefer to overwhelming smell of man/boy cologne to the underlying offensive... odors, I've always wondered how the man/boy cologne smell seemed to grow and get stronger at certain points during the day. Now I know. It's the repetitive use of Axe. Body. Spray.

So while the Admin was busy complaining of an oncoming migraine, I was happily skipping back to my office to make a phone call to an ex-coworker with whom I'd developed many alternative tricks for compensating for the above odor issues.

If you can't comprehend why this made my day, imagine all those "sexy" Axe commercials and then picture your own smell-challenged boss. If that doesn't produce a guffaw or two, your boss is not nearly as physically repulsive as mine.

I suck

Who else feels like ass because they watched the entire American Idol Gives Back, in hopes of seeing Brad Pitt un-uglified, cried at all the sad bits, and was too cheap/lazy to donate even a dollar? God I suck. Saddest parts? When they showed the 15 year-old who had to take care of his 3 younger brothers because their parents died. It was like Party of Five but in Africa and with waaay worse dilemmas than whether to take over the family restaurant or not. I can deal with all the other heartbreak the show had to offer but the kid playing parent? I lost it.

It really makes worrying about a DHEA imbalance lame in comparison... (It's possible the DHEA worry was lame before it was put into comparison with other horrors.)

On a completely different note, I rode the bus to work today for the first time ever. It was okay. The only downside is getting up earlier than normal but I really would love a less rushed morning, so maybe I can manage. My route is filled with college students all going to campus (the bus cuts through campus to get downtown), and it made me semi-wistful for my college days. You couldn't pay me enough to relive them socially (fun but I couldn't stand to do it again), but I loved, loved, loved all the classes and books and learning. I'm sure it wouldn't be the same though. You can never go home, eh?

Speaking of old class days, my law school is having it's 5 year reunion this weekend. I'm boycotting. I would rather go to my high school reunion than my law school reunion, and that's saying a lot since I refused to go to the former as well. I sincerely hated law school. It was petty and shallow and I'm fairly certain learning "the law" in that corporate-preparing environment killed not only part of my soul but a large part of my brain as well. The only good things I got out of law school are: the ability to argue both sides of a point, 3 amazing friends (more that went to law school but I didn't know them there), a J.D., and a whole lotta good debt to mask my bad debt.

Moral of the story? Don't go to law school to change the world. Donate money to American Idol Gives Back instead.

DHEA deficient

Apparently I have low DHEA Sulfate levels. According to my research, low levels are caused by laziness and overeating or by being an ana. I wonder which category I fall under? I bought some supplements but then I read about how there's a movement in Congress to make DHEA supps controlled substances, needing a prescription to get them. I also read that it increases body hair, and I have really light hair on my legs and practically none on my arms and face. I'm concerned that a) I'll end up looking like Sly Stallone, b) my potential political career could be ruined by questions of taking a drug that will later be illegal (aka baseball giants), and c) that I'll start growing a beard (or worse a porn 'stache). Do any of you, ahem, science people know the answers to these questions?

Why did I agree?

Not only did I agree to join the Pilates Bootcamp class at 6:00 a.m. for the next 8 weeks, but I paid for it! I'm insane. I must not be getting enough oxygen to my brain. It's only on Wednesdays but still. And a few weeks ago I scheduled a doctor's appointment for tomorrow (Wednesday) at 9:30 hoping to be able to sleep in a little on a workday, a rarity. But what did my dumb self forget about? 6:00 a.m. pilates, that's what. So not only do I not get to sleep in, but I waste precious face hours at work (the one benefit to an early pilates class is that the boss gets to see me in my office before 9:00 a.m.). Sucks!!!

I am a fool. Officially. Oh and the pilates girl? Is super bendy and kinda freaks me out a little. I can't admit that to my other pilates goers, because I'm too ashamed to cop to my fear of overly flexible things.

It must be Monday.

Guilt!!!!!!!!!! Is a horrible thing. Brief story some of you already know: Sis-in-law's 3rd kid + baby shower + invite came a week ahead of time + she lives in town 2 hours away + I'm not going + big fight with mom = GUILT.

I wasn't feeling the guilt, only righteous indignation at the aforementioned big fight with mom, but when I sent out all the emails RSVPing in the negative and apologizing to SIL, my mom's shitty ass guilt trip is starting to work. She apologized for the nasty words said in the fight and she's even picking up the flowers I ordered (in lieu of attendance - I try to be nice) and taking them to the shower. But even her good deeds are laced with guilt. See? She's the good family member - going to the shower and even picking up my pseudo-gift to bring along with her. *sigh* My boobs are starting to sweat. Apparently guilt-induced cleavage sweat. Gross and gross.

To add to the gloriousness of today I just now realized I have my cardigan on inside out. Nice. I've talked with lots of people today and no one has pointed it out to me. I'm going to wear it like this for the rest of the day in defiance of all the fuckers who don't tell you you have spinach in your teeth. Fuck those people. (I'm displacing anger here, in case you needed an explanation.)

Bathroom Etiquette 101

I once heard a friend ranting about how horrid automated bathrooms were/are. His argument was completely devoid of all rational thought. I know this because I disagree completely. Therefore I'm right and he's wrong. Especially because bathrooms are gross and anyone who doesn't understand that is a sick, sick freak. Automated bathrooms (except for hand dryers - give me a germ attack, will ya?) are my own personal heaven. Toilet seat condoms? Faucets you don't have to touch? Doors that just have those twisty turn things so people can't see in instead of actual doors with doorknobs? Glorious, fecal free world, I heart thee.

So what should we, as a society, do if we are not privy (no half-assed pun intended (ha! no 2nd pun intended either)) to the beauty of the automated bathroom?

Rule #1: If you're at work, use the bathroom on your floor only for liquid waste, not solid waste. No one needs to know you in that way. Go to a different floor to share that particular knowledge with the plumbing system.

Rule #2: Never touch any of your body to a toilet seat - never. Use a toilet seat condom or if there are none available, make your own with the useful toilet paper sitting right there.

Rule #3: Rule #2 applies to flushing as well. That's what feet are for.

Rule #4: Wash your hands for 15 seconds, minimum. I prefer a nice, regimented routine of 5 seconds under water, 5 seconds lathering, and 5 seconds rinsing. It works out quite nicely.

Rule #5: Use a paper towel to turn off the sink faucet. You used dirty hands (that touched the outside bathroom door handle, the bathroom stall door, the toilet paper roll, and the stall door lock) to turn it on, so don't undo all your hard work by dirtying up your clean hands to turn it off.

Rule #6: Dry hands thoroughly. There's nothing worse than meeting someone in the hallway that you absolutely must shake hands with and having moist hands, especially if they see you've come from the bathroom. Best to avoid the speculation at all costs.

Rule #7: Use a different paper towel to open the bathroom door to get out. Lots of dirty, sick people do not wash their hands when they leave the bathroom and touch that very door handle. Again, why undo all the hard work of the cleansing process?

Rule #8: If you are in an office building, continue using the same paper towel to open all other doors that stand in the way of you and your office/desk/cube/etc. Those same fecal matter carrying freaks are opening the same doors you are.

I almost forgot Rule #9: Don't brush your teeth in the office bathroom. It's just gross. And really the dentist association people say too much brushing is actually bad for you. Pop a trident instead.

A little compulsion goes a long way in creating a happy potty experience for us all. Thank you and good bathrooming.

The bad, bad night of the JT sing-along...

Remember that post about being excited about the Justin Timberlake Sing-Along? Yeah, I should have known better than to be excited about something. History should have told me that the evening would be piss-poor. But do I listen to history? No. Hopes up - hopes dashed, that's the way of the world.

I held off posting about this because I'm not sure if peeps at work read this or not but here goes... I applied for a job a month or so ago that I'd be perfect for. I didn't get it. Fine. I didn't even get an interview even though I met every qualification x10 they were looking for. Fine. Whatever. Thursday night? I met the girl who did get that job. And as nice as she is, she is in no way qualified. She has less experience than me (2 years less), the experience she does have doesn't come close to matching what she'll be doing in her new job, and well, there's no 3rd thing. She just plain old isn't qualified and has no experience in the subject matter while I have all of that and above. Did I mention I didn't even get an interview?

See the evening started so nicely. The Sing-Along wasn't until 9:30ish, so a few BFFs and I hit up a women in law happy hour (yay - wine specials!). About half a glass in, I realized the new job the girl next to me was talking about was the one mentioned above. I spent the next glass and a half listening to all the information that lead me to the above conclusions.

The BFFs and I headed out to dinner after the happy hour and started putting pieces together. The realities of the job situation came together and the result? a very depressed me. So when it came time for the awesomeness that is Justin Timberlake, I was in quite the foul mood. I'm a stewer and an obsesser, so you can only imagine what a few hours did to my mood.

I will admit that JT perked me up a bit. I did comment on his sexiness more times than not during the night. Have you ever noticed how hot he is? Good lord!! And all of his songs talk about how this or that girl did him wrong and now he's going to passive-agressively not give them his name or ring (or worse: kill them in a car crash). Looking back over the whole Britney/JT break-up, I'm now firmly on Team Britney. (Aside: over Easter my little niece was wearing a dress and kept showing her undies. My SIL - uber crazy Christian SIL - told me to try to teach her right. When the SIL was out of sight, I explained to her the virtues of not exposing your "Britney" and she completely understood! And then, when her mom came back in the room, proceeded to spread her legs open, yell about showing her Britney, and then clap them closed again. Oops.) Anyway. I don't think it was right for JT to air all his dirty laundry and call out Britney for cheating on him. Whether she did or didn't, it wasn't very classy. Bad move, JT. Plus there was all that anger and little boy crying in those couple of videos where the pseudo-Britney sees the JT sex tape and JT practically forces ScarJo to commit suicide in a really expensive car. Me thinks JT might have a slight anger problem. But if you juxtapose the angry videos with the punked where JT thought all his stuff was getting repo'd and called his mom practically crying, well it makes one think he has a wee bit of manning up to do. Get on with it, will ya JT? Do you think he'll sing in a non-chipmunk register once he grows a pair?

So what DO your books say about you?

This Jezebel post pointed out this NYTimes article and then there was Rana's post on books, so what is a girl to do when the universe is begging her to answer what appears to be THE question of the day: what does your taste in books say about you?

I decided to let Google take a shot at it first. I found links to what your music says about you (I've got a little Cusack to help me out with that one), what your car says about you, what your checkbook says about you (checkbooks, really? that you're old and antiquated?), what your office says about you, what your spelling, mutual fund, blog, drink, and even your ringtone says about you but book/s? Nada. As Google failed me, not for the first time, I decided to tackle the issue myself.

Let's tackle a few top 10 books, shall we? (I'm picking and choosing my top 10 books because I haven't read very many of them. I have to talk about what I know, right?)

According to the NYTimes Modern Library:

#1: Ulysses - Um, I've never read this book but I'm guessing the person who has this on their bookshelf was an English major, which probably means the bookshelf in question came from IKEA. So I'm guessing Ulysses = poor.

#2: The Great Gatsby - This one could be left over from high school so it doesn't necessarily have the same meaning as #1, although it could. I'm guessing a person who identifies with the Great Gatsby might also identify with a $30k Millionaire, no? (Not the poor part but the used-and-abused-by-society-so-I've-got-to-get-mine part.) Perhaps Fortunate Son by CCR is their favorite song?

#3: A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man - paging Rory Gilmore! In my own version of pop culture know-how I've only heard this book referenced once in a Gilmore Girls episode (fyi - it was the one where Rory had an affair with her married ex-bf and then left town to "summer" with her grandmother in Europe). Again, I haven't read this book but I'm guessing anyone who has this book on their bookshelf can probably do a NYTimes crossword puzzle. In ink. I try to avoid people that are obviously that much smarter than me. I can handle a good TVGuide crossword puzzle though. How 'bout them apples?

#4: Lolita - oh my. This person is either a Russian lit enthusiast, which I can totally get behind because they must be the coolest, hippest people around (ahem), or they're a pervert. Either way is probably okay.

skipping a few...

#10: The Grapes of Wrath - run away! You've quite possibly met the most boring individual on the face of the planet. Hurry and get away while you still can! Oh and to all you Steinbeck fans out there? Suck it. You're boring too.

#13: 1984 - probably just a smart, sci-fi/technology geek. Can't go wrong with a person who will watch a midnight showing of Bladerunner or The Princess Bride with you, right?

#15: To the Lighthouse - seriously? Do people actually read Virginia Woolf anymore? Surely with all the anti-depressants and therapists out there we don't actually need to wallow in another woman's depressions do we? I mean, unless she's Sylvia Plath.

I'm skipping waay down to

#45: The Sun Also Rises - because I have a serious beef with Hemingway readers. Why do you hate women so? Is it the lack of a functioning penis? Too much sun? Either way, people who lay a claim to Hemingway are self-righteous misogynists, guaranteed - even the women. There's no crime greater than girl-on-girl crime, so sayeth Mean Girls. Be prepared to fight your way, passive-agressively of course, out of that den of inequities.

#58 & #69: The Age of Innocence and The House of Mirth, respectively - love these people. A reverence for all things Edith Wharton is a mark of a highly intelligent, witty, and humerous person. Not to mention fabulously beautiful, I'm sure. An Austenian attention to the detail of class warfare meets the gross tragedy of a Russian novel. There can never be anything greater. Therefore the person who carries an extensive Wharton library should be your best friend. Just saying.

#76: The Prime of Miss Jean Brode - most likely this person was a drama nerd in high school. They might still be one. A "leave the drama for your mama" t-shirt or sign anywhere in the vicinity of their living quarters will confirm your worst suspicions - once a drama queen, always a drama queen.

I could go on (and I seriously question this so-called "best of" list) but I won't. Any thoughts? Suggestions? Books to add to the list?

I'm not terribly exciting today

but I am terribly excited! I'm going to a Justin Timberlake sing-a-long tonight. I don't think I even know enough JT songs to justify the price of the ticket but singing? along? to words on a screen? *manic dance of the feet* (I'd do the whole body but I'm at my desk.)

To show how happy I am, I demonstrate my make-up bag. I brought it with me. To work. To actually apply make-up. That's a huge thing for me because I make it a point never to lose valuable sleeping time for application of eyeliner. But today? Well, I didn't lose sleep time but I brought the eyeliner with me. And I intend to use it, because god knows JT deserves a little eyeliner.

Parents just don't understand...

In the immortal words of the Fresh Prince of Bellaire and DJ Jazzy Jeff, "so to you, all the kids all across the land, there's no need to argue, parents just don't understand." Doo do doo do, zingy fun noise, doo do doo do.

So I was talking to my mom on the phone the other day. She randomly interrupts that she meant to tell me I have x dollars in some account somewhere. Me: wha? Her: A letter came for you and it said you had x dollars in a retirement account. Key points: retirement account (gives me a clue as to what she's talking about) and in letter format (i.e. she opened my mail).

Apparently my mother does not understand that she is not supposed to open my mail, even though we've had many civilized and not so civilized conversations about that very action ever since I was old enough to start receiving mail. (One not so civilized occasion occurred when she opened an acceptance/rejection letter in high school. I won't go into details but rest assured the neighbors stayed far away from our part of the street that night although she still refuses to admit she was wrong. That's the kind of mom I have.)

I pointed out to her, rather politely, that she shouldn't open my mail and her response was that she knew it was a federal offense but she didn't care. Apparently the fact that my head emerged from her vagina gives her the right to do what she wants regarding my mail. Or so she says. Whatever. Fine. So mom, when did this letter come? Oh weeks ago. Really? Why haven't you given it to me? Wrong question to ask. Next comes the lecture on me visiting her more often. Did I mention I'd seen her less than 24 hours earlier at my grandmother's for Easter dinner? But apparently that doesn't count because she puts my mail (that she's already opened) in my bedroom at her house and she can't be expected to go in there and pick it up to bring to me, can she? And of course if I visited her, I'd see for myself that there's something sitting on the bed I'm going to be sleeping in. See? It's all my fault.

Ignoring the above genius logic I ask her with whom might the retirement account be? And how should I retrieve the funds? (I figure these are safe questions since she's already read the fine print. But that's what I get for thinking.) Guess what? She doesn't know and she's slightly offended that I would ask her something she doesn't know the answer to. Please don't ask why she can't get up from her recliner and go pick up the offending piece of mail and let me know what it says, because god knows if she can't mail it to me or give it to me in person, she's certainly not going to get up from her chair and do actual moving around. Insanity!

I accept all of the above with no small amount of grace, if I do say so myself. I only point out the absurdity of the entire conversation two, maybe three times. But where I draw the line is today. I get an email from my mother with the subject line: "our conversation from the other evening." Here is her email, with only small edits to protect the innocent:

Tina,

When we were talking about the mail you had received from x, with some balance in an account, I couldn't remember what the name was on the account. Could it have been from xyz company?

Love you!


Regards,
Tina's mom

*bangs head on desk* I don't know Mom. Could it have been from xyz company? How the hell would I know? YOU HAVE THE LETTER!!! Again, I politely mentioned that it might behoove us both for her to retrieve the piece of offending mail instead of trying to guess back and forth, considering a) she'd read the mail and b) she freaking HAS THE LETTER!!! breathing, breathing...

So I repeat again, "so to you, all the kids all across the land, there's no need to argue, parents just don't understand." Doo do doo do, zingy fun noise, doo do doo do.

Forgive me if this post is all over the place. Parental love, eh?

Randomness

Last night at CardioTennis a random girl asked where the other girl was who is usually there complaining about everything? I was like, um me? But then she added that she meant the funny one. Ouch. I just want to point out that it was me who came up with the safe word bit, which is now a part of our regularly scheduled programming. C came up with schooner (SATC shout out!) as the safe word itself but the bit? Mine. See? I'm funny. I'll admit it's mainly funny because our tennis pro doesn't know what the whole S&M safe word thing is. He's sweet like that.

And do you know how many times I've been tempted to make balls/pain/safe word jokes? In the tennis arena the opportunities are endless. But I would like to thank our class leader for assuring us the mats will be cleaned thoroughly after every class. I do not want mat herpes. C & I discussed which would be worse - staph or mat herpes. I say mat herpes because that shit is on your face, yo. Excluding the nose job Project Runway designer, you hardly ever see people with staph on their faces. Sure you might die but honestly it doesn't happen that often. And I'd rather be pretty while having a life-threatening infection than ugly while having to continue going to work every day. Faulty logic? I think not.

A few of my favorite tv things...

Monday night two of my favorite episodes of two of my favorite shows came one. I'm going to scour youtube to see if I can find clips for you. And for those of you that have never seen Golden Girls (you know who you are), shame on you. I propose to remedy that right here.

The first ep (which I can't find on youtube, damn copyrights!) was the episode of King of the Hill where the whole family goes to Japan and meets Hank's half Japanese brother, who happens to look just like him except for the black hair. Bobby also discovers Dance, Dance Revolution. Oh to be a Hill.

The second ep is a Golden Girls where Dorothy and Rose enter a Miami songwriting competition. I have more than one friend who would sing this with me anytime we choose.




And just an extra for your pleasure: This is the Golden Girls episode where the girls decide to buy condoms before their big cruise (eek!) with their current boys.

My "Dying Instructions" List

I figure if I can obsess about retirement, I can lay out the specifics of dying, death, my own in particular.

First thing to do if I die or am close to dying: read this blog entry.

Regarding being hooked up to machines: Don't unplug me! I hate to be a drain on the environment and someone's electricity bill (charge it to my Visa, they won't care), but damn! give a girl a moment, ya know? I'm slow in most things I do, especially if it involves physical activity like, say, coming back to life. So give me a few months to sort things out. If I'm not awake in oh, 3 months, you can put a dimmer on my switches. Turn me down low at night and see how I cook. If in another 3 months I've shown no improvement and instead show obvious signs of distress when I'm on the "low" setting, I concede that it's probably time to start planning the funeral.

Regarding the funeral:

1. Open casket.

2. Pin my butt and thighs back, maybe even some stomach, and push my boobs up. I want everyone to admire my post-mortem body.

3. Put me in something cute. I don't want to wear any black or yellow or red. I'd be happiest with a dress in peacock blue (favorite color and all), because it makes my eyes look good. I have a great one from Anthro that you can use if no one wants to have it after I'm dead.

4. Can you open eyes on a dead person? If so and if they look halfway decent, prop those babies open. It's my best asset. Everyone might as well enjoy it.

5. Get a real makeup artist to do my face. I don't want one of those clown, funeral home people. I'm cool with eyeliner as well. Just be sure to apply it like I would. No red lipstick.

6. I want tears. I don't want any of this laughing through tears, telling funny stories junk. I want honest-to-goodness sobbing.

7. If you put a cross on or near me, I will rise up and haunt you. Not kidding. I'll accept a flask though.

8. I want everyone to stand up and tell a story about me. I prefer it to be inspirational in a way that will encourage people to cry more. If you can't think of a story where I acted in an upstanding, moral way, make one up. No one will know and it will greatly decrease your chances of the aforementioned haunting.

9. Song choice - sad songs. Yesterday (Beatles), O Danny Boy (any old Irish guy), It's So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday (Boys II Men), My Wild Irish Rose (Hank Lucklin), Hallelujah (Jeff Buckley), Tiny Dancer (Elton John, although the Foo Fighters version is also acceptable), Sitting on the Dock of the Bay (Otis Redding - don't fuck with this one), Rio (Duran, Duran), and Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain (Willie Nelson). I reserve the right to add to and/or change this list at any time.

10. Burial or cremation? Couldn't care less. But only cremate me after the open casket if that's the choice. Make me into diamonds or amber, keep me above the fireplace, vacuum me up, or throw me off a cliff. I don't care. Just make sure there's a marker out there somewhere that's bigger and better than all the other grave markers. Make it interesting enough so that classes of kids will want to come over and do grave rubbings on my headstone/marker thing. Put swirlies and ridges and stuff.

Oh and the most important bit: if and when I am getting to that point, run to wikipedia (or whatever the future equivalent is) and create some entry calling me the inventor of cold fusion or some such thing. Make sure all the newspapers know the inventor (creator?) of cold fusion just died and the whole scientific community (or whatever community it is that I'm a part of) is in mourning. Call it a loss for the Nobel Prize Committee. (I'm open to true songwriter of all Beatles songs, muse for Jackson Pollack, or whatever other really significant thing you can think of that would be hard to prove.)

Oh and G? When you go to my house to remove anything incriminating? Don't forget the, er, things that are in the strawberry shortcake tin.

Doomsday. The Movie.

If you've never heard of Doomsday, you're not alone. I saw it Sunday night with the boy and had never heard of it. At first I thought it was going to be yet another bad movie with only slightly superficial entertainment value. I'm here to say it: I. Was. Wrong. Doomsday is by far the most awesome horrible film I've ever seen. Quick synopsis: 1980s punk scene meets A Knight's Tale meets 28 Days Later.

This movie is so bad I'm not even sure it falls in the B movie category. But! It was so freaking awesome that everyone should see it - preferably with a drink or two in hand. The first point at which I suspected this might be more than just a bad movie came about 1/5 in when the main character came across a group of people who, for better or worse, were supposed to be so isolated that a) no one even knew if they were still alive and b) were cannibals. Well. They may have resorted to eating each other, but after 20 some odd years of being alone, they still managed to conserve the Manic Panic hairdye and eyeliner. That takes talent, my friend.

The second turning point for me (when I decided it was one of the most awesome movies I'd ever seen) was when the post-apopolypic punk fiends had a dance sequence. The dance sequence was one half punk, s&m type stuff and one half lord of the dance and kilts. Did I mention awesome?

Oh and I can't even talk about when the main characters met the other post-apopolypic group - the knights. That glory can't even be shared in the written word. If only Heath Ledger had dome this movie before he died, I would have been in heaven. (no pun intended)

Moral of this post: run, don't walk to see this movie. Take all your friends and your own "adult" refreshments and be prepared to be blown away by the awesome glory of the worst movie I've ever seen.

Oh and by the way, do movie critics not get when a movie is trying to be bad? Here's the best review I read. It pretty much sums up the entire experience, although it leaves out A Knight's Tale as a potential influence, which I think must be an oversight by the author.

The Joys of Living Alone.

A post on Jezebel got me thinking about the joys of living alone.

Joy #1: getting to watch Golden Girls all I want. It's kind of annoying when the boy comes over and I don't get to have my regular midnight viewing of Dorothy and the gang.

Joy #2: morning rituals that don't involve being courteous to someone else. I hate to wake up the boy in the morning so I don't turn the tv on when I'm getting ready (again to watch Golden Girls) and I close the bathroom door so the light doesn't bother him. I don't mind being nice every once in awhile but if I had to be that curteous every single day? Madness.

Joy #3: dishes get done on my schedule. I'm actually pretty good about keeping my dishes in the dishwasher, put up, etc. (mainly because I have like 3 plates/bowls/spoons that I adore), but if I want to be lazy and keep some plates in the sink for a week, I totally can.

Joy #4: I get to put my shoes wherever the hell I want!!! That last one is directed at my old roommate who used to (rightly) complain when I left my shoes by the front door. But when I'm the only one tripping over them? I can keep them wherever I want.

Joy #5: my DVR is my own. If I want to fill my DVR with 30 Rock episodes and an occasionally trashy reality show, I can. No one can chastise me for taking up too much room with stupid shows. Because I'm the only one who cares. So I can record Heathers when it comes on at 3 in the morning and watch it over 3 days time.

Joy #6: I can use the dining room table for mail if it's the most convenient place to put it, which it is.

Joy #7: I can feel zero guilt if I come home after the gym and do absolutely nothing until it's time to go to bed. (I add the gym part because that's necessary to the zero guilt part - it's a cause and effect type thing.)

Joy #8: I can wear nothing but a t-shirt when all my other pjs are dirty and I don't have to worry about any weird looks or offending hands.

Joy #9: my beautiful, striped, thrift store find chair is displayed in all her glory and I don't care if anyone else likes it.

Joy #10: I can talk on my cell as long and as loud as I want without worrying about disrupting anyone else. And I can talk about whomever I want. Hee. (It's hard to talk about a boy when he's sitting next to you.)

Joy #11: I can eat ice cream at 2 in the morning if I want and completely forget that it happened. I'm not an ice cream-in-the-wee-hours type of person but I could do it if I wanted to.

Joy #12: I can wear my ugly glasses all the time because they're the comfiest.

Joy #13: my home outfits are only seen by me. I have a tendency, when cold, to wear capri pants with really tall socks and about 3 shirts. I'm cold often. It's not a look one would like others to see.

Joy #14: as Jezebel put it, my floordrobe. Mine's really a chairdrobe but same diff. No one can tell me to hang up my clothes, thank god!

Joy #15: I can decorate as I please. Case in point: I'm a bit of a mirror fiend. I have a tiny place and I happen to believe that strategic mirror placement helps with the illusion of space. But seriously, if I didn't point it out to a visitor, I'm pretty sure no one would notice. At least I think that way.

Joy #16: I can call in sick and no one will know that I'm not really sick.

Joy #17: no one has to know that one of my sincerest hobbies on the weekends is to lay in bed for multiple hours.

Joy #18: if I drop something on the floor in the middle of cleaning or cooking or bringing mail in or whatever, I don't have to pick it up. At least not before I trip on it or squish it.

Joy #19: my bathroom is my own. I never have to move away from the mirror so someone else can brush their teeth and I do not have to put my eyeliner on in a room that doesn't have as flattering light as the bathroom.

Joy #20: (last but not least) everything is mine, all mine!! If I hate the way a book is stacked, I can move it. If I love a candle, I can display it. If I want a lamp on 24/7, it's on. If I want to randomly change my bedroom linens and curtains, I do it. If I want my bouncy, workout ball thing to be a prominent part of my everyday life, it is. If I want to move a painting 2.5 inches to the left, it's moved baby. Everything I own is precious and beautiful to me. I agonize over placement of the smallest votive holder. And my Kim Possible doll? she's perfectly placed in the kitchen to tell me I can do it! No one gets to have an opinion on my magnet collection of refrigerator hodge-podge because I pay the rent.

I stopped at 20 but I could list 5,000 reasons to live alone. But really, #1 is the most important. I have my priorities.

There is no more aptly named blog than Cute Overload.

Are you freaking kidding me?

And then this too? This is too insane to possibly comprehend on any kind of level. I think my brain is going to explode with the cuteness of it all.

To guilt or not to guilt?

Where is the line between being a total sociopath and not giving a rat's ass about people and actually not caring because caring about stupid shit is stupid? Furthermore, where is the line between not giving a damn and the guilt that comes when you realize you don't give a damn about things like old people and diabetes and what not?

For instance, I just recently read that this old American Idoler has Type I diabetes and has had it for I don't know how many years. My reaction? Click. My thoughts? I wish TMZ was more interesting lately.

A second shining example of my extreme apathy for the cares of humankind came yesterday when I was talking to my grandmother. My great-aunt (her sister) bought some bedside tables for someone who didn't want them. They thought the tables would look good in my bedroom so suggested I come and take them. Not only did I not take them last weekend when I was there (although they would look good), I was annoyed at having the tables pawned off on me, which is an especially wrong attitude to have since I'm poor and cheap. So I thought about the tables when I got home, evaluated my bedroom furniture, and called my grandmother to tell her I'd take the tables next time I came to visit. The whole point of this long diatribe is that after our table discussion she just kept. on. talking. I was done, but she wasn't. She talked about the local news (for which I care not), her friends, the weather, etc., etc., etc. I kept saying, "okay, well, I'll see you in couple weekends..." only to have her talk more.

It was excrutiating and now I'm feeling the pangs of guilt over being such a bad granddaughter. I mean it seriously would not hurt me to talk on the phone for 10 minutes, would it? No. And do I think my disinterest is not immediately interpreted by my grandmother? No. I'm a lame, lame, lame (3 lames, George Clooney would object) person. And I will probably pay via bad karma (I had to change my word usage there because I couldn't figure out how to put karma into adverb form). Sigh.

And yet. I'm really adept at pushing guilt aside for the more literate argument of "oh well." Who does that? Now I'm feeling guilty over my ability to avoid guilt. Geez. It's a never-ending cycle. Ah well. I'll just drink an extra glass or two of water from the faucet tonight so I can get some extra pharmaceuticals in my system.

Damn Time Change!!!

Warning: rant ahead

Why, oh why, is it necessary to change the motherf**cking clock twice a year? In Texas it gets dark at what, 7:30 p.m.? Now with a time change it will get dark at 8:30. Give us a month or so and we'll be seeing the sun set at 10:15. I don't know about anyone else but I do not need that much sunlight. And, quite frankly, I couldn't give a shit about those that do. Why do the freaks of nature who like running at 9 o'clock at night get to dictate the amount of sunshine I'm supposed to be exposed to?

I LIKE coming home from the gym at 7:00 and feeling good about locking myself indoors for the rest of the evening. I DO NOT LIKE joining the neighbors for a beer on the patio with mosquitos eating me up, all because it's a freaking "beautiful night." Screw beautiful nights. You know what's beautiful? Watching Jon Stewart's pasty face and enjoying beach weather via reruns of The Golden Girls.

If holing up in my house with a blanket and darkness surrounding me is wrong, I don't want to be right. And red wine never tastes as good in the daylight. Just saying.

See what daylight savings time does to me? Loss of hour = less sleep = tiredness = grumpiness = blog rant.

One more irritating point: the whole "fall back" thing? doesn't happen until November. So we have one extra hour of daylight for 8 months and one extra hour of darkness for only 4 months. What's fair about that? Daylight savings time unfairly benefits happy people. Surely this is a violation of the due process or commerce clause, right? Ugh.

Unauthorized campaign literature...

I totally stole this from Jezebel. If you can't read it for some reason, check it out here.

It's freaking hilarious!

Voting Day in Texas! Weeeee!!!!!

I'm proudly sporting my "I Voted" sticker right now. I went this morning and there was quite a turn out for 9:30 a.m. Usually there's less than 5 people in my polling location (and that's optimistic). Today there were 20-30. It was pretty shocking. I saw Obama tables/supporters on 3 out of 4 corners around the polling place. But no HRC supporters. It was weird. On one corner a woman was standing with an Obama sign. She had her kid (or kids?) with her as well. It was pretty cold this morning, so she must be very dedicated. Of course the kid(s) had their own pretty ride to hide out in if things got too hairy. The mom was the real soldier with a sign out and braving the weather all by her lonesome (sort of - do kids count as company?).

It was definitely exciting and I'm going back to caucus at 7:15. I wonder if there will be a long line then too? Sadly I missed all the blue hairs who usually run the election. Today it was mainly young 'uns with one old man who had earrings (as in more than one), so I'm not sure he counted toward my blue-hair demographic.

I can't wait to tune in tonight and see what happens! Go Obama! Or HRC if that's the way the tide turns!!

I've been home sick for 3 straight days...

and yet I've done more work in these 3 days than I do in a week at my actual office. It turns out my brain really works well in the after midnight hours. That must be why I find Frasier so much funnier before midnight than after. That's not to say Frasier isn't funny. Sometimes it is. But it's not Mensa funny. Apparently Mensa thinks they know what smart tv shows are. I beg to differ if this is really the best they have to offer. If you don't want to bother clicking on the link, I'll do the damage for you. Here's their list of smartest shows:

Frasier
The West Wing
Boston Legal
Jeopardy
Cosmos
House
CSI
All in the Family
Mad About You
MASH

I'll give them Jeopard because duh! and Cosmos since that's a totally nerdy PBS type thing. I'll also agree with All in the Family because the satire and sarcasm in that show was brilliant. Voltaire couldn't have done better himself. But Mad About You? And CSI? I refuse to believe those are smart shows. It's not that they're dumb but really? And where are Gilmore Girls and Veronica Mars? Admittedly those are my favorite tv shows period but part of the reason is because they were so freaking smart. Certainly they were more intelligent than stupid, old Frasier (which I do enjoy).

Mensa. Pshaw. Dumbasses.

Excellent way to kill time...

http://community.livejournal.com/1bruce1/profile

It's a great recap of Sweet Valley Twins/High/College (SVU) books. I spent practically a whole afternoon at work (when there was nothing to do - geez!) reading and only got through about 1/3 of them. They. are. awesome.

Random thought: Cicadas are really annoying. It's freaking 80+ degrees here and I'm sick to death of the damn cicadas drowning out the tv. How can I properly dissect the American Idolers if I can't hear them over insect legs rubbing together. I mean, I get it. I've worn corduroy but come on. Cicadas are insane. Stop mating! It's too early! (Just to spite me, one just went into overdrive. I hope it chafes itself raw.)

Summary of last night's debate...

First my thoughts: HRC looked great. Her make-up was excellent. I'm guessing Bare Minerals but I suppose it could have been something more with a professional make-up artist. Either way she looked great. It also occurred to me how hard it must be for Chelsea to get up and talk to people for her mom. She doesn't seem like the most outgoing person in the world. I bet she got used to keeping her privacy, given media scrutiny and all. She must really, really want her mom to win to put herself out there like that.

I'm here in Austin so it was really exciting that everything was happening in my town. Two complaints though - 1) only 100 tickets for the public to the debate? Insane. 2) Paying to go to the viewing parties where HRC and Obama showed up to afterward? Annoying. My couch was free. I drove by campus on my way home from work (can't help it, I live that way) and there were a lot of people mini-rallying outside the arena area. It was pretty cool. I honked and waved as I passed them, like I was in a parade. Lame but the main cause of the giddiness on the way home.

Moderators: yadda, yadda, yadda
HRC: Same thing I've always said.
BO (hee): And I agree.
Moderators: more junk about stuff, sometimes in Spanish
BO: More of the same.
HRC: And I agree.
Moderators: Stir up the pot.
BO: Plagarism is sheer sillyness.
HRC: No it's not.
Audience: *crickets* and a few boos
HRC campaign: aaaand you're fired, speech writer!
BO: I'm slightly agitated by your attack. Should we discuss healthcare more? Our plans are 99% the same but really, that 1% is HUGE.
Moderators: Can we be done now?
BO: Sure. I'm done. I'm cool and HRC totally didn't beat me.
HRC: Oh yeah? Here's your KO punch, Barack. Please don't remember that I'm lifting this "we're going to be okay" message from John Edwards. Hate to think I might be the pot and you the kettle in this little scenario.
Audience: OMG! That was like totally awesome!! I'm off to early vote!

I only wish they'd mentioned Texas more. I love that. I think I shall forget all about the debate tonight over a glass (or 3) or wine. It wasn't terribly exciting anyway. And I missed American Idol for it. Well, that part was actually okay.

Apparently it's a lovers' tiff...

If you haven't heard about the story the NYTimes did on McCain's shady girl love, check it out here: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/02/21/us/politics/21mccain.html?_r=1&hp&oref=slogin

It's pretty inocuous actually but you know I had to tune into Rush Limbaugh today to see what he had to say about it. According to him, this story is the result of a lovers' tiff between the New York Times and John McCain. Ha ha! See, the NYT saw McCain as a moderate Repug and since he's been catering to the conservative base in the past few weeks, they got pissed off and decided to print this "libel" against him. (Psst, I've read the entire article and there's no libel there but whatevs. Apparently a prominate newspaper doesn't know jack about how to protect itself from libel and, you know, check facts or what not.)

I find it highly amusing that a story that first premiered on the Drudge Report over two months ago (along with various other political/sensationalist websites, i.e. Wonkette), and that is only now being covered by a reputable news source (depending on your pov) is somehow the result of injured feelings. And is it not odd that the sources in the piece are from McCain's own campaign? Intereeesting.

I read the NYT. I like the NYT. But I'm under no delusion as to their journalistic integrity issues. I'm at least happy they struggle with ethical issues unlike other so-called "news" sources. However to imply that a newspaper that put off reporting about the Bush administration's failings in the Iraq war for months and months and months (at the request/insistence of Bush insiders) among many other damaging things, is now reporting a story over 9 years old (and 2 months old in the reporting world) because a Republican presidential candidate is attempting to solidify his party's base under his feet is not only illogical, it's preposterous.

And this, my friends, is why I listen to Rush Limbaugh - for the laughs. The man is so illogical and inconsistent that his entire rants are like millions of tiny fingers on my ticklish spots. Hee. He's a funny, funny guy.

Long time, no post...

I haven't posted in oh, about 4 months (or is it 5?) mainly because a) no one was reading and b) I stopped having interesting things to say. Okay, I'm lying. It's pretty much only reason a. Anyway, squishy mentioned my blog so I thought I'll at least write something down if I have a funny. And I do.

I've taken to listening to Rush Limbaugh lately. No seriously. He's hilarious. I honestly had no idea why so many people listened to him but now I do - pure, unadulterated comedy. Granted I'm not sure he knows he's funny but I do. And I'll admit I'm a sore winner (or at least a sore presumed winner). But here's a direct/indirect quote from a caller today:

Caller: So, Rush, can this "religious fervor" over Barack Obama be sustained?
Rush: Absolutely not.
Me: Hahahahahahaha, snort, snort, guffaw, guffaw, hahahahahahaha.

This is funny on so many levels. I love the use of the phrase "religious fervor," because recently I've had two people try and convince me that Obama is Muslim. First, there's nothing wrong with him being Muslim, so get over it. And second he's not Muslim!! Damn fired Clinton staffer for putting out that damn email. But this little exchange between Rush and Caller is downright hysterical mainly due to the fact that for the past 8 years religious fervor has extended to create pretty much all the evil in the U.S., at least politically. Give me a scandal or a bad decision and I'll find you religious fervor as the a co-conspirator. Not to mention that religious fervor is the cornerstone of Karl Rove and the current administration. Surely the irony of the Caller's statement is not lost, nor the instant, adament response of Rush.

Like I said, pure, unadulterated comedy. Rush. Hee!

Too much Tori Amos

While at work I'm limited to my music selections to random cds that don't output too much noise. As is, they're mainly girls, some bordering on grrls. I randomly hit on Tales from a Librarian today and it's a really great cd. It reminds me of the 90s, but it's still a great cd. (I count the early 00s at the 90s, just an fyi.) Instead of having the typical too-much-Tori-response and associate all past sexual encounters as some form of sexual assault (just a guess), I just feel slightly lame. While I'm glad I don't have countless ups and downs in my social life, being drama-free does make me feel old. And did I mention lame? I'm not sad. I have no one to blame for desperate situations. I don't even have desperate situations - or perceived desperate situations to be more accurate. Is this a product of getting older or of being in a steady relationship? (I'm using "steady" in an even-keel type way, not gee whillickers!, I'm going steady type way.)

Boo to 90s, angsty music. It makes me feel old and boring.

Electric Youth?

I swear to god someone in my office building wears Electric Youth perfume. Remember that stuff? The Debbie Gibson fragrance? I remember it distinctly because a) I was madly in love with Debbie Gibson as a child and b) my mother stole the perfume from me and wore it every, single day. The smell is tied to my childhood. Turns out you can't really buy this stuff anymore. Whoever is wearing it must have stockpiled it from 1988...

A plug and a newly discovered allergy.

My friend John-Michael (are you reading this?) makes really cool electronics/toys/random things and will be presenting at Maker Faire next weekend here in Austin. Here's a pic of his latest Halloween special addition Thingamas:

He has a great bunch of pics of them on his flicker website http://www.flickr.com/photos/john-mike/ and you can check out all his regular creations at his Bleep Labs' site http://www.bleeplabs.com/

Update: my glands are swollen. I think my lymph nodes are allergic to diet coke.

Babies are fun when they belong to other people.

I have a gift - I can predict my sister-in-law's pregnancies. Only hers and no others (not even the first sis-in-law, this is the 2nd). I have dreams where she's pregnant. I call her and tell her about them and she scoffs at me. A couple of months later (sometimes less depending on their timetables), I get a call announcing a pregnancy. I've had the dream 4 times in my entire life and she's been pregnant 4 times (each around the time of the dream). It could be alpha waves or something coming from my brother but, to be honest, that's kind of sick if you think about it. So I prefer to think of it as psychic ability. If anyone were to ever doubt my abilities, I can just point to my nieces and nephews and say, "see? I told you so."

On a similar note, congrats to K & K! They just had their triplets last night. So not only are they the first "friend" couple I have to have kids, but they have three of them! At the same time! It's insane and crazy and they'll make the best parents. And if those kids' first words aren't something that would make a sailor blush, I'll start a college fund. I think I'll bring sushi over (instead of baby stuff) when I go visit them for the first time. I know at least K will thank me. She never craved her beer or bloody marys (that would have been me but with wine and vodka), but I know she missed her raw fish.

Yesterday was a good day. It was the best day I've had in a long time. There are still sad things going on but damn it's good to hear about babies. And no, Mom, I'm still not changing my mind about having any. Get over it.

I'm having stylist guilt...

On odd months I go to my stylist to get my hair cut. On even months I go to a different colorist to get my hair colored. They're at two different salons, know about the other, but do not know each other. Last time I got my hair colored I decided I was going to seek out a different place. That salon was too pricey and my face looked red due to bad blonde highlights. (It's quite possible I'm going through a blotchy phase but I prefer to put the blame on others. It's easier to make it through the day.)

So I found a new colorist. It's a Bumble & Bumble salon which is supposed to be cool because: a) they give you samples of all the B&B products they use each time and b) they spend at least one day a week training to keep abreast of new techniques. Oh and did I mention much more affordable?

Due to the dental drama from last week, I had to spend my hard-earned, budgeted, haircut money on a damned cavity. Boo to the nth degree. This month, being an even month, I only have enough $$ for the color and not the cut. But I really need a haircut since I didn't get one last month. See my dilemma? I need a haircut and a color and I only have dollars for a color. Or a cut. What's a stylish girl to do?

Here's where the excellent deal at the new place comes in. Apparently I can get a cut and a color at the new place for what I paid for a color at the old place. So I can get two services for the price of one. Only it means I can't go to my lovely stylist whom I love dearly. I'm feeling the guilt. I went ahead and made an appointment for both services at the new salon and I'll get back on my odd month = haircut schedule next month but until then? I feel like I'm cheating. I've broken up with my old colorist and moved on to someone new. But I don't want to break up with my stylist. I still love and adore her. I'm just plain, old cheating because it's easy and convenient. Ack! I'm sick. And guilty.

Spinster Insurance

So apparently you can freeze your eggs now, not just fertilized embryos (redundant use of adjective?). It cost $5000, which I definitely can't afford. I guess if I can't afford to freeze my eggs in the near future, it's probably a pretty good sign I couldn't afford to have a kid - not to mention my lack of want.

A reader on Jezebel defined it as spinster insurance and that? is the funniest thing I've heard all week. (Combined with the thought of relying on men to take a bc pill everyday. As if.)

http://www.mirror.co.uk/showbiz/yourlife/sexandhealth/2007/09/27/should-you-put-motherhood-on-hold-89520-19855665/

Boo.

Apparently it's rude to correct other people's grammar. And apparently people remember things like that about you. It's not my fault some people can't speak the English language correctly.

On a related note, commercials could really use English degree holders to do a little editing in lame, product-driven dialogues. Just saying.

I look like I've had a stroke.

How long does it take for numbness to wear off? I had my FIRST! EVER! cavity filled this morning. It was a pretty horrific experience. I can handle shots and all that jazz, but the mere thought of having an actual hole in my tooth worked on by a man who wears jeans to work through me into a bit of a tizzy. Not to mention the fact that I noticed both the dentist and the assistant watching the Today show more than once while their hands were in my mouth. Not cool at all. A good thing of note is that apparently shots for numbing the gums have decreased in length. I had quite a few dentist visits that involved mouth numbing a few years ago (damn concrete driveway that decided to jump up and pulverize my teeth!), and I swear to god that I thought the needle would poke through my gums and go right on through to my brain. I have no clue how such a long needle is used for such a tiny space like gums.

So back to my original point: how long for the numbness to wear off? It's been 3 hours now and I still look like I'm the gross side of the before/after pic in the doctor's office. My coworker actually kicked me out of his office, because he couldn't accept the fact that he'll probably have a stroke sometime in his life. (You can imagine how this conversation got started, given the state of the sagging right side of my face.) Little or big, don't most people have some version of a stroke when they're old and feeble? Don't get mad at me. I didn't make the rules. It's their game and we're all just playing in it.

That movie about Jesse James? Blows.

Why is it that all sucky movies insist on extending my misery past the two hour threshold? I'm not saying all long movies suck, but all sucky movies are long. Brad Pitt wasn't even cute. What a disappointment. I also read somewhere that he looks like ass in HDTV. That's disappointing as well. I wonder what his butt (in Troy) looks like in HD. I might have to try it out soon.

I'm attempting to find a Halloween costume but nothing is calling to me except Buffy the Vampire Slayer and there's not really a definitive costume that goes with that. Except for the stake she carries around and cross she wears. Plus I'd have to buy a cross and a stake. Those seem like odd things to purchase for a Halloween costume. Although probably not as weird as the fake guns and bulletproof vests I want to buy for my Mr. and Mrs. Smith idea. I have to find a Mr. Smith. Or at least a Mr. who doesn't mind being a Smith for Halloween.

Forever 21 is the ultimate class equalizer.

Anthropologie is suing F21 for ripping off their designs (as are Anna Sui, Gwen Stefani aka LAMB, DVF, and other fashion bigwigs). As if these designers didn't ultimately rip off their ideas from others as well. And it's not like the factories aren't right next door to each other - F21's and high-end designers'.

The most important part of this story is the fact that I can't afford to buy the crap that LAMB or Anthro sells or at least not on a regular basis. I can afford to shop at F21. I love how all these fashion gurus think only really wealthy people should be able to dress well. I like clothes. I like nice clothes. I like style. I cannot, however, afford to spend $100-$200 on a trendy, cotton top from the pretties listed above. I can buy one at F21 for less than $20 though. I know it won't last more than a few washes, and I know I'm likely to have to sew a button back on. But give me a break. For a trendy summer shirt that isn't going to last longer than one season, what difference does it make?

While I don't always like F21 (and I certainly don't like their Bible verse printed on the bottom of every bag), I'm with them on this fight. Bringing fakes to the masses is a fight I can get behind.

If I were a cartoon...

Today I'd be a continually exploding stick of dynamite. I'm not a violent person and I can't really visualize violent things happening to people, but I did just watch that bit of Kill Bill where Uma takes out the whole Asian mafia and then scalps Lucy Lui. So badass. Anyway, I digress.

Just a few things that have made me irrationally angry today:

1) Blogs not having new posts. I realize you're on vacation but I. Don't. Care. I'm the reader. I couldn't care less if you haven't slept or had time off in six weeks. Your problem. I want something entertaining to read.

2) People not answering their phones. Don't you know I'm in need of a good venting? What's the deal with being able to sense that and refusing to pick up the phone? Rationally I realize people could be, oh I don't know, working, but that does not mean I can't slam the phone down with added oomph, does it?

3) Cavities. I've never had one. I went to the dentist today and he said I had one. My first ever. I'm seriously debating getting a 2nd opinion. Is that a proper procedure for a cavity diagnosis? Can dentists be wrong?

4) My skin. I can't decide if my skin has had a nervous breakdown (the one I'm holding at bay with diet coke and tootsie rolls) or if the new lightbulbs I just put in my bathroom are extremely harsh. Either way, it's not pretty. All of a sudden I've got pores the size of the grand canyon. And why??? I wash and exfoliate and moisturize and spf and all those other skin-related verbs. I think I'm going to take out one of the lightbulbs and see how it looks then.

5) Discover card mail. I organized over a year's worth of bills/mail last night and Discover card beat everyone else at least 2 to 1. Why is that? I've never once opened one of the envelopes sent to me, so why send them? I click on the "don't send me mail" button online but it doesn't work. I even told the customer service people at Discover that I don't read the crap they send me - apparently to no avail. I also realized I need a new file cabinet. And that I like things organized.

*sigh* I feel a little better now.

Ha ha ha ha! Such as.

Poor Miss Teen South Carolina. I'm not sure she can ever live it down. As a result of her mind-numbing answer to the question of US kids not knowing where America is on a map (btw, where are these kids? who are they? I want to smack their parents and teachers.), this website was created. And it's freaking hilarious. Such as.

http://mapsforus.org/

If you're not laughing at this website, you're a badly-programmed robot.

Is it true all anti-gays are gays?

I don't know what's worse, confusing pedophilia with homosexuality or all the right-wing nutjobs who are adamently anti-gay, actually being gay.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070828/ap_on_go_co/craig_arrest

So this Senator Craig guy from Idaho (no, you da ho!) has been very adament about no gay marriages, no legal protection for discrimination based on sexual orientation, etc. Turns out he's gay, although he says he's not. He says he's only guilty of pleading guilty to a crime, not the actual crime itself. Apparently soliciting sex from other men in airport bathrooms does not make you gay. No sir. I'm not sure what it makes you - guilty of saying you're guilty of soliciting gay sex? - but it DOES NOT mean you're gay. Awesome. This is definite cookie-dough-has-no-calories-until-it's-cooked logic. I like it.

Note to self: the next old, white guy who obsesses over gay marriage is gay. I accept it, and so should they.

Holy Fucking Shit.

Bystanders watched as a woman was raped. I can't believe that's even a news story but there you have it. The story says a man walked up, observed, turned around, went the other, and put his hood up. Nice, eh? The article also says the security cameras see one woman looking out her door at least 3 times and doing nothing. Apparently the woman being raped knocked on the door of at least one apartment begging the guy inside to call the cops. I can't even believe this. So fucking sad.

http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2007/08/24/national/main3200634.shtml?source=RSSattr=U.S._3200634

I got two of these babies over the weekend at a sale at Urban Outfitters. 50% off clearance stuff. $10 each!! Now I have to find an affordable shade. I'm thinking of making a trip to IKEA to see what they have to offer. Worst case is that I get a cool shape and cover it wth a piece of fabric. Kind of like the IKEA hack down below. I'm thinking steel gray would look nice but maybe that's too dreary for a bedroom? I'm not sure...

IKEA hack:

http://ikeahacker.blogspot.com/2007/08/new-look-for-lampan-lamp.html

Cancer sucks.

I'm not into praying or any of that jazz, but I do believe in the power of positive thought. I don't know if I can make much difference, but I'm definitely willing to try. Kara is the sister of one of my dearest friends, Jean. It sounds so lame to say it, but I hope she gets better soon.

http://prayforkara.blogspot.com/

Stolen material better than my own...

I blatently stole this idea from Limewire's Music blog, but it's Limewire, right? Isn't stealing what I'm supposed to do there? Here's the link to the original blog, lest I be accused of not citing my sources: http://blog.limewire.com/archives/2007/08/14/indie-rock-baseball/

Here's their blog:

Indie Rock Baseball
By Jens Carstensen

While listening to Interpol’s Our Love to Admire with a friend of mine, we devised a way to turn album reviews into a fun little game. We appropriately titled the method ‘Indie Rock Baseball.’ Here’s how it works:

* You start with two outs and no one on base.
* Each time you skip to the next track without finishing the one you were listening to, that’s a strike.
* Each time you finish a song, that’s a ball.
* Each time you actually *like* a song, that’s a hit. Naturally. Or a single, if you prefer. This also resets the count (as would four balls). Now you would have a runner on. Another hit (or walk) would advance the runner, etc.
* Once a record reaches three strikes, it’s OUT. Of your CD player (or preferred music player).
* Otherwise, you post the result (e.g. 1 run, 2 left on base).

For instance, Our Love to Admire, sporting ridiculous amounts of “empty church” reverb, struck out after four pitches. Of course, the 2nd song is titled “No ‘I’ in Threesome”, which probably should’ve gotten it tossed faster than Lou Pinella on a 100-degree day.


Now to my review of Regina Spektor's album (Begin to Hope) vs. Kelly Clarkson's new album (My December) in this new, fancy baseball way (although I'll admit it's not really a contest):

Top of the whatever inning: Spektor's up to bat and there are:
2 outs, no one on base - 1) Fidelity - listened to it all the way through, loved it
2 outs, person on 1st - 2) Better - listened to it all the way through, liked it
2 outs, person on 1st, 2nd - 3) Samson - listened to it all the way through, bordered on loved it
2 outs, bases loaded - 4) On the Radio - love the music, like the lyrics, miss a catchy hook, end up moving on before it's over, although I stuck through most of it
2 outs, bases loaded, 1 strike - 5) Field Below - nice but I'm not in a sad mood so I skipped it
2 outs, bases loaded, 2 strikes - 6) Hotel Song - like more than a little
2 outs, person on 2nd and 3rd, 1-0 - 7) Apres Moi - like it in theory, too Russian in practice, skip
2 outs, person on 2nd and 3rd, 1-0, 1 strike - 8) 20 Yes of Snow - beautiful piano opening - love everything about it
2 outs, bases loaded, 1-0 - 9) That Time - reminds me a conversation I'd have with a friend but with better music. Love.
2 outs, person on 2nd and 3rd, 2-0 - 10) Edit - skip - too deep for me (sadly)
2 outs, person on 2nd and 3rd, 2-0, 1 strike - 11) Lady - would love it on a clean house, candles burning kind of night but as is, I skipped it after listening to most of the lyrics and getting depressed
2 outs, person on 2nd and 3rd, 2-0, 2 strikes - 12) Summer in the City - like (but alas, no more scores)

Total: 2 runs scored, 3 left on base


Bottom of whatever inning: Clarkson's up to bat:
2 outs, no one on base - 1) Never Again - I've heard this on the radio and like it okay.
2 outs, person on 1st - 2) One Minute - kind of like the produced, electric pop sound but like most KC songs, the middle sags, skip
2 outs, person on 1st, 1 strike - 3) Hole - now it's heavier guitar-infused sound... like the transition - like but could do without another "shut up" lyric
2 outs, person on 1st and 2nd - 4) Sober - Apparently this arrangement has 7 violinist, 4 cellists (the plural of cello is celli, fyi), a double bass, and three different saxophones (alto, tenor, and baritone) and they all really come through about 2/3rds into the song. I dig it.
2 outs, bases loaded - 5) Don't Waste Your Time - eh, skip
2 outs, bases loaded, 1 strike - 6) Judas - I'm tempted to skip based on the name but we'll see - nope, tiresome at best, should have stuck with my instincts, skip
2 outs, bases loaded, 2 strikes - 7) Haunted - okay. I won't skip it but I'm not sure I'd seek it out afterwards. It reminds me of a lot of things on her 2nd album.
2 outs, person on 2nd and 3rd, 1-2 - 8) Be Still - again with all the strings. Like but very tame.
2 outs, bases loaded, 1-2 - 9) Maybe - I almost want to skip this based on the lyrics alone.
2 outs, bases loaded, 1-2, 1 strike - 10) How I Feel - skip
2 outs, bases loaded, 1-2, 2 strikes - 11) Yeah - I wouldn't skip this one but I hate the lyrics.
Inning Over

Result: Regina Spektor wins 2-1 - big surprise. It wasn't actually as close as the score looks. I bought the Kelly Clarkson cd to show her some support, due to the whole Clive Davis debacle but I'm not sure I'll listen to it very much.

Maybe tomorrow I'll do the new Tegan and Sara.

New Music Recommendation (New to Me)

I'm a little late to Regina Spektor (Begin to Hope came out in June 2006), but damn she's good.

Each song gets a little better everytime I listen to it. Someone said she was the next Sarah Maclaughin but I think she's better than that. I was/am? a SM fan, so no judgment here, but her lyrics are smarter and laced with something a little stronger than heartache and bad coffee (all good things, no doubt).

I think she plays the piano in most of her songs, because 1) she was classicly trained in piano according to amazon, 2) there's a lot of piano in each song, and 3) no one else is credited in jacket. I wouldn't say any of her songs are happy, per se, as a matter of fact most of the lyrics are pretty sad, but the music is so happy, lively, and dare I say quirky? that there's nothing depressing about the songs themselves.

I could go into intimate detail with each song, but I'll leave that thrill to the listener. Check her out. You can listen to one of the songs here: http://www.spinner.com/2007/07/15/women-who-rock-right-now-no-5/

I'd just like to say

Hi John-Michael!!

Especially since you (he) are/is the only one reading this. I really am shocked that you haven't seen The Burbs.

Recreating Anthro

Beautiful, eh? But guess how much for the total look? (I'm only referring to the top half.) $314. $314!! That's crazy. But it's so, so pretty. I guess the key is to find the "look" for less. Aside: whatever happened to that show? Here's my attempt:

$58 at Urban Outfitters. I think the shape is pretty similar, as is the color. I might even like the multi-colored effect of this one better. I'd have to try it on to see if it look as good unbuttoned though...

$4.49 at Target. I'd prefer something with a sweetheart neck, like the original pic, but a v-neck will do (or whatever this is).

$32.80 at Forever 21. I'm not 100% feeling this top as an adequate substitute, and, depending on it's sheerness, it probably nullifies the need for the cami underneath.

So if I go with my recreated outfit, I've dropped the total from $314 to $95.29 - not too shabby. If I decide to just replace the sweater and cami and get the lace shirt from Anthro, I'm looking at $180.49 - still an ouch. I guess I'll have to keep looking - or wait for a sale.

The trials and tribulations of random thoughts.

Two things:

1) My left eye muscle appears to be permanently strained from having to go to all the trouble of staying open. I know that's not technically "lazy eye" but damn! you'd think blinking would be enough of a workout for eyes to at least not convulse during the act of being awake.

2) I went downstairs in my office to seek out the much beloved caffeine and I smelled pancakes. Pancakes! At work? It was insane. Insanely yummy, that is. Not to mention that last night I saw a Frasier where someone discussed adding bacon to the batter of the pancake and how amazing it is.

I think the world is telling me I need to eat yummy, wonderful pancakes and then go take a nap. I'm okay with the world today.

Annoyance is contagious.

So J told me she was annoyed by a few things at work and I thought, "shew, thank goodness I'm having a good day." And I am. But then I got back to work and I started noticing things. Annoying things. Here they are, in no order of importance:

1. People who can't walk in shoes. If the heels are too high ladies, if you're creating a science experiment because you can't lift your feet when you walk, or if your shoes are plain old ill-fitting, don't wear them. I've seen one woman in particular in my building shuffling around in very high wedge slides. The woman cannot walk in them to save her life. So instead she shuffles down the hallway with itsy, teeny, weeny, little steps and spends an hour going to the elevator. Annoying.

2. Redundancy. If you've asked me 2, 3, even 4 times if I'm attending the conference, I probably am. Please don't put a note in my chair asking for yet another confirmation for a "final head count." I believe that's what you told me the last 3 times you asked me. It's a waste of time and incredibly, painfully annoying.

3. Getting new license plates. This is annoying on many different levels. One, I hate putting them on. Two, I already had the old ones memorized. Why should I be punished for be fiscally responsible and keeping my car past its prime? Three, if one were to say, memorize another person's license plates, and then that person were to get new license plates, that could, theoretically, mess up one's notice of whether one's big boss is at work or not. Let's just quit the whole new license plate thing shall we?

ET is good.

The Paramount downtown (8th and Congress) does the Summer Classic Film Series every summer and it's probably my favorite thing about summer in this town. Saturday afternoon I saw ET. I'd forgotten how much I love that movie. It makes me cry about halfway in and I don't stop until the credits start rolling. It's the first movie I ever cried during while I was a kid.

One thing I noticed about the movie is how perspectives change. When I was a kid I was completely convinced the doctors and scientists were the bad guys who were killing ET. I guess as a kid I trusted the kid in the movie (Elliott) and totally believed him to be the source of TRUTH. As an adult, I see the movie and think the doctors and scientists were just trying to help ET, not kill him, and they didn't make him "die," it was just what was happening to him after he'd been exposed to our germs, been away from home too long, or whatever.

I loved the scenes at the beginning where the older brother and his friends were playing a game (although I didn't figure out which one) at the kitchen table in what looked like a smoke-filled room (really the kitchen with weird lighting). It reminded me of the 80s when I was little and used to beg my older brother to let me play with him and his friends. He never let me either.

One more noticeable fact: the mom left the little daughter (Gerty? Drew Barrymore's character - so freakin' cute!) at home by herself while she went to go pick up Elliott at school. Parents would never do such a thing today, right? But I distinctly remember my mom leaving me at home alone on Saturday mornings when she went to the grocery store. I couldn't have been much older than 4 or 5, so what gives? I guess kids now are more likely to set fire to their houses than we were. Or maybe they're smarter and know how to unlock doors and run out in the middle of the street. Beats me. Good thing I don't have kids.

To err is to bike...

Listen, I have no problem with bikers. I understand that some people find it annoying that they wear advertisers on their shirts, especially when said shirts were purchased at Academy and the bikers are wearing them while they're speeding down the neighborhood streets, but I don't really care.

I think it's dumb of bikers to bike down major highways and busy roads but again, no big deal. As a matter of fact, I'm not even seriously bothered by bikers running the red lights and stop signs. I understand it's hard to start and stop again. I get it.

But what I have a problem with is a situation that occurred this morning while I was driving into my building's parking garage at work. I turned right (in my car) onto a one-way street. I encountered a biker going the wrong way on the one-way street and had to wait for him to pass the opening of my garage so I could turn in. Once again, I didn't really care - until. Until he started bad mouthing me for... for looking at him? for following traffic rules? I'm not sure. But he was definitely shooting obscenities in my direction while he was biking the wrong way down a one way street.

Is it necessary to be angry when you're in the wrong? I realize some people see no other way of dealing with situations but please. I was so tempted to slowly edge my car up and scare the biker bugger. It would have been funny. And if I would have been an angrier person, like G for instance, I would have stopped the car and confronted the annoying biker. Luckily I was too tired to give a rat's ass and thought I'd get him back by blogging about his absurdity in my online outlet that no one reads. That'll show him.

Madness

I could really live without the budget minded folks screaming, via the internet, that I MUST HAVE A ROTH IRA THIS SECOND!!! You want to induce panic in me? Scare me into thinking I'm pissing away my hard-earned money by buying pretty things to adorn my body and home. Besides, I don't have $4,000 to put into an IRA every year. Stop harassing me with your well-intentioned budget blogs, damn internet!

So I have this friend.

We'll call him Pissy Pants, PP for short. PP is a single, successful guy (successful in the career world, not anything else). With a little help he could be better than average looking. He's not there all the time yet but he has his moments. Unfortunately his skillz with the ladies are, shall we say, lacking?

PP calls me yesterday and tells me, yet again, that another girl likes him waaay more than he likes her. Finally, and without much ado, I call bullshit. I explained that it's not that I don't believe he believes what he's saying, it's that I believe his perception is off. He didn't take too kindly to this bit of truth telling, but the cold, hard truth is that it's true.

Examples of PP's "girls who like him waaay more than he likes them" are girls who he makes out with one night (never gets to home or anything), he converses with over IM, and who maybe, possibly suggest going out some other time or perhaps kiss him in a 2nd drunken incident. The girls inevitably disappear from his famous IM screen within a few weeks (they stop talking to him), and no drama is involved.

Boys, here's a hint: girls are sometimes like boys. Occasionally they like to fool around with someone they find mildly interesting, either through their personality or their looks, usually with some amount of adult beverages involved, and it doesn't mean anything. Or, at the very least, it doesn't mean they want to have your babies.

Further, just because you're not picturing spending the rest of your life with the cute hottie you just made out with at the bar doesn't mean she likes you any more than you're liking her. She probably has no thoughts of you beyond a potential void filler while she's waiting around for someone who she wouldn't dream of having drunken antics with on the first date.

I wouldn't be writing about this except that PP called me seeking advice on why he didn't like Girl A (the one he made out with) but was strangely attracted to Girl B (someone he's known a long time and never thought about romantically but shows up to The Party with The Boyfriend). And when I gave my advice (aka blunt opinion), he bristled. So PP? Get over yourself. The sooner the better. If you start thinking about women as human beings and not "jugs," you might have a lot more luck in finding that one you might, possibly, maybe think about when your IM screen is closed.

Duuuuuude

I just got shafted. The secretaries at work just uninvited me to a birthday lunch. No shit. Here I was thinking I was one of the "real peeps" of the office, not just one of the stuck up lawyers. Maybe it's time I take my head out of my ass and accept the fact I am who I hate. It's probably simpler that way. No introspection needed, right? I already know all the facets of everything I hate. If I am that person, there's no need to ever look deep down inside again. I kind of like that. Maybe I secretly love that which I loathe. Interesting...

Technology Etiquette

I'm not a Miss Manners or Emily Post by any means but some things are just rude, ya know? I'm on this kick after reading an article on cnn.com, which listed some of the most common faux pas.

Here are mine:

1.) Answering a cell in the middle of a conversation, as a general rule. Of course I understand there are exceptions to this - waiting on an important call, a 911 from your parents, etc., but please don't make it a habit to answer you phone at dinner with friends and hold a whole conversation at the table. Get up, walk away, and apologize to your dinner companions, your conversation companions, whatever. First of all, I don't want to hear you talk with someone else. Second, talking in the middle of a group disables the group from continuing the conversation. Third, it's just rude.

2.) Texting. Man I hate texters. I understand text messages are convenient and it does take away from the aforementioned rude call, but keep it to yourself. There are, again, exceptions. If you're out with a group and another member of the group texts you to find out where you are, cool. But put the phone away. Your entertainment is the group of people you're with, not the phone. And please don't text when I'm talking to you. I have never understood how people think it's okay to have a texting conversation going on at the same time as a verbal conversation. You don't want to talk to me? Okay. But don't text someone else and pretend you still want to carry on with me. Choose one or the other. It would be like reading a book in the middle of an outing, a conversation, or a dinner - weird and obstructive.

3.) Loud cellphone talkers/rings. I know half the population is deaf but should the other half of us have to suffer? My own mother is a violater of this rule. Her cellphone ring is so loud you can hear it in another county. And her ring is the Kentucky state song, which makes no sense since she's from Texas and has no ties to Kentucky. It's especially annoying. I used to hate people talking on blue tooths or hands-free, because I'd get all confused and assume they were talking to me only to realize they weren't. Very embarassing on my part, you see. But I've accepted those things. I simply cannot accept the loud talker/rings though. Turn the volume down already. If you must yell, do it in the privacy of your own car.

In conclusion, be aware. I don't care if you're isolating yourself from nature by wearing an ipod down the street, and I don't care if you spend 99% of your time with a phone to your ear. But for the love of god, keep me out of it, okay?

Girls Night Out!

Tonight is the First Annual Girls' Night Out! Or First bi-monthly? Monthly? Whatever. I haven't had an official Girls' Night in ages. I can't wait. I'm wearing a pretty dress, shaving my legs, putting on eyeliner, and maybe I'll do more than simply brush my hair. It's a big night for me. I thought about painting my fingernails, but that's way too much effort. That kind of grooming is going way too far.

We're going to a fancy restaurant for dinner, possibly hitting up a cheap bar for cheap drinks, and then we're going to dance/bar hop the night away. However did I use to do this 4 nights out of the week? I was insane.

I'll update with details of the debauchery, unless it gets too, too crazy and we don't want any record of the night.

Annoyance is a virtue - or something like that.

G says I'm disgruntled, as a general rule. Perhaps he's right, although I'm loathe to admit it. But seriously - notes in my chair at work? That's just asking for trouble. J sent me a link to http://www.passiveaggressivenotes.com and I think this note pretty much sums it up:



I should not be held responsible for polite requests in my chair to write memos on conversations I've yet to have. A request like that is just asking for postal service treatment.

And I thought I was a smart ass.

According to this site, http://www.someecards.com/, I'm not. I'm not even close to being nearly as funny as I thought I was. Hilarious.

I hope she doesn't go blind.

J's having lasik today. Good luck! I hope you can still see me in all my stunningly beautiful glory after it's all said and done.

Don't worry. If worse comes to worse I'll read the next Harry Potter book out loud to you, just so you know what happens.

Stupid email coupons...

I hate when online retailers send you bogus coupons. The subject says "20% off" and I'm all excited. Yes! I want 20% off. So I take the time to open the email and scroll down, only to realize that it's 20% off a purchase of $100 or more. I do not want to spend $100, hence the excitement at the 20% off, especially at the Gap where I'm pretty sure I could buy everything in the whole store for $100. (Of course I'm just kidding about being able to purchase the whole store - I know I'd have to wait a week for it all to go on sale.) Know thy audience, online retailers!

Enjoying Veronica Mars - again.

My girlfriends and I have started a Veronica Mars Tuesday night... thing. We call it Veronica Mars Tuesdays. Shut up. Sometimes obvious beats creative.

We watch 3 episodes at a time and I'm the only one that's seen them before. I love listening to everyone guess about who raped Veronica, who killed Lily, etc. They're all wrong, of course, but it's great fun. And I realize how dumb I was the first time I watched the show, because I never even thought to guess who did what. I pretty much assumed I had no clue and left it at that. My friends are also very talented guessers. They haven't got anything right yet, but they do notice some of the more subtle clues. I'm impressed - and maybe a little frightened. Remind me never to underestimate the intelligence of my girls.

B missed it, so I told her she had to catch up on www.televisionwithoutpity.com. We'll see if she's up to snuff next week.

I freakin' love that show. I hate the CW for canceling it. I can only hope that the new comic book series will be great, and that Rob Thomas follows through with his movie idea. I'd love to see our dear Veronica in 10 years. I have a sneaking suspicion that she and I would have a lot in common. Except for the girl detective part. And probably a lot of pop cultural references. But other than that? Twins, baby.

A New Start

I can’t afford a good therapist (at least not longer than 6 sessions, which is the insurance mandated maximum and apparently just long enough to get on drugs and see how you “take” to them), so I’m starting over here. Hopefully this will be an exercise of proper displacement and I can exude all my lackluster sarcasm and constantly recurring negativity out “there.” And if no one reads this, well, that’s potentially the story of my life so it’s not a huge loss in the grand scheme of things.

I reserve the right to come back and edit this at will, as I’m certain I’ll be horrified (as my mood-inducers determine) at some of my musings. So if you want to blackmail me, I suggest you copy and paste.

I watched The Goonies last night. I got it on sale at Target last week (or the week before?) for $7.50. I can afford DVDs at that price. Only it seems I got what I paid for. It paused through a large portion of the movie. It didn’t skip, it would just pause for moments at a time, whenever it felt like it, apparently at points specifically designed to cause maximum irritation. The DVD, however, grossly underestimated my laziness. It wasn’t just that I was too lazy to move my hand to the side table and grab the remote. No, there was more to it than that. See, to turn off the movie meant I had to replace it with TV. That meant I’d have to scroll through all the basic cable channels to find something I could stand to have on in the background. As I hate most things forensic related, and I’m not a movie-of-the-month-fan, that leaves me with MTV or the History Channel. Further, I was upstairs and I don’t get MTV up there. (Actually I do get it but I’m not about to stare through the fuzz long enough to figure out what the wrong color is for a Range Rover for this week’s birthday bash. Non-fuzzed version? Yeah, I’d tune in for that.) So History Channel, right? Only if it’s about WWII or Nostradamus or tools or some such nonsense, I’m not interested. Which leaves me back to scrolling through the numerous channels. See? I’m a thoughtful lazy person. It’s not simply about pointing a remote – it’s about mental stimulation.

My point is that I want to take the Goonies DVD back to Target but I’m not sure I have the receipt. I just want to replace it with an exact copy since my copy doesn’t work very well. The only problem is that I returned a couple DVDs for G a few months ago to Target without a receipt. Apparently they keep your name for stuff like that and only allow so many per year. I knew helping out G would screw me in the end. (I’m lovely like that.)

I think I’ll go through all my plastic Target bags that I have stashed under my sink to see if the receipt is in the abyss somewhere. It’s only $7.50, right? You’d think someone with my mountain of debt would look at something so trivial and not worry but you’d be wrong. I only spend mightily and without caution on things that costs gazillions of dollars. If I can buy it at Target, I’m examining every nook and cranny of that baby to make sure it’s perfect. If I went to a doctor on a regular basis, I’d like to think he or she would name something after me.