the bloggess

Friday was the most bizarre day of my life.

If you check my blog frequently (which I'm pretty sure no one does anymore) you'll notice that my most recent post, titled "Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens" has been deleted. At the end of that post, I mentioned that I'd found a new blog that I thought was funny. And, in the process of commending that blog, I said some mean things about another, similar one - thebloggess.com.

I published that post on Thursday. Friday afternoon, while I was at the gym, I got a notification that Jenny The Bloggess had commented on my post.

I died.

Let me give you some perspective... Jenny has over 60,000 followers on Twitter and is pretty famous among humor bloggers. Everyone links to her. Look, even I'm going to link to her.

And she commented on my blog.

On a post where I called her "depressed," "passive-aggressive," and not at all funny.

Yes, I died. I couldn't even read what she said, I texted Scott and made him do it instead. But as it turns out, she wrote a comment which was actually nice! She said "Huh, I don't find my humor very pleasing either. We should be friends."

My mind was pretty blown and I finished my workout in a daze. As I walked home I mentally composed an apology email and tried desperately to get a grip. When I got home I checked her blog and her twitter to see what she was saying. She didn't blog about it, but she did tweet about me a little. I couldn't quite tell if she was angry or not but I could not calm down until I emailed her a lengthy, comprehensive, and self-deprecating email.

And then...

She wrote back! And she was SO nice. She said that she wasn't mad at all, she wasn't trying to mess with me and she finished by saying "we're cool." I died again, in a good way.

This is my summary of the situation:

1. The bloggess is the nicest person ever, in the whole world. I was mean to her, and she was NICE to me. I am her fan now. I'm also going to tell people we're friends even though that's a bit of a stretch.
2. Apparently the internet isn't the vast abyss I'd assumed. The things I say can find their way into the wrong place. I'm debating deleting my Felicity post, since I don't want Keri Russell getting upset that I said her head was small. (But her head IS small, there's no doubt about that.)
3. SOMEONE OUT THERE SENT A LINK TO THE BLOGGESS. And since my readership is my mom, sister, boyfriend, Cristy, approx 2 friends, and 2 of my mom's friends...WHO THE HELL WAS IT? Fess up. Please?

Live Blogging "The New Adventures of Old Christine" tonight at 9pm!

Lots of bloggers, I've noticed, do this thing they call "live blogging" wherein the watch something on TV like the Oscars or Project Runway, and they blog their thoughts in real time. It's like hanging out with friends without having to put on a bra. Generally I hate live blogging and never follow it, which is why I'm doing it tonight and subjecting you to my boringness. The ooooone catch is that this is a DVRed episode of "Christine" so it's not actually live. At all.

Also I'll just take this opportunity to say, shut up if you're laughing at me for watching this show. I caught my first episode at the gym last week and found it predictable, stupid, and surprisingly hilarious. The plot is incomprehensible, the acting is really artificial, and the sets are cheap looking. But about twice an episode, one of the characters comes out with A REAL ZINGER that leaves me laughing to myself for hours. I spent most of Friday shouting to Scott, "Did you enjoy the singing, Mother Campbell?!" and then convulsing in hysterics while he looked at me with that wistful "Why am I dating this monkey?" look that I know so well.

Now, let's begin.

-- The episode is called "Snakes on a Date" and the summary says "Christine agrees to a date with a children's entertainer who specializes in reptile parties, hoping to help Ritchie get into the Reptile Club." Oh shenanigans, I await you!

-- Ok first commercial break. Time to type. I think I'm kind of missing out on the hilarity at hand because I'm concentrating too hard. "Christine" is best enjoyed by a half-distracted mind. Summary until now: Christine's BFF Wanda Sykes owns a gym, where Christine apparently works? Who knew. And Wanda is featured in a black women's magazine and suddenly a lot of black women join the gym. Christine pretends she doesn't know they're black. Why? Don't know. Also her Asian inspired t-shirt and necklace are muy heinous.

-- There is no time line in this show. Days have no boundaries. If you don't carefully watch Christine's outfits you will get really confused. But if you pay TOO much attention to outfits you'll also get confused, because sometimes they forget to change Richard and Matthew's shirts.

-- LOL. Christine tries to say "right back" to the new black members and she says "I'll be white black. Whiiiite. White black. Black. I'll be white black."

-- Ummm I'm beginning to suspect this is not the episode "Snakes on a Date." There has been no mention of reptiles yet and I have not glimpsed Ritchie.

-- God this was the worst episode ever.

winter is hard

Winter is hard, because there's so much TV to watch. It really eats into the time I set aside for "responsible stuff" and makes me realize how bad I am at prioritizing when I have to choose between writing papers, going to the gym, and watching Modern Family. Thank god I don't work full time.

I made this flow chart to help with decision making:

i was doing so well for a while

I posted so many blog entries in August...and then I kind of fell off the wagon. Literally, I fell asleep while Pa was driving, and now I'm all bruised up and dusty, and no one even noticed I was gone, so now I'm alone here on the Oregon Trail trying not to die of diarrhea. No I'm kidding, I fell of the wagon figuratively. I'm an alcoholic again, it prevents me from blogging. Actually there have been no wagons (covered, AA, or otherwise), I'm just lazy and boring.

Here's something I made for a class over the summer. It's just a bunch of pictures stolen from Flickr that I photoshopped together and Palette-Knife-Filtered, but I think it looks cool.

i copy awesome stuff and hang it in my house

I saw this thing on the internet once...
[click here to see the thing]
...and I really liked it. But no way am I going to pay that price, right? I'd rather die. So I made my own for approx $40!

And don't anyone dare to correct my geography on this thing, I know it's kind of crap and I just have given up on caring.

Felicity Season Two: An Exercise in TRYING To Get Canceled: How Bored Can We Make Our Viewers Before They Stop Viewing?: David Sucks.

I've mentioned before that I am rewatching every episode of the 4 seasons of Felicity on DVD right now. The first season was SO good. I love that season. Felicity is so innocent, wearing those giant heinous sweaters and saying the most embarrassing things to Ben, and then secretly falling in love with Noel. Every episode is hilarious and precious and just so...felicitous.

Cut to the second season...aka, cut my head off. O.M.God. Every time I see Felicity (which is just about every single scene), I make like a Mexican Jumping Bean and lay on the bottom of my plastic cup playing dead while my owner rattles me around and whines, "MOOOOOOMMMM!" This haircut hurts my soul, and it has NOTHING to do with the pixie cut I sported to ring in the new millennium. Really, she just styles it SO badly. I love how the writers sneakily made every character mock her for the stupid thing in the first episode.

But more than that, Season 2 is shitty because it just IS. Hello Felicity - strip off those tight ribbed tank tops and paisley button-downs and replace them with some @%$&()$@##&^ SWEATERS! Break it off with Big-Head McLong-Face and get with Noel, like we all know you want to. Julie, drop the "I'm a hurt girlfriend" act, resume your BFFing with The Feliss, and hop on that Sean love-train. Elena and Meghan, keep being awesome. Noel, good work on YOUR haircut, you look great. Ben, hottie mc-amazing whaaaaaat, you just stand there silently in that leather jacket while I go get you a wheelbarrow for your Emmy's.

Also, Felicity's head is just SO small. How laughable is it when she's making out with Big-Head David? That's another reason she needs her hair back - to disguise the concord grape she's been using as a skull.

Lookin' Fresh

Just in case you guys weren't sure whether or not I was awesome as a kid, here's proof that I WAS.

This is how you can tell:
1. Mullet
2. Pierced ears
3. Purple glasses
4. Teal mock turtleneck with chic black felt detailing - so fly

Thanks Cristy.

As promised...

I'm an Internet Predator

Leave me alone, Shaq. Not that kind. (Referencing this for those of you who don't spend your entire workday memorizing the internets like I do.)

Sometimes when I find a blog that I really like, I start stalking the writer. Hardcore for realsies. This week it's Kim Hutt from www.whatclaudiawore.com. I'm reading through the archives of her personal blog today. Why do I find this interesting, for serious? I don't know this person, yet I'm voluntarily reading her personal musings for HOURS on end. There is something wrong with me. Anyway, she wrote this about 5 months ago about her relationship with her boyfriend Brian. And I'll be damned if she and Brian are not soul sisters with me and Scott, because we actually USE the term "crazypants" on an hourly basis. I want to email her and see if she calls him "nutburger" too because that would be just TOO much. Read:

I just finished telling B. he could not buy a motorcycle because I do not want to have to explain to our hypothetical child that Daddy died because he wouldn’t listen to Mommy about how he didn’t need a fatboy. Now he’s singing the “no one cares, you really don’t care, I really want a motorcycle” song, which I highly suspect is NOT A REAL SONG.

I could write about the times that we stare into each other’s eyes and talk about how nauseatingly happy we are - cause they happen too, it’s not just him accusing me of being (and I quote) “crazypants” - but who wants to read about that? It’s way more fun to write about the times he accuses me of being the live embodiment of Liz Lemon and I shriek at him that it’s not my fault I like working on my night cheese.

Ken's Joys

Somewhere in the never-ending grasslands of my childhood is a bookstore called "Ken's Joys." That name is just so typical for Lancaster County it makes my skin crawl. (And by that I mean that people from Lancaster County are very earnest and sincere; they completely lack awareness of snark, wit, and sarcasm; they are pleased by the simplest things of life and don't know enough to be embarrassed by that in this dark, cold world of ours.) Anyway, I met Ken once, he was either a deeply closeted homosexual or a bit slow. Since I don't think that the mentally slow are often given small business loans with which to open book stores, I'm going to go with homosexual. (Another parenthetical thought - I love the gays and do not equate homosexuality with a mental deficiency. It was just this one specific case where I felt like something was "off" with Ken and I wasn't sure if it was a hidden identity or if he got dropped on his head.)

Anyway, Ken's a weird cat but the name of his store has always stuck with me.

Here are a few of my joys:

1. www.whatclaudiawore.com is the best blog OF MY LIFE. OF MY LIFE! I was such a bookwormish kid, and I adored the Babysitter's Club with all my heart, and this blog is just everything I never knew I needed in my life.
2. I've been slowly rewatching Felicity on DVD and LOVING it. So many good quotes. A sampling for your pleasure: "We're not here to talk about your hair, Felicity." "Ok, well just give me back my Sarah MacLachlan CD and we'll be even."

I thought there would be more but I guess that's it. Hmm. Whatever, those joys are enough for today.

Oh also, inspired as I am by Ann M. Martin's catalog of genius, I'm thinking of writing my own young adult lit. Would that not be the most amazing thing ever? Send me your ideas.

Sam Jams

Today, being the homemaker Sally that I totally am (not), I jammed. Strawberry-Lime jammed, to be exact. You should taste my kitchen floor/counters/stovetop! Deeeeelish. And would you LOOK at how cute!

Recipe:

Wash and sterilize your jars/lids. Clean 4 containers of strawberries. Put them in a giant pot, mash them up, add 4 cups of sugar and a whole thing of lime juice (the kind in the little plastic container). If you don't love lime flavor like I do, add less. It does come out really limey. Mash everything together and bring to a boil. Add 1 tablespoon of butter. Continue boiling until it gets thick enough to be considered jam. Stir continuously to avoid burnage. When it's done cooking, spoon into jars and add lids. Voila! No canning required - there's so much sugar in these puppies that they're shelf-stable for 4 months on their own. The recipe filled 8 small canning jars.

Optional - add cute tags, hand out generously, and blush modestly when complimented. :)

Tuesdays are never good

Tuesdays have always always always been my least favorite day of the week.

When Cassie and I were little, Mom used to work until 2:30 every day and then pick us up from school...except for TUESDAYS. On Tuesdays she worked until 5, and we had to go to Nana's or a babysitter's house after school. And we HATED it.

At summer camp, Tuesdays were the worst because it wasn't the first day anymore (Monday) and it wasn't the halfway mark yet (Wednesday). It was just a terrible beginning day. I hated camp, can you tell? But I kept going back anyway - the workings of my childhood mind baffle me.

In college, Tuesdays were bad because of our class schedule. M/W/F classes were 1 hour long, and T/TH classes were 1.5 hours long. Tres boring. But Tuesdays were worse than Thursdays because at least on Thursdays, it's like "Almost weekend! Yeah! Let's go to the bar tonight!" or, more accurately in my case, "Almost weekend! Yeah! Tonight I'm going to fall asleep at 8:30 watching a rerun of The Office but that's okay because I like it like that!"

Now Tuesdays are the worst because I have class from 4-9:15. Today what I really want to do is go home, drink some coffee, read my book for a really long time, then make a delicious and nutritious dinner, then play Mario Kart. Then go to bed early because I'm tired today. But what I'll do instead is leave work, go to the gym, go straight to class, sit there angry and frustrated as I struggle to work iMovie, then have a probably disgusting dinner because we only get a 20 minute break (Lesley's policy is to give 45 minutes...but the instructor just sucks) and the only place close enough to get there and back in 20 minutes is a falafel joint, and I am SO sick of falafel. Like, I'd rather starve. Then after class I'll go home, arrive around 9:45, shower and fall asleep immediately.

Tuesdays are never good to the ole Sam Beam.

The only thing good about Tuesdays is the song...GOOOOOOODBYE, RUBY TUESDAY! WHO COULD HANG A NAME ON YOU??????

If I can croon that all night maybe my spirits will not sink too low. Here are a selection of pictures that came up when I google image searched "Tuesday." They all prove that Tuesdays are the worst, in case you were wondering.

Shake it like a Polaroid picture

For my new (almost over) class I am making a stop motion animation video. Familiar? No? I wasn't really either until last night. The videos are made by taking lots of still photos, and then playing them one after another really fast to give the illusion of motion. Here are some insaaaane examples:









Mine won't be like this - A) It only has to be 30 seconds long, B) No way can I do anything that involved. I'll post whatever it is when it's finished!

stuffs

New knowledge:

1. I'm really good at embedding grooveshark into my blog.
2. I need a flickr account.
3. Chicken shawarma wraps from the falafel place by my school are kind of good and kind of weird.
4. If you go to qdoba.com and "build" a burrito to see the calorie information, you will discover that the tortilla is a MAJOR calorie hog and "naked" burritos are the better choice.
5. My bike's brakes don't work in the rain.

Now for some cute baby animals!

Thursday, July 8, The Year of Our Lord 2010

Let me tell you about my day, starting with last week.

Last Friday I was at the gym, running on the treadmill. My knees hurt a little, but no more than usual; I've always had pain in my knees. So I'm running on the treadmill and all is well. I get off, and begin to walk to what I call the "birthing machine" more commonly known as the leg abductor or something, and I take about 3 steps and suddenly feel a stabbing pain in my right knee. I was literally gasping from the pain and almost fell over. After hopping to the wall on my other leg and trying a few uncomfortable stretches, I come to the conclusion that my knee is permanently busted and begin sending numerous texts that say things like "I need surgery" and "SOS!" No one came to S my S or my suffering body though, and after a while the stabbing pain became more like a cramping pain and I figured I could bike home, which I did. Yadda yadda yadda, I hobbled around for the rest of the day, then woke up Saturday with zero pain and a smile on my face.

The smile lasted for 3 days and 22 hours, approximately. Because Tuesday, I decided I was healed enough to try the gym again (I rested for the weekend even though I felt fine) but apparently I was wrong. My knee cramped up again and I was back to hobbling. (Cramped up doesn't seem like an accurate description...it feels more like there's something pinched behind my knee cap.)

So, this morning, I wake up and I'm still hobbling, and I decide to call in sick to work. Mostly I didn't think I was up to walking 10 minutes to the T on one leg, and Cathy just told me yesterday how good of a worker I am, so I figured it was fine, and it was. All day long (and I've been awake since my alarm went off at 7:45, I couldn't go back to sleep) I've been reading and watching The Real Housewives of NYC. And I've come to some conclusions.

1. You would think that spending the day literally planted in one spot on your sofa would be slow and boring, but it's quite the opposite. I can't understand where the day has gone, and how it is now 8:20pm.

2. The Real Housewives of NYC really ONLY got interesting in the 3rd season. Today I watched 1.5 episodes of season 1 and it was like watching paint dry. Or like watching dusty old broads drink cocktails and play tennis, which is what it really is.

3. Even when I have a legitimate excuse, I will always feel guilty for using a sick day. Some time in the future I can see myself laying in a hospital bed with an IV and a nasty appendectomy scar, and I'll be saying, "Oh God, do you think my boss is mad that I didn't come in today?"

Anyway, back to my reading. It's this by the way - and excellent if I do say so myself.

i feel gross

Have you ever thought that you might die from eating too much meat? I did, last night.

Ricardo wanted to go to a Brazilian BBQ place that he loves and Scott dragged me along. Despite such descriptions as "They keep bringing meat to the table" and "All you eat is a lot of kinds of meat" I held on to my hope that Brazilian BBQ was essentially a Benihana/hibachi place. It was not logical for me to think that - Benihana is Japanese, not Brazilian. But Ricardo is both so maybe that's where I got my wires crossed.

Anyway...what Brazilian BBQ reeeeally is, is a restaurant where they offer you a weird buffet of "salad" items and french fries, and then waiters start bringing around meat on sticks and you say "Yes I want that" or "No get that away from me now." I ate SO. MUCH. MEAT.

To name a few of the meats offered... Pork ribs. Beef ribs. Chicken wrapped in bacon. Kielbasa. Sausage. Chicken hearts. Weird roast beefy stuff.

The damage:

wanted: pool. also wanted: backyard to put it in.

Oh, the heat. Oh, the terrible, terrible heat.

Caution: Wild times ahead

On Sunday night, Scott and I went to a raging James Taylor concert with this people:

We were by FAR the youngest people there and it was awesome. Some of the old farts were even smoking weed in the balcony. I can just imagine the scene a few days before the concert.

A portly husband (I'll call him Ted) comes home from work on a humid day, his forehead glistening with sweat and a nervous smile playing on his lips. His wife, Marny, is sitting at the kitchen table clipping coupons and looking through the Bed Bath and Beyond sale flyer for bargains on dorm essentials for their 18 year old, the last of their brood to head off to UNH in August. She doesn't look up as she greets Ted, but he hardly seems to notice, he's so jittery and excited about his news. "You're late," she says. "Yeah, I know," he spurts. "Marny, I got us somethin' for the big concert this weekend." "Huh?" she asks, barely listening. "Babe...look. I got the neighbor kid to sell me some reefer!" Marny lays down her coupons and gives Ted a penetrating look over her reading glasses, purchased on sale to perfectly match her favorite turquoise capri pants. "What are you talking about, Ted?" she says quietly. "Look!" he says again as he pulls the joint out of the pocket of his faded sport coat. "Look!" Marny feigns indifference, her face a mask of neutrality, but Ted knows she's excited to relive her youthful indiscretions one more time under the harsh lighting of the TD Banknorth Garden, with "You've Got a Friend" whisking them away to an easier time. Marny serves Ted an extra big helping of non-fat, sugar-free peach sherbet after dinner. It was going to be WILD.

Pardon the tangent...back to the concert:

Probs one of the best photos I've ever taken in my life.

James was so cute. I just love him so much. He played the concert wearing SLACKS...like a grandfather going to a special occasion. Carole King was also there (meh). I am not a big fan but she was kind of funny to watch. For a 68 year old she really gets down with the dance moves.

And on bass, James introduced a member of his original band... FATHER TIME.

That's all!

Shep has the farts today; I'm a stereotype.

http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/2009/12/22/130-ray-ban-wayfarers/

Hey Intel - don't steal these masterful plans!

I did one bad thing today (hit a biker with my car door) and one good thing today (helped Scott with his work!).

I'm like so good at computers and stuff and Scott was like totes magoats swamped, so he just asked me to step in and do a little computer designing for him. Here it is!

And he said that since I did such a fab tab job he would buy me this!!

No he didn't. I just want it really bad. Sad face.

slant face

All week I've been WAITING for Thursday to get here. Begging time to move faster. Doing a dance to appease the gods of the workweek.

This is why:

Sunday we drove from PA to MA, 6.5 hours. Immediately upon arriving home, I have to start working on my photo homework for Monday. Then I unpack, then I go to bed.

Monday I worked from 9-2, then went to the gym, then came home for about 45 minutes, then left for class. Was in class 5:30-10, got home around 11, went immediately to bed.

Tuesday I worked from 9-2, then went to Scott's house for a while because he was working from home. Hang out there for a while, get home around dinner time, start trying to do my Photoshopping for Wednesday...BIG PROBLEMS. Extreme frustration ensues, including cursing, crying, freaking out. (I lost of the files I had saved the night before, about 3 hours worth of work, AND my work laptop wouldn't upload pictures from my camera.) Work non-stop, forget to eat dinner, go to bed around 11:30, finished but pissed.

Wednesday, work as usual, then gym, then to Scott's house to put his spare car keys in his mailbox because he locked his keys inside the car at work, then home for 15 minutes, then back to class until 9:30. Home at 10:15, promptly to bed.

But Thursday...oh Thursday. No class. No homework, because we don't meet again until 6/28. Nothing! I was so excited to come home, watch Glee from Tuesday, bake lime bars, and generally just vegetize myself. Which I have done, and am continuing to do, except for one thing...

I'm bored. So bored. It's 7pm and I have nothing to do. Life is so hard sometimes.

Humbo is the best nickname I've ever made up

My art classes have historically been the best thing to ever happen to this blog. Remember this? Yep.

I'm taking another class now, on digital photo. I'm loving it and the people in it are significantly less weird than those in my metals class. But they're still kind of weird.

Anyway, we started last Wednesday with 6 students and 1 instructor. We met again Thursday with only 5 students and 1 instructor. We met last night (Monday - yeah, it meets 3 times a week, 5:30-10pm, it sucks) and there were only 3 students and 1 instructor. I'm getting nervous that soon we're going to be 1 student (me) and 0 instructors (because it probably isn't worth his time to teach so few students). I'll now describe everyone for you:

Ben - Instructor, appears to be an Asian blend, wears his hair in a frizzy pompadour style. Lisps. Frequently sneaks up behind me to offer help.

Blonde Girl - First one to drop the class. Had never used an SLR camera before and had clearly decided to quit about 10 minutes in, but had to suffer through the remaining 4 hours and 20 minutes before she could make her exit.

Humberto - Very talented, possibly gay, has a tattoo on his ankle of wavy lines. A little chubby. Took a photo for the first assignment of some weird kitchy bear on his desk at work, and told us it was given to him for doing "A really fantastic job under great stress."

Brunette Girl 1 - Has seemingly also dropped the class, but did a really good job on the first assignment. She looks like how I think I look until I actually look at myself. In my head I called her "Me 2.0" and don't know her real name.

Brunette Girl 2 - Not smart. Friendly, and has rounded out the trifecta of me and Humbo, but definitely not smart. Also has a tiny mouth.

Henry - I was glad when Henry didn't show up last night, though I feel guilty admitting it. He is the kind of person who has absolutely zero self-awareness. He talks non-stop about uninteresting things, tries to correct the instructor when he clearly doesn't know what he's talking about, pulls on the greasy hair of his beard when he's nervous (which seems to be always), and has scabby tattoos. I think he thought he'd be really good at photography because his dad is a professional photographer, but his first assignment proved him very wrong, and it was awkward for everyone.

Me - (I'll try to write this as an outside observer.) Shows up in gym clothes every day, and sometimes smells strongly of self-tanner. Keeps having problems with her lab computer and equipment. Answers questions a lot but is only right about half the time, probably only speaks up because she feels uncomfortable with silence in so small a group.

So, class is going pretty well and I'm really enjoying it. I'm finally learning to use Photoshop, thankfully, since I've been putting "Proficient at Adobe Suite" on my resume for a long time when really I'm only familiar with InDesign. I woke up last night to go to the bathroom and realized I had been DREAMING about editing photos, which is weird.

I'll keep updating as weirdness happens, which it probably will. (Humbo, the pressure's on you.)

Oh, and here's some of my work so far:

update

So I just finished The Last Days of Dogtown and...OMGod. Just...so good. It was a great story the whole way through, but the last chapter or two were really the best. I literally had tears in my eyes as I was reading on the T (at 10pm, in a burrito-stained t-shirt, by myself, covered in sweat...so needless to say, not looking hot and the tears didn't help much).

Anyway, take my word for it, this is a must-read.

Book Worm

I love books. Period. Here are some good really good ones:

All of David Sedaris' books are incredibly funny. I read this one immediately upon its release (about a year ago? 2 years?) and then reread it last month. I laughed just as much, if not more, the second time around. Here's a favorite quote: "And what about the butterfly, the colorful cousin of the moth? Are you afraid that he, too, will attack?"

Both Freakanomics and SuperFreakonomics were great reads and made me feel much smarter upon completion. And I'm already pretty self-satisfied when it comes to my intelligence, so now my head barely fits through doors.

Does anyone else remember that episode of The Office where Michael says that he's reading "the novelization of the movie Precious based on the novel Push by Sapphire"? Because it exists and I read it. It's actually kind of hard to just find Push these days - it's repackaged as Precious but still the same story. It's a hard read (emotionally) but well worth it.

Awesome story of a woman who goes to prison for a year for a crime she committed 10 years prior. It's funny and touching and really really good.

Probably one of my favorite books ever. This is the first of a series of 3 books (the last will be released in August), and you'll find them in the Young Adult section. Don't be put off by that, it's still a great story and I promise you'll love it.

Reading this now, hopefully finishing it today. Anita Diamant is just a great story teller (The Red Tent is another favorite) and this one is set in Gloucester, my former town of residence.

GO READ SOMETHING!

Brain exercise is just as important as physical exercise, and I do both every day. Don't you want to be as awesome as me?

asian kids are the cutest

I literally just searched YouTube for "cute kids dancing." Scott is watching hockey and I'm super bored, so don't you dare judge me.

Now WATCH!







("Go Jaden, tear it up girl!")

ok, NOW it's 100

I won't ask for your re-celebration because you've already given me so much. I'm just going to quietly acknowledge my 100th post by myself and wish I hadn't made such a big deal out of 99, because now 100 feels like the birthday everyone forgot. My bad.

Anyway, I kind of look like a pirate today. Here, I'll show you:

(me)

(Captain Jack Sparrow)

Don't see it? Ok let me help you out.

Likes, Dislikes, Guilty Pleasures, and my 99TH BLOG POST!

I got so excited when I opened up blogger today to start writing, because I thought that this was my 100th post. Unfortunately I realized that it is actually my 99th - I had one stubby draft that blogger was counting even though I never pressed "publish." But I'm already in the mood to celebrate, so let's all give a resounding "yay!" for me. 99 posts in a little over a year. Let's try to get me crowned queen of the internet, shall we?

Onto less important but potentially more interesting (to you) things... I've made some lists to share with the world. The first is products/habits/etc. that I advocate and want you to all try. The second is a similar list of things that I do NOT advocate and want you to specifically NOT try. The third, to end on a happy note, will be a list of guilty pleasures that you can try at your own risk.

Products/Habits/Things I Advocate:

1. Air conditioners turned on full blast, used in combination with a ceiling fan, in a closed room. Even in the bowels of the sweatiest summer, you can sleep blissfully snuggled in your bed covers. The best.

2. Also related to sleeping, but should be filed under the category "Prevention [comma] Acne" - sleeping with a new, clean hand towel on your pillow every night. It works AMAZINGLY well. As many of you know, I don't suffer from terrible acne, but have always been plagued with sporadic breakouts that seem to crop up at the worst possible times, and I've NEVER found a solution (over the counter or prescription) to get rid of them. Honestly, the towel thing works. Try it.

3. THIS COLOR and THIS COLOR.

4. Farmers markets.

5. Irises.

6. Basil.

7. Ruelala.com - last week alone, I bought a ski jacket (originally $300, I paid $99) and Scott bought a suit (originally $525, he paid $129).

Products/Habits/Things I DO NOT Advocate:

1. Harvard Pilgrim Student Health Insurance. I won't get into the nitty gritty, but essentially I lost years off of my life arguing with them on the phone this week. I had a routine procedure. They cover that procedure. They won't, however, pay my doctor for that procedure because they DON'T LIKE THE FORMATTING OF THE INVOICE. I'm not even kidding you. The formatting. So now I'm on the hook for $175?? Because of THE FORMATTING! So angry.

2. Proactiv. In my search for an acne remedy I succumbed to their sparkly Katy Perry commercials and ordered some. What I didn't realize was, they put all of their customers on an automatic refill plan, so the stuff just shows up on your doorstep whether you want it or not. I called to complain and they told me I could return it, but that I was responsible for the return shipping. I'm responsible to send back a product I didn't order? Give me a break. Proactiv is a scam.

3. Expired milk. Nuff said.

Guilty Pleasures:

1. Monster ballads.

2. The Hills.

3. Reading blogs of people I went to college with but were acquaintances at best, and now I know intimate details of their lives.

4. Using the paper cutter at work for personal things. OK whatever... I just love using paper cutters regardless.

5. Glee's cover of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" which I downloaded and listen to every day.

no words, only sobbing

My tan is slowly fading back to snowy white...

My hair doesn't reek of chlorine...

Every time I peed today it was into a toilet and not the ocean...

I had to supply and pay for my own food...

No one is bringing me ice cream over to where I'm lounging on the balcony...

:(

Vacation is over. A single glistening tear slides down my cheek and drops gently onto the t-shirt, where my bikini used to be. When can I go back to Heaven?

miscellany

Yesterday I realized that it's really weird to eat mandarin oranges while thinking about goldfish.

Friday night I went to a party and had a little too much wine, and then laughed so hard I fell over while try to tell Scott that his bathroom faucet looks like a ram. (It actually does in a weird way.)

I waste a lot of money on bikinis, because I hate them. Bikinis are never flattering and I'm never happy with the ones I have. My favorite is still the one I bought during my sophomore year of college at Target, and Sarah Fait got mad at me because she wanted to buy it, and I said she still should because it's not like we wear bathing suits together that much and we could just plan to not wear them on the same day, but she irrationally refused. Anyway, I usually want to only wear that one, but if I'm going to swim every day that we're in Florida, I probs need to at least switch out my bottoms. That's a yeast infection just begging to happen.

Another thing Sarah Fait got mad at me for once was dumping out some flat soda. I was confused because I was like, "It's mine...and it's old...?" and she was like "Flat soda is my FAVORITE and you should have ASKED."

Scott is paranoid all the time that his sleeves are too "billowy." He's laying on the floor right now wearing his Snuggie and he just said "Hey babe? Do my sleeves look too billowy?"

Today I woke up with a head cold, so I bought a neti pot. Scott uses a neti pot all the time, as does my roommate and lots of other people and I've heard it's really good. So I tried to use it but instead of the water going in one nostril and out the other, in went in one and down my throat, which was gross. So then I tilted my head and it started coming out the other nostril, but in a really weak dribble that ran down my neck and got my shirt all wet.

I'm really good at Trivial Pursuit for Wii and I almost always win. And there's this announcer in the background who says stupid things all the time like "Wow, you got it!" or whatever and usually we tune him out. But during a recent game I actually listened to what he was saying and heard him announce "If this game gets any tenser I'm going to need the toilet!"

If my life gets any awesomer I'm going to be the one needing a toilet.

GOOGLE IT!!

As a modern-day anthropologist of minute proportions (meaning I just wonder about people's behavior occasionally) I have developed some serious questions about a new phenomenon sweeping the nation. I call it "Brain Annex" or "Google Crutch."

Here is a related XKCD: http://xkcd.com/333/

Basically, when did we go from, "I don't know the answer to this question, I must call a more knowledgeable friend" to "I don't know the answer to this question, I'm already Googling/Wikipediaing it!" Not to say it's not effective - it is. I've learned more about American history via Wikipedia than in high school for sure. But it's like...weird.

I forgot to take my medicine today...what should I do?? Call the pharmacy for answers? Or my doctor? No way, I hate talking to people! (Especially people in lab coats, even if it's over the phone. I can hear those coats being gross in the background.) I'll just Google it! "Missed a Flomax, what to do" and suddenly I have the answer, no human contact required. (I don't really take Flomax...or do I?)

It's going too far though, I think. Several times recently I've tried to Google answers to questions like "What is that dumb girl's name from college?" or "Where did I leave my glasses?" and Brain Annex can rarely help, and I feel really stupid for having even asked.

live the dream

I am about to make good on my promise to myself that one day I would set my alarm ringtone to this:



You KNOW you all are jealous. I am going to wake up every morning from now on feeling more powerful than you can imagine, stretching and looking over my territory! I want to take a nap right now just for an excuse to set my alarm, but I'm too excited to sleep.

Yessssssss.

Hockey Makes Me Upset

True Confession: Hockey is my least favorite sport to watch. I like watching football, I love going to Celtics games although I hate watching them on TV, and I don't mind baseball occasionally. We're not going to discuss golf. But I really just have NO interest in hockey. I don't understand the rules and I can never figure out where the puck is. And the rinks are freezing.

However, Scott loves hockey. It's his favorite sport. And whenever the Flyers are in town, he buys tickets. This week, the Flyers and the Bruins are in the playoffs together. Monday night, guess where I was?

Now, of all the things I don't care for when it comes to hockey, I'm generally willing to overlook them because of the novelty of going to a game. I like hot dogs and beer and stuff. But let me tell you something...

BRUINS FANS ARE THE WORST.

I want to insert expletives there but I won't because my mom reads this blog. But seriously. They are the ******** ************ ********* WORST!

This is how our night went: Scott wears his Flyers jersey boldly into a sea of Bruins fans. We walk politely to our seats/stand in the hot dog line/etc. EVERY douchebag (don't read that, Bonnie) who walks past us screams in Scott's face "Boooooo! You suck! Flyers suck! Go home, pussy!" We do not reply.

We sit in our seats and get taunted by everyone sitting around us even though we are not speaking to them or saying anything about the Bruins. We only cheer (cautiously) for the Flyers at the appropriate times. Bruins fans far and wide spot Scott's orange jersey and scream very nasty things to us.

Scott goes to the bathroom and the hecklers turn their heckles on ME. The guy behind me says that I should leave Scott and get with him. I give him the look of death.

Scott comes back and the game continues. I'm eating popcorn and getting really upset and bored. Suddenly I hear someone behind me yell this:

"HEY HOTDOG! YOUR WIFE LIKES POWDERED BUTTER!"

I freeze, popcorn midway to my mouth. Oh my god. The hecklers are calling me fat now. I am in crisis mode. Even strangers think I eat too much popcorn. I'm freaking out and trying to explain to Scott what just happened, and he's confused. He says, "No, no one yelled that. He yelled, 'Hartnell, your wife likes Carter better.' Which is actually a very educated thing to yell..." I didn't hear the rest because I didn't really care now that I knew it wasn't about me. Powdered butter. Is that even a thing? And strangely I wasn't even phased by them calling Scott "Hotdog"??

Anyway, then for the rest of the game the guys behind us spilled beer on me and then threw trash at us until security had to threaten to escort them out. I was really mad and wanted so badly for the Flyers to win so I could turn around at the end and say calmly, "You all have been very rude to us and I hope you're ashamed of yourself. Oh, and THE BRUINS F***ING SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" But instead they yelled the opposite thing to us as we ran from the building trying to save our lives.

Pull it out in game 3, Flyers. Please.

"I'll just lay here and practice my strokes."

The first time I ever farted in front of Scott, we were watching this video and I was sitting on his lap. Or, I was sitting on his lap until he realized what was happening and pushed me off. Enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fVYbOmoThIs

Countdown to Vacation!!

19 Short Days!

(It's hard to draw stick figures wearing bikinis. They come out a little wonky. Don't judge.)

A conversation between two young souls...

Background info: This restaurant just opened in Davis Square and I really want to go. I have mentioned this to Scott several times, as we drive past it on our way to the gym.

Last week Scott was in Florida golfing and I texted him "Do you want to go to Posto with me some night when you're back?" He never responded.

Today I thought of it again and we had this gchat conversation:

Sam: Do you want to have dinner at Posto on Friday?

Scott: What is posto?

Sam: It's the new pizza/wine place in Davis.

Scott: Oh is it that place you texted me about? I had no idea what a post - o was. I thought you were asking me to go to the post office with you.

I Love Babies

Scott and I talk all day, every day on gchat while we're supposed to be working. These are the main categories that our gchats can fall into:

• Here's a link to something funny I found on Reddit! Examples: http://i.imgur.com/pYwBM.png and http://i.imgur.com/RngNb.jpg
• Here's a link to something political that I think you will agree with, also from Reddit! I'll resist posting an example here.
• What do you want to do tonight/this weekend?
• What do you want to eat tonight/this weekend?
• Why are you working instead of talking to me?

And then the one category that only I employ...

• If/when we ever have a child, we WILL be getting it this! Examples:

(This one I would just put apple juice in and use it like a regular juice bottle to freak out strangers when they see the baby drinking from it.)

nobody cares what you have to say, Kara

I love American Idol, but I hate Kara DioGuardi. I had to make a resolution to stop saying "Shut up, Kara!" at my TV because the TV was getting upset.

I took this picture (actually I think Scott took this one...) because of her camo-puff-sleeve dress. To quote the great Scott McLelland: I hate you, can you please go back to the forest you crawled out of?

Thanks to Wizard Sleeve and Whitey who let us be weird, pause their DVR a million times, and take pictures of Kara in the perfect Z-snap pose.

Advanced Logical Reasoning

Fact: There is an old man in Cathy's office right now.

Fact: The office smells weird right now.

Does correlation imply causation in this case? Please discuss.

Fact: I've been eating/drinking a lot of dairy today.

Fact: Something else has been happening to my body that I'm too much of a lady to discuss on the interwebs.

Does correlation imply causation in this case? Please discuss.

Fact: Tim Urban (henceforth known as "Turban") is the worst contestant on American Idol.

Fact: Scott texts his vote in for Turban each week because he thinks its funny to upset me, since I am sincerely concerned for Siobhan's standings.

Fact: Turban never gets kicked off.

Does correlation imply causation in this case? Please discuss.

Poland's Finest

http://www.olgaziemska.com/

This artist was featured on Design*Sponge yesterday and I thought her stuff was just so cool. More than anything else, I'm posting this here for my own benefit, so that I don't forget about her in the future. :)

I HATE SHOPPING

I said that to Scott yesterday and he replied, "No you don't. You love shopping." My mom will probably say the same thing. But you guys are WRONG. I hate shopping. It sucks and makes me feel miserable. Except for online shopping which I still love.

Yesterday was not a good day. I woke up on the proverbial wrong side of the bed, I had a headache, and basically I was acting like a snapping turtle. Then I got to work, and had some coffee, and my headache went away and I felt better.

After work I had to go to Kenmore square to drop off a paper at my professor's office. It seems kind of dumb that he wouldn't accept emailed papers, since Kenmore is all the way across the city and I had to make a special trip just to turn in my dumb homework, but I shrugged and went for it. So this class is at AIB, the Art Institute of Boston, which is part of Lesley but is specifically an art college. Generally art students are very scary and weird, and they dress like hobos and smoke and swear and are sexually ambiguous, and all of that intimidates me. However, most AIB students that I've gotten to know are actually not that scary, beyond their appearance. But still, yesterday, there was a gaggle of them outside smoking their tar sticks when I was trying to enter the building...and I made myself look so foolish. I thought the door was locked, and struggled with it forever, and tried to unlock it with my student ID, and felt so embarrassed, and then finally one of the smokers showed me that the door was NOT locked, in fact, I was just opening it wrong. And THEN, I got inside and there was a second locked door, which I ALSO struggled with, and I felt really embarrassed again because the smokers could still see me and I looked so dumb. But I finally got in, found the elevator, went up to the second floor and started looking around for Professor Steck's office. I heard this girl's voice behind me say "Hey are you dropping off your paper?" and I didn't think she was talking to me...but then I realized, I AM dropping off a paper! So I turned around and saw that it was a girl from my class, but by that time several seconds had passed and I panicked and screamed out "YES!" in a weird strangled sounding voice. I just...wasn't having a good day. So we found the office, deposited our stupid papers, and I left. AIB trip = successful but not good.

Then I decided I would walk from Kenmore to Newbury Street, and the exercise would be nice and I would go in some stores that I like. I was feeling much better, and I bought some books at my favorite bookstore, and all was well. Then I tramped down farther, intending to go to H&M and spend a store credit I had. Along the way, a girl handed me a flyer and said, "Would you like a free gift from Nike?" Of course I replied excitedly, "YES!" (Second time I shouted YES that day, but this time was more appropriate, less painful.) So I hurried into Niketown with my little piece of paper gripped tightly in my sweaty fingers and dreamed of all the great stuff I might get... And then was crushed to find out that the "free gift" was a miniature baseball bat. Free gift my ass. More like a free way for Nike to haul away their trash. I took my bat, bopped the salesgirl over the head with it, and then laid it down and left the store. I am NO trash-hauler. (I didn't really hit anyone with my bat, but I really did leave it there.)

So now, I'm in a rage again because Nike tricked me into thinking I was going to get something awesome, and then didn't deliver. I tarried on and arrived at H&M. They had a lot of new stuff and I thought it would be so easy to spend $25. I can't even get into the details of the HOURS I spent in that hell hole, the memories are too painful. I hated everything except for 1 tanktop and 1 jacket, and they were both the most hellish shade of pinky-beige you could imagine. I could not purchase them. I look terrible in beige, I'm too pale. And you know how EVERYTHING at that store ALWAYS comes in at least 2 colors? Well apparently those self-satisfied designers were so pleased with their pinky-puke concoctions that they thought 1 color would suffice. IT DIDN'T SUFFICE, DESIGNERS! It didn't suffice. [Sob.]

But I was so determined to spend my credit, because it was burning a hole in my pocket, and like...I was THERE. It's a store jam-packed with clothes. I could find SOMETHING to wear. I looked around forEVER, talked myself out of two different black skirts, tried on some ill-fitting jeans, and settled, finally, on buying 3 t-shirts. So boring.

When I finally left H&M, my rage was incalculable. I was mad about the beige, mad about the other ugly stuff, mad about the time I had wasted in there, mad that my feet hurt, mad that my headache was back. I HATE shopping.

I had one more errand to run and then I could go home. I hightailed it to The Paper Source to return something that I didn't need. While I was there, I walked around a little and looked at the cuteness. I love that store. Everything is adorable. Slowly I felt my rage fly away. I found the most adorable anniversary card for Scott, and felt so much better as I got in line to return/pay. While I was waiting, I flipped the card over to see the price, more out of curiosity than anything else. I knew it would be a little expensive - nothing is cheap there - but I was not prepared for what I saw. NINE DOLLARS. They wanted NINE DOLLARS for that stupid thing! Under no circumstances was I willing to pay that. I slammed it down on a display table, returned my stupid pack of paper, silently seethed at the extortioners of The Paper Source, and left in a huff. My headache was back in full force. I HATE SHOPPING. I haaaaaaaaaaate shopping.

I went home and sulked for a long time, cried a little out of pure misery, and then Scott came over to cheer me up. The day end much better than it began. But still...shopping is my enemy. I shall never shop again for as long as I live.

Also, Happy Easter.