Chuck E. Cheese is close to my version of what hell is probably like. Chuck E. Cheese with lots of spiders.
An hour of homework in the third grade is stupid. We don't even go to private school.
Is my new office the McDonald's of insurance? I've been promoted after only two months.
No one gives a shit about your wedding planning. Just send me an invite and make sure there's lots of free booze.
You know, high school in the 1980s was really not attractive. Not at all.
As soon as my son goes to bed and before Rob gets home, I'm watching 17 Again. Prime Zac Efron viewing time.
I don't care what Heather says. Bandslam looks like an okay movie.
I could really go for some decent barbecue.
Also, one time last summer the Dahls made homemade salsa out of their homegrown heirloom tomatoes. Sometimes I dream about that salsa.
I can't even tell you how bad my hair looks right now. It's almost like I've given up. Almost.
If I was having a baby boy, I'd name him Aragorn. Just to annoy people.
How can Degrassi suck so bad and yet be so good?
I just took a really funny Facebook quiz that told me how much Jesus thinks I suck. Except it wasn't supposed to be funny.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Yay! Journalists Released!
I was excited this morning when I heard that Bill Clinton traveled solo to North Korea to meet with "so ronry" Kim Jong Il in an attempt to secure the release of Euna Kim and Laura Ling, the two American journalists sentenced to 12 years in a North Korean hard labor prison camp following their March arrest for "illegally entering North Korea" and "committing hostile acts." I had followed the case kind of obsessively owing to my secret fear that someday I will be arrested and imprisoned in a scary country that we have few diplomatic ties with... which is far fetched at best, given that I rarely leave the greater-North American area. Also, North Korea gives me the creeps. So I was heartened to see that someone was sent... although the Obama administration denies that Bill was "sent," or came bearing any messages from said administration.
Whatever. It worked and the two journalists are actually on their way home on the plane with Clinton and some fine looking Secret Service agents. They looked all right -- there was some footage of them walking toward the plane and boarding with President Clinton, and one of them (I think it was Laura Ling) smiled slightly as she declined one of his aide's offers to carry her bags.
Obviously I fall into the camp of people who believe it's better to send someone important to kiss Jong Il's ronry little ass and offer up a fake apology to secure the release of wrongly imprisoned American citizens, rather than not dealing with "these people" and letting our citizens rot in prison.
Whatever. It worked and the two journalists are actually on their way home on the plane with Clinton and some fine looking Secret Service agents. They looked all right -- there was some footage of them walking toward the plane and boarding with President Clinton, and one of them (I think it was Laura Ling) smiled slightly as she declined one of his aide's offers to carry her bags.
Obviously I fall into the camp of people who believe it's better to send someone important to kiss Jong Il's ronry little ass and offer up a fake apology to secure the release of wrongly imprisoned American citizens, rather than not dealing with "these people" and letting our citizens rot in prison.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Saturday Morning and The Pook Is Annoyed
I just remembered that I left out the best part of the Interior Decorator story in my last entry: Not only was I in the middle of getting dressed for the choir concert when I wound up vomiting all over my floor. I was also in fact midway through pulling pantyhose on. You know what a challenge that is on a good day? So multiply it by the most ginormous hangover ever...
Luckily Thad's friend Jenny from their floor was also in choir and giving me a ride to the concert, and she had clearly "been there done that" with the whole "I am a freshman in college and drank way too much last night" thing, and she passed me mints in between dashes to the women's room for dry heaving during the concert breaks.
I've updated my blog roll if anyone cares. One I deleted because it's never updated; another I deleted because it annoys the shit out of me in its smug superiority. And substituted in Ain't It Cool. If I'm going to promote the blog of someone smug and superior, I've decided it will be smug and superior about shit that I actually care about.
The Pook is annoyed because he knows I went birthday shopping last night and I won't tell him what I got. He is also annoyed because I told him I got him something special that he can have right now, today... as soon as I can be arsed to get dressed and go down to the car and retrieve it. And obviously I am sitting here fucking around on the intarwebs. And he is also annoyed because Rob is sleeping in. This would normally not be an issue, but later this afternoon, when I go out to a crop, they are going to Amazing Jake's for their first Boy's Day Off in many months. Apparently The Pook is afraid that Rob is going to sleep right through this plan.
It's fun being a parent and getting to just annoy your child by doing NOTHING.
Luckily Thad's friend Jenny from their floor was also in choir and giving me a ride to the concert, and she had clearly "been there done that" with the whole "I am a freshman in college and drank way too much last night" thing, and she passed me mints in between dashes to the women's room for dry heaving during the concert breaks.
I've updated my blog roll if anyone cares. One I deleted because it's never updated; another I deleted because it annoys the shit out of me in its smug superiority. And substituted in Ain't It Cool. If I'm going to promote the blog of someone smug and superior, I've decided it will be smug and superior about shit that I actually care about.
The Pook is annoyed because he knows I went birthday shopping last night and I won't tell him what I got. He is also annoyed because I told him I got him something special that he can have right now, today... as soon as I can be arsed to get dressed and go down to the car and retrieve it. And obviously I am sitting here fucking around on the intarwebs. And he is also annoyed because Rob is sleeping in. This would normally not be an issue, but later this afternoon, when I go out to a crop, they are going to Amazing Jake's for their first Boy's Day Off in many months. Apparently The Pook is afraid that Rob is going to sleep right through this plan.
It's fun being a parent and getting to just annoy your child by doing NOTHING.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
College, Part One
I was just sitting here flipping through the television channels and saw Heaven Can Wait on one of the cable listings, and that made me think about the song of the same name by Meat Loaf, off the Bat Out of Hell album (that title has always seemed so much more heavy metal than the album is -- Meat Loaf is pure power pop rock all the way). And that made me think of college, because freshman year of college, that album was a big thing with our crowd. And I remembered how sometimes, my girls and I would just sit around in someone's room on a Monday afternoon and listen to melancholy songs, like "Heaven Can Wait" and "Two Out of Three" by Meat Loaf, and the Rolling Stones' "You Can't Always Get What You Want," and "Yesterday" and "In My Life" by the Beatles. Our friend Jers was always making mix tapes -- you'd get one if he liked you. I had a huge crush on Jers for most of the year but never told anyone because he was first way into this one girl named Kimmie, and then he was way into our friend Lara, and I knew I didn't stand a chance. Anyway, it's better that we just remained friends, because we're still friends now and he doesn't speak to any of them. And I still have the five mix tapes he made for me over the years, even though they don't even work any more. He was my Secret Santa freshman year, and made me an awesome John Lennon tape.
Anyway, I was thinking about how big of a deal every little thing was back then. Is it the age? I guess it must be. The age, and the experience of being at college. College for me, and for most of my friends, was our first time away from home, our first taste of freedom, our first chance to make real choices, and either succeed or fuck up. Sometimes both. I loved almost every single minute of college. I was there for 4 years and one semester, and I can count on one hand the times that were so painful I hated being there; the rest of it was like magic. I had all these amazing friends I never would have made if I hadn't gone... even the boyfriend I hated by the time I graduated, I can kind of think of fondly now, like he was just a mild pain in the ass. In reality, he ripped out my heart and then stomped on it outside a packed bar at closing time, in front of everyone I knew, and I spent several months dreaming of ways I could kill him inside too. Eventually I figured out that he just didn't care, and the whole thing was pointless, and by that time I was ready to move on.
Everything was such a huge deal that we would sit in someone's room in the late afternoon as the sun began to set over the mountains, no lights on, no talking, and we would just listen to music and remind ourselves to breathe. Eventually we'd go down to dinner with the whole crowd, and pretend everything was fine, and laugh and flirt and carry on... ours was always the loudest table in the dining hall, even louder than the table of kids who lived on the theatre program floor -- in fact I'm sure we pissed them off, since we had more drama and noise in our lives than they ever did. And yet I'm sure everything was a huge deal to them as well. They probably hated us.
We always had these amazing football parties in Jers and Corey's room. Lots of beer. And we played Powder Puff Football, all the girls, coached by a rather too large coaching staff drawn from the guys' side of the floor. We kept challenging other floors to play us but I guess we looked too professional, with our thrice weekly practices and large coaching staff, so in the end only two other floors took us on. We kicked ass, of course.
The first time I ever got really, really wasted was a Saturday night about two or three months into the fall semester, and everyone had gone home for the weekend or gone out for the evening, and I had planned to stay in because I had a choir concert the next morning. I got bored and wandered over to see what Ranya and Kimmie and Melissa were up to, and they were sitting in Rany's room with a huge jug of shitty Gallo wine, plastic cups and a big bottle of Sprite, making poor man's spritzers. I settled in to enjoy one, and eventually Kimmie, Melissa and I polished off that entire bottle of wine, and then set about stumbling all over the dorm to "meet people." At one point we thought it would be a good idea to try to get onto the roof of the 12-story building; luckily it was kept padlocked due to a couple of suicides back in the 1970s. The next morning I had to get up really early for the choir concert, and as I was getting dressed in my bedroom, I realized I was about to vomit. I threw my robe back on and was on the point of walking out the door to rush to the restroom when I spewed all over the floor of my room. Eventually this incident earned me the nickname "Interior Decorator," since all I had to clean the carpet with was Comet and it bleached it out, thus leaving a giant bleached spot on the carpet for the rest of the year.
Miserable, and yet I wouldn't have missed out on the getting wasted part even if someone told me for certain that I was going to get sick the next day. It was too amazing, feeling that bliss and doing the drunk bonding with the other girls. It's probably partly why I joined a sorority in my sophomore year... although that was really out of loneliness more than anything else.
I took a lot of Political Science classes, thinking I was going to major in Journalism with Poli Sci as my area of focus, but then I didn't pass the typing test to get into the Journalism school. So I switched over to English/Creative Writing the second semester. I had weird times in the English department up at CSU. No one was friends, really -- it was too competitive -- but eventually, sophomore year, I made a couple of friends in the department and we stuck together till graduation.
My gang of friends and I were heartbroken on the last day of that year, when we all had to separate for the summer. There's a photo of us all in my scrapbook and everyone's crying, but trying to smile through the tears. We'd been through a great deal together in a school year. It's powerful stuff, getting to know and care about people you might otherwise have nothing in common with. That's one of the biggest lessons you learn in college -- how to deal with people. How to live with them, how not to live with them. How to let go of small stuff. How to work together, even if it's on something as stupid as a parade float or a powder puff football team.
Incidentally, I played Center.
Anyway, I was thinking about how big of a deal every little thing was back then. Is it the age? I guess it must be. The age, and the experience of being at college. College for me, and for most of my friends, was our first time away from home, our first taste of freedom, our first chance to make real choices, and either succeed or fuck up. Sometimes both. I loved almost every single minute of college. I was there for 4 years and one semester, and I can count on one hand the times that were so painful I hated being there; the rest of it was like magic. I had all these amazing friends I never would have made if I hadn't gone... even the boyfriend I hated by the time I graduated, I can kind of think of fondly now, like he was just a mild pain in the ass. In reality, he ripped out my heart and then stomped on it outside a packed bar at closing time, in front of everyone I knew, and I spent several months dreaming of ways I could kill him inside too. Eventually I figured out that he just didn't care, and the whole thing was pointless, and by that time I was ready to move on.
Everything was such a huge deal that we would sit in someone's room in the late afternoon as the sun began to set over the mountains, no lights on, no talking, and we would just listen to music and remind ourselves to breathe. Eventually we'd go down to dinner with the whole crowd, and pretend everything was fine, and laugh and flirt and carry on... ours was always the loudest table in the dining hall, even louder than the table of kids who lived on the theatre program floor -- in fact I'm sure we pissed them off, since we had more drama and noise in our lives than they ever did. And yet I'm sure everything was a huge deal to them as well. They probably hated us.
We always had these amazing football parties in Jers and Corey's room. Lots of beer. And we played Powder Puff Football, all the girls, coached by a rather too large coaching staff drawn from the guys' side of the floor. We kept challenging other floors to play us but I guess we looked too professional, with our thrice weekly practices and large coaching staff, so in the end only two other floors took us on. We kicked ass, of course.
The first time I ever got really, really wasted was a Saturday night about two or three months into the fall semester, and everyone had gone home for the weekend or gone out for the evening, and I had planned to stay in because I had a choir concert the next morning. I got bored and wandered over to see what Ranya and Kimmie and Melissa were up to, and they were sitting in Rany's room with a huge jug of shitty Gallo wine, plastic cups and a big bottle of Sprite, making poor man's spritzers. I settled in to enjoy one, and eventually Kimmie, Melissa and I polished off that entire bottle of wine, and then set about stumbling all over the dorm to "meet people." At one point we thought it would be a good idea to try to get onto the roof of the 12-story building; luckily it was kept padlocked due to a couple of suicides back in the 1970s. The next morning I had to get up really early for the choir concert, and as I was getting dressed in my bedroom, I realized I was about to vomit. I threw my robe back on and was on the point of walking out the door to rush to the restroom when I spewed all over the floor of my room. Eventually this incident earned me the nickname "Interior Decorator," since all I had to clean the carpet with was Comet and it bleached it out, thus leaving a giant bleached spot on the carpet for the rest of the year.
Miserable, and yet I wouldn't have missed out on the getting wasted part even if someone told me for certain that I was going to get sick the next day. It was too amazing, feeling that bliss and doing the drunk bonding with the other girls. It's probably partly why I joined a sorority in my sophomore year... although that was really out of loneliness more than anything else.
I took a lot of Political Science classes, thinking I was going to major in Journalism with Poli Sci as my area of focus, but then I didn't pass the typing test to get into the Journalism school. So I switched over to English/Creative Writing the second semester. I had weird times in the English department up at CSU. No one was friends, really -- it was too competitive -- but eventually, sophomore year, I made a couple of friends in the department and we stuck together till graduation.
My gang of friends and I were heartbroken on the last day of that year, when we all had to separate for the summer. There's a photo of us all in my scrapbook and everyone's crying, but trying to smile through the tears. We'd been through a great deal together in a school year. It's powerful stuff, getting to know and care about people you might otherwise have nothing in common with. That's one of the biggest lessons you learn in college -- how to deal with people. How to live with them, how not to live with them. How to let go of small stuff. How to work together, even if it's on something as stupid as a parade float or a powder puff football team.
Incidentally, I played Center.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Top 10 Hate List - Week of July 12, 2009
Back in college, freshman year in the dorms, a group of girlfriends and I used to post our top 10 Hate Lists on our doors every week. Sometimes my roommate and I would smoke too much pot and post Top 10 Like Lists instead, but usually we were haters. Herewith, my top 10 for the week, in no particular order:
1) Dirty laundry. Why can't it magically clean itself? Why must I slave over it? At the very least, I need a laundry folding robot. I can handle the washing and drying bit, it's the folding that gets old. I know what you're thinking: Don't bother folding it at all. Yeah right. You didn't grow up in my mother's house if you think that's a possibility.
2) Socks on the living room floor. Now, granted, Rob does not have disgusting, smelly, sweaty feet like a lot of men. The Pook's are occasionally a bit grimy given that he is a young boy, but I let him live inside me for almost 10 months about 8 years ago, so I tend to forgive a lot more than I might otherwise. But seriously. Why? Why do they have to be on the floor? Why do they have to come off at all? What possesses males to be sitting around doing nothing and suddenly think, "My feet must be liberated from these confining socks IMMEDIATELY!!" ?? Why can't they get up (since they are doing nothing to begin with) and take the socks to the dirty clothes hamper in one of the bathrooms? Or even simpler, take them to the laundry closet and deposit them there?
3) Allergies. I have them year round. They drive me crazy. I don't understand how any one body can produce as much mucus as mine does.
4) Use of the fake word "coverages." This is work-related. The insurance industry seems to think it can just make up words whenever it wants to or something. Everyone uses the fake word "coverages" when they are telling you about your insurance coverage and think they need to make it plural because there is more than one coverage part in the policy. Really, the word coverage is a word that describes a whole set, which means it can describe several policies all at once without the need for tacking on an "s" to make a fake word. Every form letter in every management system at every agency I've worked at the last few years uses the fake word "coverages" and it drives me so insane every time I see it and have to correct it. What annoys me most, though, is the fact that makers of insurance agency software have actually perpetuated use of this fake word and incorporated it into their forms, thus leading less informed souls down the path of believing it's a real word.
And people should know not to mess with me on this. I practically got into a fist fight over it with the receptionist in my new office the week before last.
5) Our couch. It looks fine and all, even if it's not necessarily my favorite color and all -- I mean, it's a neutral so it doesn't offend. It's passable, and some people probably even think it's nice. Until they sit down on it, that is. And then it's all over. Damn thing sags like it's 40 years old. It's not. It's 5 years old. Sorry, but I would expect a decent sofa to hold up for at least 10 years. It's a major purchase, a sofa. It should last a while. It's like when the iPod first came out and Apple thought they could get away with shitty batteries that only last about a year and after that you could just replace it for the low, low price of over $100, which meant you might as well just buy a whole new iPod, but consumers were like, "Fuck no! If I'm spending that much money on a music player, it better last a fucking long time!" and Apple started using better batteries that last way longer. This is what needs to happen with couches. I mean, this is a $500 couch. That's a lot of money for some of us. Maybe not in the grand scheme of things, but for most of us, it is a lot. And it should therefore last a bit longer than 5 years.
Plus I just hate that it's not the color I want it to be. Poor couch.
6) Weekend tv. There's never anything good on tv when all I have is time on my hands to watch tv.
7) People who drive like idiots. Look, it would take me three full days to detail the numerous ways in which idiots drive like idiots, so I'll just skip the description and leave it at the complaint. I just wish the licensing requirements were more stringent. Why should I have to share the road with these people??
8) My wardrobe. I stand in my closet at least three mornings a week going, "I have nothing to wear but crap." That means I have two decent shirts to wear to work. Two. This seems easily remedied, and yet, it always seems I'm spending that money on my son or groceries or whatever. I wish someone would just nominate me for What Not to Wear, but unfortunately the situation isn't so drastic that I actually qualify for that show. Oh well. I can probably afford new clothes in September. So there's that to look forward to.
9) No more Harry Potter books. Ever. So depressing. I mean, she could write new ones about their kids or something. Right?
10) Cold feet. My feet are always cold. It could be 90 degrees out, and my toes would still be freezing. It's ridiculous. I don't even have bad circulation or anything, so damned if I know why they are always cold. I'll wear slippers around the house all day until finally, after about 9 or 10 hours, my feet feel warm. And I'll remove the slippers, and three minutes later, my feet are freezing again.
Actually, it's kind of good that I had to stretch for 10 things to hate. It means I don't really hate much, which means things must be looking up. And let's face it, this list is more like a "Top 10 Irritants" list. But "Top 10 Hate List" makes for a better title.
1) Dirty laundry. Why can't it magically clean itself? Why must I slave over it? At the very least, I need a laundry folding robot. I can handle the washing and drying bit, it's the folding that gets old. I know what you're thinking: Don't bother folding it at all. Yeah right. You didn't grow up in my mother's house if you think that's a possibility.
2) Socks on the living room floor. Now, granted, Rob does not have disgusting, smelly, sweaty feet like a lot of men. The Pook's are occasionally a bit grimy given that he is a young boy, but I let him live inside me for almost 10 months about 8 years ago, so I tend to forgive a lot more than I might otherwise. But seriously. Why? Why do they have to be on the floor? Why do they have to come off at all? What possesses males to be sitting around doing nothing and suddenly think, "My feet must be liberated from these confining socks IMMEDIATELY!!" ?? Why can't they get up (since they are doing nothing to begin with) and take the socks to the dirty clothes hamper in one of the bathrooms? Or even simpler, take them to the laundry closet and deposit them there?
3) Allergies. I have them year round. They drive me crazy. I don't understand how any one body can produce as much mucus as mine does.
4) Use of the fake word "coverages." This is work-related. The insurance industry seems to think it can just make up words whenever it wants to or something. Everyone uses the fake word "coverages" when they are telling you about your insurance coverage and think they need to make it plural because there is more than one coverage part in the policy. Really, the word coverage is a word that describes a whole set, which means it can describe several policies all at once without the need for tacking on an "s" to make a fake word. Every form letter in every management system at every agency I've worked at the last few years uses the fake word "coverages" and it drives me so insane every time I see it and have to correct it. What annoys me most, though, is the fact that makers of insurance agency software have actually perpetuated use of this fake word and incorporated it into their forms, thus leading less informed souls down the path of believing it's a real word.
And people should know not to mess with me on this. I practically got into a fist fight over it with the receptionist in my new office the week before last.
5) Our couch. It looks fine and all, even if it's not necessarily my favorite color and all -- I mean, it's a neutral so it doesn't offend. It's passable, and some people probably even think it's nice. Until they sit down on it, that is. And then it's all over. Damn thing sags like it's 40 years old. It's not. It's 5 years old. Sorry, but I would expect a decent sofa to hold up for at least 10 years. It's a major purchase, a sofa. It should last a while. It's like when the iPod first came out and Apple thought they could get away with shitty batteries that only last about a year and after that you could just replace it for the low, low price of over $100, which meant you might as well just buy a whole new iPod, but consumers were like, "Fuck no! If I'm spending that much money on a music player, it better last a fucking long time!" and Apple started using better batteries that last way longer. This is what needs to happen with couches. I mean, this is a $500 couch. That's a lot of money for some of us. Maybe not in the grand scheme of things, but for most of us, it is a lot. And it should therefore last a bit longer than 5 years.
Plus I just hate that it's not the color I want it to be. Poor couch.
6) Weekend tv. There's never anything good on tv when all I have is time on my hands to watch tv.
7) People who drive like idiots. Look, it would take me three full days to detail the numerous ways in which idiots drive like idiots, so I'll just skip the description and leave it at the complaint. I just wish the licensing requirements were more stringent. Why should I have to share the road with these people??
8) My wardrobe. I stand in my closet at least three mornings a week going, "I have nothing to wear but crap." That means I have two decent shirts to wear to work. Two. This seems easily remedied, and yet, it always seems I'm spending that money on my son or groceries or whatever. I wish someone would just nominate me for What Not to Wear, but unfortunately the situation isn't so drastic that I actually qualify for that show. Oh well. I can probably afford new clothes in September. So there's that to look forward to.
9) No more Harry Potter books. Ever. So depressing. I mean, she could write new ones about their kids or something. Right?
10) Cold feet. My feet are always cold. It could be 90 degrees out, and my toes would still be freezing. It's ridiculous. I don't even have bad circulation or anything, so damned if I know why they are always cold. I'll wear slippers around the house all day until finally, after about 9 or 10 hours, my feet feel warm. And I'll remove the slippers, and three minutes later, my feet are freezing again.
Actually, it's kind of good that I had to stretch for 10 things to hate. It means I don't really hate much, which means things must be looking up. And let's face it, this list is more like a "Top 10 Irritants" list. But "Top 10 Hate List" makes for a better title.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Saturday
Outside my window... I have no idea what's going on. I closed the blinds because I have a headache today, and the brightness of the sun really hurts my eyes and head.
I am thinking... about watching a movie in a little while. But not sure what I feel like watching.
I am thankful for... diet Pepsi, Pay Per View, Facebook, TweetDeck, and photo editing software.
From the kitchen... comes the smell of Ginger Peach Chicken baking in the oven for dinner. And it smells good.
I am wearing... jeans and my favorite Star Wars t-shirt. We watched Fanboys last night and it put me in the mood for this shirt.
I am creating... black and white photos for an album I'm making for my husband.
I am going... to the Renaissance Festival tomorrow! I love the Renaissance Festival.
I am hoping... to finish that book and begin another within the next few hours.
I am hearing... the dryer, the X-Box 360 running but no game being played, the sound of the keyboard.
Around the house... it is too messy for my taste.
One of my favorite things... is scrapbook paper. I love the way it smells.
A few plans for the rest of the week... Tomorrow's the Ren Fest, then Monday it's back to work. I will finally get a paycheck on Wednesday, and we are going out for a nice dinner to celebrate. And The Pook and I have big plans to go to Build-A-Bear. We haven't gotten to go there in about 100 years. And on the weekend, we're going up to visit my sister and family for the 4th of July.
A picture to share... This one's from 1973, when we still lived in Britannia Beach, B.C. That's my older sister Lianne on the left, and my mom, and me. I know you are jealous of our pants. We are standing outside the train entrance of the Anaconda mine where my dad worked. My dad was always fond of posing us next to mines for group photos -- our family albums are littered with shots of my sister and I standing on the edge of places like Bingham Pit and Carr Fork Mine. Good times.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
For Today
Ali Edwards posted this on her blog and I thought it might be fun to do it too.
Outside my window... the sun is going to down and the sky is that grey shade of blue, with some clouds drifting past.
I am thinking... about all the movies I want to see. Harry Potter; Transformers; Bruno; all the ones we missed while I was unemployed... it could take weeks to get caught up!
I am thankful for... my new job. And The Pook and Rob.
From the kitchen... Nothing tonight. Ronald McDonald was at the local McDonald's and The Pook insisted on seeing him, so we ate there. I'll cook tomorrow night, I guess.
I am wearing... jammies. Roots t-shirt and cotton pants. And slippers. The a/c makes my feet freeze.
I am creating... just this blog entry. But I'm thinking awfully hard about scrapbook layouts...
I am going... to the Renaissance Festival this Sunday. That means it's finally truly summer!
I am hoping... that I can get some extra sleep this weekend, as I've been weirdly exhausted since starting the new job. I didn't realize that it would be so difficult to get back into the swing of using my brain all day.
I am hearing... a commercial for Fruit Loops on the television.
Around the house... it is reasonably tidy, save a basket of clean laundry here and there. And The Pook's room.
One of my favorite things... is goofing off with Genius playlists in iTunes.
A few plans for the rest of the week... work tomorrow and Friday, hang with Rob, The Pook off to his dad's for the weekend, Ren Fest on Sunday, bake Edyn a birthday cake on Sunday evening.
A picture to share...
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Lazy Sunday
And I don't even have any cupcakes.
I am cooking beef brisket in the slow cooker though. With my own doctored up barbecue sauce concoction. I'm going to feed this to my parents later, for our half-assed Father's Day dinner. So it's not cupcakes, but it IS red meat.
So, I just figured I should make a new post since I finally got a job and that last post is now obsolete. I started my new job last week, at an independent insurance agency, smaller than the one I left but larger than the one at which I originally started in the field. I think there are a total of about 15 of us at my new workplace, and I love that. One thing I did learn at my last job is that a larger office is probably not the best place for me. So that's nice to know, I guess. Also, all the other account manager-type people at my new job are hilariously sarcastic and bitter -- not in a bad, negative way, but in a really funny way. Of course I fit right in. And an old friend from high school also works there, which is an added bonus.
Working for most of the week just about frickin' killed me though. I did not realize that it would be such a huge shock to my system after 10 weeks off to get back to work. After all, I was quite bored and irritated by not working. But it damn near exhausted me. I started on a Tuesday and that was fine, but Thursday and Friday got really frighteningly sluggish toward the end of the day. I realized I'd been mostly laying on the couch snoozing through Ellen and Oprah beginning at 3pm for the better part of 10 weeks, and I have to assume my system will adjust once again to using my brain all the way to 5pm (Does the drive home count? Hope not, or we're really in trouble).
I woke at the crack of dawn today, owing to allergies, and have been parked in front of the television ever since, multitasking, watching crap with half an eye while reading literary blogs (meaning blogs that concern themselves with discussion of all things literary). I did take a brief break to put the brisket on, but otherwise, here's what I've watched already this morning:
- VH-1 Top 20 Video Countdown. Confused new Daughtry video with a generic Nickelback song till I actually saw Chris Daughtry in the video. Turns out this is the song he wrote with the lead singer of Nickelback. Just... ew. Also, realized that one only digs Katy Perry while Katy Perry is actually playing; then you just forget about her ten minutes later. I mean, Lady Gaga is totally irritating, but her songs are catchy enough to stick with you and sneak up on you later in the day. Not so with Katy Perry.
- America's Sweethearts (5 minutes). The totally crap movie starring John Cusack, Julia Roberts, Catherine Zeta-Jones, and Billy Crystal. With that cast, I'm sure the filmmakers assumed it would be awesome. But it's horrible. The problem with a cast loaded with heavy-hitters is that the moviegoer has no idea where to look. You've got John doing his thing, Billy doing his schtick, Catherine playing a bitch, and Julia convincing no one that she's a put-upon wallflower. The whole premise is ludicrous, but only because of the casting. Also, no one really wants to see movies in which Hollywood pretends it understands what's ridiculous about Hollywood.
- Six Pack (beginning about 20 minutes in). This movie, on the other hand, is awesome. Back before Kenny Rogers did that thing to his face, he played a down on his luck race car driver who finds himself saddled with the care of 6 youngsters who miraculously know everything about cars and racing, help him win a bunch of races, and capture his heart along the way. This movie is awesome.
- Mask (final 45 minutes). The 1985 classic starring Cher and Eric Stoltz. And the dad from Prancer. I love this movie but it is pretty depressing. I guess I never noticed before how depressing it is. Also, I didn't know anything about the Grateful Dead the last time I saw this movie, so I only just noticed that Ripple is playing at the end, when Rocky is dead and Cher goes in and finds him. Which makes it sadder. Dude, though, it's totally awesome that she trashes her house. I think I might actually trash my house if anything ever happened to The Pook. I can totally relate to that reaction. Also, this movie no longer makes me cry. I used to sob uncontrollably at the end. No longer. Interesting. Also, "Roll Me Away" by Bob Seger, which plays over the end credits, is still a really killer song.
- Fuse Hit List. This is the video music channel that still plays music videos. Actually, they all still play music videos; you just have to know what time they play them. On the Hit List, they just play whatever's currently a hit. Doesn't matter if it's hip hop or metal or pop or whatever -- they just mix them all up. It's mostly rad with a bit of irritating thrown in. I can usually only stand this for about 45 minutes before I have to change the channel. Rob and I have learned from the Hit List about how Canadian bands can always be identified by their shitty videos that follow some kind of stupid plotline about a kid who's fixing to run away from home because his or her family doesn't understand them. We have also learned that hip hop is more effective when you stay away from "singing" along with AutoTune. We have also learned that the Killers are no substitute for Bruce Springsteen, hard as they may try, and that Paula Abdul did the Rebel Without a Cause video most effectively with Keanu, so no one should bother trying to redo it.
I was hoping for a marathon of Locked Up Abroad on the National Geographic network, but no such luck. And today's Degrassi marathon doesn't even start until 4pm -- what good will that do me??
Now that Rob's awake, we're gonna watch Fanboys on pay per view. Yay!
I am cooking beef brisket in the slow cooker though. With my own doctored up barbecue sauce concoction. I'm going to feed this to my parents later, for our half-assed Father's Day dinner. So it's not cupcakes, but it IS red meat.
So, I just figured I should make a new post since I finally got a job and that last post is now obsolete. I started my new job last week, at an independent insurance agency, smaller than the one I left but larger than the one at which I originally started in the field. I think there are a total of about 15 of us at my new workplace, and I love that. One thing I did learn at my last job is that a larger office is probably not the best place for me. So that's nice to know, I guess. Also, all the other account manager-type people at my new job are hilariously sarcastic and bitter -- not in a bad, negative way, but in a really funny way. Of course I fit right in. And an old friend from high school also works there, which is an added bonus.
Working for most of the week just about frickin' killed me though. I did not realize that it would be such a huge shock to my system after 10 weeks off to get back to work. After all, I was quite bored and irritated by not working. But it damn near exhausted me. I started on a Tuesday and that was fine, but Thursday and Friday got really frighteningly sluggish toward the end of the day. I realized I'd been mostly laying on the couch snoozing through Ellen and Oprah beginning at 3pm for the better part of 10 weeks, and I have to assume my system will adjust once again to using my brain all the way to 5pm (Does the drive home count? Hope not, or we're really in trouble).
I woke at the crack of dawn today, owing to allergies, and have been parked in front of the television ever since, multitasking, watching crap with half an eye while reading literary blogs (meaning blogs that concern themselves with discussion of all things literary). I did take a brief break to put the brisket on, but otherwise, here's what I've watched already this morning:
- VH-1 Top 20 Video Countdown. Confused new Daughtry video with a generic Nickelback song till I actually saw Chris Daughtry in the video. Turns out this is the song he wrote with the lead singer of Nickelback. Just... ew. Also, realized that one only digs Katy Perry while Katy Perry is actually playing; then you just forget about her ten minutes later. I mean, Lady Gaga is totally irritating, but her songs are catchy enough to stick with you and sneak up on you later in the day. Not so with Katy Perry.
- America's Sweethearts (5 minutes). The totally crap movie starring John Cusack, Julia Roberts, Catherine Zeta-Jones, and Billy Crystal. With that cast, I'm sure the filmmakers assumed it would be awesome. But it's horrible. The problem with a cast loaded with heavy-hitters is that the moviegoer has no idea where to look. You've got John doing his thing, Billy doing his schtick, Catherine playing a bitch, and Julia convincing no one that she's a put-upon wallflower. The whole premise is ludicrous, but only because of the casting. Also, no one really wants to see movies in which Hollywood pretends it understands what's ridiculous about Hollywood.
- Six Pack (beginning about 20 minutes in). This movie, on the other hand, is awesome. Back before Kenny Rogers did that thing to his face, he played a down on his luck race car driver who finds himself saddled with the care of 6 youngsters who miraculously know everything about cars and racing, help him win a bunch of races, and capture his heart along the way. This movie is awesome.
- Mask (final 45 minutes). The 1985 classic starring Cher and Eric Stoltz. And the dad from Prancer. I love this movie but it is pretty depressing. I guess I never noticed before how depressing it is. Also, I didn't know anything about the Grateful Dead the last time I saw this movie, so I only just noticed that Ripple is playing at the end, when Rocky is dead and Cher goes in and finds him. Which makes it sadder. Dude, though, it's totally awesome that she trashes her house. I think I might actually trash my house if anything ever happened to The Pook. I can totally relate to that reaction. Also, this movie no longer makes me cry. I used to sob uncontrollably at the end. No longer. Interesting. Also, "Roll Me Away" by Bob Seger, which plays over the end credits, is still a really killer song.
- Fuse Hit List. This is the video music channel that still plays music videos. Actually, they all still play music videos; you just have to know what time they play them. On the Hit List, they just play whatever's currently a hit. Doesn't matter if it's hip hop or metal or pop or whatever -- they just mix them all up. It's mostly rad with a bit of irritating thrown in. I can usually only stand this for about 45 minutes before I have to change the channel. Rob and I have learned from the Hit List about how Canadian bands can always be identified by their shitty videos that follow some kind of stupid plotline about a kid who's fixing to run away from home because his or her family doesn't understand them. We have also learned that hip hop is more effective when you stay away from "singing" along with AutoTune. We have also learned that the Killers are no substitute for Bruce Springsteen, hard as they may try, and that Paula Abdul did the Rebel Without a Cause video most effectively with Keanu, so no one should bother trying to redo it.
I was hoping for a marathon of Locked Up Abroad on the National Geographic network, but no such luck. And today's Degrassi marathon doesn't even start until 4pm -- what good will that do me??
Now that Rob's awake, we're gonna watch Fanboys on pay per view. Yay!
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Dying of Boredom Seems to Be A Real Possibility
(I used to have a friend who would say, "It's a real possible" when you asked him if he was interested in doing something, like go out for drinks after class or whatever. Is this something that people say on a regular basis? He grew up in Wyoming.)
Anyway. I've been unemployed since late March. And I'm not gonna lie -- despite the underlying cold sweat of panic, it was awesome. Although I (mostly) liked my job and loved my coworkers to death, I hated the people I was working for -- a couple of the most morally bankrupt people disguising themselves as Christians who give a crap about everyone but really don't that I have ever had the misfortune to meet. So it was hard to be there. And I don't think the bad economy had really affected us till that point, so I foolishly thought I would find a job quickly. So I went on many, many interviews and was hopeful and confident, and met friends for lunch and even had one day where I just went to the local scrapbook store and scrapbooked all day long, all by myself. It was awesome. And don't get me wrong -- I am still hopeful and confident, but after 8 weeks, have finally managed to wrap my head around the fact that it's going to take longer this time to find a job than the last time I had to do it (that time, it took two weeks). So I continue to interview up a storm -- 4 this past week, 2 this coming week -- and apply for everything that looks like a good fit and many things that don't look like a good fit.
And it's difficult and it's depressing and sometimes I am discouraged to the point that I just lie on the couch and cry for a few minutes. Oh, and try getting results from the unemployment office -- what a cluster fuck that is! I loved seeing those people on Oprah's show this week who actually managed to collect unemployment, because I was starting to think unemployment was a myth, like unicorns and Zeus. But I am nothing if not a plucky heroine in the novel of my life, so this is not going to get me permanently down.
It's just that I'm super bored.
This is how I spend my days: drop The Pook off at school, come home and get ready for interview if I have one, and if not, seat myself at the computer for several hours of applying for jobs, making phone calls about jobs I've already applied for or to follow up on interviews, and occasionally working on my novel. In between, I tweet incessantly and screw around on Facebook, hoping for a brief contact with another human being -- something I always had at work, that human contact. I'll take it, even if it's just online.
At first, my Facebook friends thought it was funny. But now I suspect even they are becoming super bored by my constant status updates and lame quiz results. And frankly, I'm bored by it too. And there are only so many blogs I can stand to read, and only so many fan sites I can lurk around on, and only so many questions I can research the answers to. Sometimes I watch Ellen and Oprah, but honestly, most of the time it's not worth the horrible daytime television advertising one has to endure. Ugly attorneys fighting for your rights following a car accident! Study at home for a degree from a really crappy university! ProActiv... because you're probably covered in hideous zits if you're sitting home in the middle of the day!
So I've read about 15 books in the last 8 weeks, which is great but honestly? I'm kind of bored with reading now. Something I never thought I'd say. Plus if I finish all the books in my existing unread pile, I'll eventually have to hit the library for more, and I hate library books -- they've got other people's germs on them. It's a good way to pick up flesh eating bacteria (thanks, Oprah!).
I've gotten as caught up on scrapbooking as I can without having to buy more supplies, so scrapbooking is out for now, except for a couple of album completions I need to do.
The house is very clean and way more organized than ever.
The Pook and Rob have enjoyed many delicious home cooked meals.
I have this list in my head of all the things I could have accomplished with these 8 weeks:
1). Could have worked out every day and lost several pounds.
2). Could have made serious progress on my novel.
3). Could have done volunteer work and made the world a better place.
I don't know, the list seems longer in my head. But you get the point.
Instead of doing these things, I get trapped in the cycle of thinking I can't start something in case I get called for an interview, or in case I get a job offer, or in case some temp work comes up. So I confine myself mostly to the house to be available when the phone rings. Which it does, often enough. I just wish it would ring with an actual job offer.
Before I do actually die of boredom.
It could happen.
Anyway. I've been unemployed since late March. And I'm not gonna lie -- despite the underlying cold sweat of panic, it was awesome. Although I (mostly) liked my job and loved my coworkers to death, I hated the people I was working for -- a couple of the most morally bankrupt people disguising themselves as Christians who give a crap about everyone but really don't that I have ever had the misfortune to meet. So it was hard to be there. And I don't think the bad economy had really affected us till that point, so I foolishly thought I would find a job quickly. So I went on many, many interviews and was hopeful and confident, and met friends for lunch and even had one day where I just went to the local scrapbook store and scrapbooked all day long, all by myself. It was awesome. And don't get me wrong -- I am still hopeful and confident, but after 8 weeks, have finally managed to wrap my head around the fact that it's going to take longer this time to find a job than the last time I had to do it (that time, it took two weeks). So I continue to interview up a storm -- 4 this past week, 2 this coming week -- and apply for everything that looks like a good fit and many things that don't look like a good fit.
And it's difficult and it's depressing and sometimes I am discouraged to the point that I just lie on the couch and cry for a few minutes. Oh, and try getting results from the unemployment office -- what a cluster fuck that is! I loved seeing those people on Oprah's show this week who actually managed to collect unemployment, because I was starting to think unemployment was a myth, like unicorns and Zeus. But I am nothing if not a plucky heroine in the novel of my life, so this is not going to get me permanently down.
It's just that I'm super bored.
This is how I spend my days: drop The Pook off at school, come home and get ready for interview if I have one, and if not, seat myself at the computer for several hours of applying for jobs, making phone calls about jobs I've already applied for or to follow up on interviews, and occasionally working on my novel. In between, I tweet incessantly and screw around on Facebook, hoping for a brief contact with another human being -- something I always had at work, that human contact. I'll take it, even if it's just online.
At first, my Facebook friends thought it was funny. But now I suspect even they are becoming super bored by my constant status updates and lame quiz results. And frankly, I'm bored by it too. And there are only so many blogs I can stand to read, and only so many fan sites I can lurk around on, and only so many questions I can research the answers to. Sometimes I watch Ellen and Oprah, but honestly, most of the time it's not worth the horrible daytime television advertising one has to endure. Ugly attorneys fighting for your rights following a car accident! Study at home for a degree from a really crappy university! ProActiv... because you're probably covered in hideous zits if you're sitting home in the middle of the day!
So I've read about 15 books in the last 8 weeks, which is great but honestly? I'm kind of bored with reading now. Something I never thought I'd say. Plus if I finish all the books in my existing unread pile, I'll eventually have to hit the library for more, and I hate library books -- they've got other people's germs on them. It's a good way to pick up flesh eating bacteria (thanks, Oprah!).
I've gotten as caught up on scrapbooking as I can without having to buy more supplies, so scrapbooking is out for now, except for a couple of album completions I need to do.
The house is very clean and way more organized than ever.
The Pook and Rob have enjoyed many delicious home cooked meals.
I have this list in my head of all the things I could have accomplished with these 8 weeks:
1). Could have worked out every day and lost several pounds.
2). Could have made serious progress on my novel.
3). Could have done volunteer work and made the world a better place.
I don't know, the list seems longer in my head. But you get the point.
Instead of doing these things, I get trapped in the cycle of thinking I can't start something in case I get called for an interview, or in case I get a job offer, or in case some temp work comes up. So I confine myself mostly to the house to be available when the phone rings. Which it does, often enough. I just wish it would ring with an actual job offer.
Before I do actually die of boredom.
It could happen.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Taking the Stage
So Rob and I have a new obsession (if by "obsession" you mean we watched it every week and dissected each episode at length and if by "at length" you mean 10 minutes or so) -- this show on MTV called Taking the Stage. It's this reality show about kids at a performing arts high school in Cinncinnati. Mostly it focuses on Tyler, a dancer, Jasmine, another dancer, Malik, also a dancer, and Mia, a singer/songwriter. Tyler and Jasmine were a couple until the second-to-last episode, when Tyler finally realized that their lack of decent conversations and eye contact were killing him slowly and he broke up with her. I'm sure Jasmine is a nice person, but she seems to be really shy and any niceness, if it exists, doesn't come across on camera. Sadly this will undermine her dance career, and hinder her in auditions and interviews. Jasmine is besties with Malik, who is gay and a really good dancer but a bit too Broadway -- he seems to want to be a hip hop dancer, but he doesn't quite get the style.
And then there's Mia. Mia is the real reason we watch the show. She's a singer and she plays guitar and piano, and writes all these beautiful songs about deep subjects, like how shallow she finds Tyler's relationship with Jasmine... because oh by the way, she has feelings for Tyler and he has feelings for her too but felt loyal to Jasmine, plus he's black and Mia's white, which was an unspoken undertone to the whole thing. In the season finale, Mia went to audition for this dickwad at Jive Records who ultimately decided she wasn't "ready" for a recording contract. Which might be true, but what annoying teenage/young adult recording "sensation" is ready? Is this moron telling me that Ashlee Simpson gets to have a career over someone with actual talent like my girl Mia? Yes, that's exactly what he's telling us. And it's sort of depressing, except I know that Mia is going places and she'll have that recording contract eventually, and Rob and I can buy all her albums. Also, she has red hair, and Rob would have been in love with her in high school, and she would have been nice to him but accidentally stomped all over his young heart because she wouldn't have felt the same way. Maybe.
The most amusing part of the show is where Jasmine goes around talking smack about Mia all the time because Mia and Tyler kissed at a party at some point after Jasmine and Tyler got together but Mia didn't know they were together, and the smack-talking just makes Jasmine look like an asshole when she seems to have been cast as the "nice girl." Like they'll cut to her in the audience of one of the many, many performances on this show, and she'll have this nasty-ass look on her face and be whispering what she thinks are snarky comments to her pal Malik. And so most proper-thinking people would have to assume she's kind of a bitch. Kind of. I think she just doesn't have anything else going on besides dancing; she doesn't seem to be very smart, and I think she liked the idea of having a boyfriend more than she liked the actual boyfriend. So now she's the bitch of the show, and she's so dumb she probably thinks that Mia is the bitch of the show because Mia speaks her mind and goes after what she wants and is a complete person, but totally not a bitch.
Oh, and Malik's drama is pretty good too. One audition, and he's all, "It's sooooo discouraging. They just didn't like me." And he's all set to quit and never dance again and his mom has to all build him back up again. When what the people at the audition really said was that he wasn't quite ready to be signed; he has a little more work to do. Isn't anyone teaching these kids to listen to what they're actually being told at these auditions? Apparently not. And then he also has some drama with this boyfriend he's had, but they're "taking a break" right now. I love, by the way, Malik's mom, who just totally seems to accept him as he is and loves him to death and is so supportive and everything. She's kind of awesome.
We can't wait for season two. This show is so much better than The Hills or Laguna Beach ever were. It's like someone finally realized that if we would all sit around and watch rich kids with nothing going for them other than their parents' money deliver half-sentences and shifty glances, we would be even more likely to watch kids with actual talents and lives who can speak in complete sentences! I'm so glad this was green-lit by someone.
And then there's Mia. Mia is the real reason we watch the show. She's a singer and she plays guitar and piano, and writes all these beautiful songs about deep subjects, like how shallow she finds Tyler's relationship with Jasmine... because oh by the way, she has feelings for Tyler and he has feelings for her too but felt loyal to Jasmine, plus he's black and Mia's white, which was an unspoken undertone to the whole thing. In the season finale, Mia went to audition for this dickwad at Jive Records who ultimately decided she wasn't "ready" for a recording contract. Which might be true, but what annoying teenage/young adult recording "sensation" is ready? Is this moron telling me that Ashlee Simpson gets to have a career over someone with actual talent like my girl Mia? Yes, that's exactly what he's telling us. And it's sort of depressing, except I know that Mia is going places and she'll have that recording contract eventually, and Rob and I can buy all her albums. Also, she has red hair, and Rob would have been in love with her in high school, and she would have been nice to him but accidentally stomped all over his young heart because she wouldn't have felt the same way. Maybe.
The most amusing part of the show is where Jasmine goes around talking smack about Mia all the time because Mia and Tyler kissed at a party at some point after Jasmine and Tyler got together but Mia didn't know they were together, and the smack-talking just makes Jasmine look like an asshole when she seems to have been cast as the "nice girl." Like they'll cut to her in the audience of one of the many, many performances on this show, and she'll have this nasty-ass look on her face and be whispering what she thinks are snarky comments to her pal Malik. And so most proper-thinking people would have to assume she's kind of a bitch. Kind of. I think she just doesn't have anything else going on besides dancing; she doesn't seem to be very smart, and I think she liked the idea of having a boyfriend more than she liked the actual boyfriend. So now she's the bitch of the show, and she's so dumb she probably thinks that Mia is the bitch of the show because Mia speaks her mind and goes after what she wants and is a complete person, but totally not a bitch.
Oh, and Malik's drama is pretty good too. One audition, and he's all, "It's sooooo discouraging. They just didn't like me." And he's all set to quit and never dance again and his mom has to all build him back up again. When what the people at the audition really said was that he wasn't quite ready to be signed; he has a little more work to do. Isn't anyone teaching these kids to listen to what they're actually being told at these auditions? Apparently not. And then he also has some drama with this boyfriend he's had, but they're "taking a break" right now. I love, by the way, Malik's mom, who just totally seems to accept him as he is and loves him to death and is so supportive and everything. She's kind of awesome.
We can't wait for season two. This show is so much better than The Hills or Laguna Beach ever were. It's like someone finally realized that if we would all sit around and watch rich kids with nothing going for them other than their parents' money deliver half-sentences and shifty glances, we would be even more likely to watch kids with actual talents and lives who can speak in complete sentences! I'm so glad this was green-lit by someone.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
The Ceremony
Top: Daniel wasn't that interested in the poetry readings.Middle: Our friend Sandy was one of our readers.
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