Now THIS is New Orleanian...

Thursday, May 31, 2007

I sat down at a table for lunch yesterday with my coworkers and not one, not two, not three, but four people opened up an individual baggy of crackers (like saltines) and BUTTERED them.

And then ate them.

With butter on them. In public. Buttered crackers in public. There is a joke to be made here, I'm too busy gagging to find it.

On the road again...

I'm leaving town tomorrow, taking the LONG drive to California. I'm picking up my mom in Texas and we'll drive together from there. She's bringing several books on tape (though I convinced her to not bring the Norah Roberts book because I can't listen to that with my mohter), I'm bringing chips and trail mix and we're both going to pretend like these aren't going to be the longest days in the history of days.

I think I have everything done and packed. Got my oil changed, got a new bumper sticker for my new bumper, packed most of my earthly possessions in case a hurricane decides to hit before I get back and I've talked it over with the cat and I'm pretty sure she's come to terms with my departure.

Now all that's left to do is actually will myself into the car for 3 days. To bad I can't apply the gynecologist margarita idea to the road trip. It might fly here in Nawlins, land of the to-go cups at bars (no, I'm neither exaggerating, nor kidding), but I'm guessing I'd better not mess with Texas, or they might make me stay there even longer.


Tuesday, May 29, 2007

I had the distinct pleasure of going to the gynecologist this morning. There's just nothing quite as pleasant as that experience.

First the questions. I cannot imagine some people saying "yes" to these questions, I'm embarrassed just hearing the questions, I can't imagine actually doing some the things that they ask. Others are just completely absurd. And then there's the clothing. Who decided that a small paper sheet was the same thing as wearing pants? Excuse me, you'll need the close that door a little tighter, my shirt opens to the front and my whole ass is exposed. And once you get me "dressed" in this gettup, perhaps you could not sit and chat with me before starting. Let's get the show on the road, eh?

And then the exam itself begins. Feet are in stirrups and you're encouraged to "scoot down." I really want to know if there are women who can scoot down a table when they're naked, being watched and have BOTH FEET IN STIRRUPS. Additionally, there is a nicer way to tell someone that they're boobs are lumpy than, "man, there are a lot of lumps in here." Hey thanks, because this isn't embarrassing enough without having to talk about it too. And while we're on that, I do not wish to have a conversation with you while you are touching my breasts or sticking anything in my nether regions. I don't care that your daughter goes to school in California or what you did on your 3 day weekend, I'm trying very hard to pretend that this isn't happening, and you're interfering with my daydream.

Would it be too much to ask to warn me that you're about to grope at my ovaries while mashing my stomach at the same time? And you seem surprised when that hurts. How could it not? you're palpating my innerds. Maybe I should shove my finger up your nose and press on your sinuses at the same time.

The whole experience is just very disturbing. If you're going to get all the way to 3rd base, you should at least play some mood music or buy me a cup of coffee first. Or better yet, alcohol. Can you imagine how much better this whole experience would be with a large margarita and an iPod? So so much better.

New Orleans Style

Monday, May 28, 2007

Our cat is a hunter. A mean, ferocious, hunter. About 3 or 4 months ago she was downstairs doing her hunting thing and we heard her make that victorious trip up the stairs (it sounds vaguely reminiscent of a herd of elephants thumping up the stairs). She ran into The Fiance's room, where we were sitting on the bed playing video games (yea, we're that kind of dorks), and she dropped her catch and rubbed against us triumphantly. So we prepared to dispose of whatever carcass she brought, only we genuintely couldn't figure out what it was. It looked a little like a cat turd, or a hair ball, and then eventually, we realized it had arms. And legs. And a tail. It was a lizard. By far the deadest lizard there has ever been (in relaying this story to my sister on the phone she thought I said "bed wizard" instead of dead lizard, which, I think is an ironically good description). It was so dead it hardly even resembled a lizard at all, but I think that about 2 weeks before that point, it was one. Yep, our cat is a hunter.

About 3 days ago, I spotted a lizard right off our front porch. I did my usual run up and try to spook it away so that we didn't step on it (and because really, I enjoy freaking them out a little), but it didn't move. The Fiance said it had been there the day before and surely it was dead. We got home a few hours later and the lizard was there, but it had turned 1/4 of a turn to the left. The next morning, it had turned another quarter. And this ridiculously slow movement has continued. Yesterday I caught it in action and saw it's foot move, so it's not dead, it's just moving REALLY REALLY slowly. Our new housemate suggested that we put it out of it's misery, which I hadn't even really considered. It doesn't seem to be in pain, I think it's just officially adopted the sedentary lifestyle of a true New Orleanian. That's a lizard I can get behind.

Excuse me while I eat my apple fritter on the couch. The wedding diet doesn't begin until I leave the state...

Yo Ho Yo Ho

Sunday, May 27, 2007

Yesterday was essentially comprised of watching Pirates of the Carribbean. We were going to see the 3rd movie (more on my feelings about trilogies another time) at night, so we thought it would be a reasonably good idea to watch the 2nd one earlier in the day since neither The Fiance nor I could remember exactly what had happened. It took about 4 hours to get through the 2nd one because I decided to take a nap right in the middle of it, but we finished it, and I found that I actually liked it better than the first time I saw it.

For the record, I have excellent hearing. I'm watching tv right now on volume level 8 (I'm not exaggerating for a change) and when I watch tv with The Fiance, or most people for that matter, we watch it somewhere between levels 25 and 37 (again, no exaggeration), I have bat hearing (that doesn't mean I always listen, but I hear very well). There is a woman in these movies, (the one who looks like she ate a whole bunch of black jelly beans and hasn't showered in decades), and she's just plain unintelligible. I cannot understand a single word she says, whether the volume is at 2 or 2000. The first time we saw Pirates 2, I thought she was speaking a different language. It doesn't help that she uses entirely the wrong tense (her = she, etc) and that you can't stare directly at her mouth for fear that it will ooze more black stuff, but seriously, would it kill them to make her accent just a *little* bit easier to listen to? We had to rewind Pirates 2 about 12 different times to even decipher the topic she was slurring about.

Then we saw the 3rd movie (no worries, I couldn't give you spoilers even if I wanted to). If I had to estimate, I'd say it was about a thousand hours long, give or take. And there were about 4 points during the movie where I couldn't tell if I was a) watching a really odd movie; b) having a nervous breakdown; or c) having a fantasy about Johnny Depp. I'm not saying it's a bad movie, because it's not bad, there are some great points in it. Really, great jokes, good plot twists, fun character, etc. It's just long. And hard to follow. And long. And so full of special effects it's mind boggling that robots haven't taken over the world. And did I mention it was long? Because it is.

There's no place like home...

Saturday, May 26, 2007

It's just getting there that's a bitch.

Friday, I embark on THE drive. The drive from my home here in New Orleans, to my home in California. 2000 miles of pure, endless....nothing. If you've ever driven interstate 10 from anywhere east of Texas to anywhere west of Texas, you know what I'm talking about. 800 MILES OF TEXAS. 800. And there's absolutely nothing to look at on this particular route. I'm not trying to bad mouth Texas (though I do it from time to time...), but it's probably the most boring 800 mile stretch you could find in the universe. Along the way you get to see a nice showing of tumble weeds, some gorgeous cacti and as always, many many different varieties of dirt. You drive through like 2-3 hours of Louisiana, and then like 3 and a half weeks of Texas.

The 10 freeway is going to be the end of all my sanity. If I don't update for several days next week, it's not because I don't have internet access, it's because my brain will have melted so much I won't remember how to spell my own name.

Anyone have a pair of ruby slippers handy?


Thursday, May 24, 2007

One of the cool things we did on my 24th birthday was go to "Rock and Bowl." It's an older bowling alley that's made special by the fact that they have live bands play each night. It's one of the New Orleans "institutions" that we'd always heard about but never had the occasion (read: the money) to go. They have a country night, a zydeco night, and so on, always a little different. It's a pretty cool place, the gigantic bar certainly doesn't hurt. On my birthday we had a reservation for 10pm for a lane, which was great because it was precisely when the band, Bonerama (obviously one of our favorites...), was set to play.

We got there at 9:50, as told and were forced to choke down a 10 buck a piece cover charge. For BONERAMA. Then we went to set up our lane. Well, the place is done by the hour, so we had to wait until 10:10 when she shut the lanes down and we'd be able to bowl at 10:15. Also, we couldn't get shoes because they were all rented out, so we had to wait. For warm shoes. Warm public shoes. I think I just threw up a little bit thinking about it. But we paid our lane and shoe fees and then waited to bowl.

Our lane was eventually free and we got started. We bowled like 2 frames when the woman 2 lanes over from us came looking for bowling our ball corral. Really. So I went up to her because I was particularly annoyed by this (and because I had the lightest ball and I didn't want her to take it) and informed her. The exchange went something like this:

Me: "Excuse me, what are you doing?"
Her: "Looking for a ball (a "duh" was implied in the tone here), we don't have any"
Me: "Um, yes, but these are our balls"
Her: (with excessive attitude) "What, you brought all your balls from home?"
Me: silence in awe of the amazing attitude and stupidity in light of the fact that there were 8 trillion other bowling balls in the racks behind us but that our corral was the only place she could manage to track down a ball. And I think a mumbled out an "of course we didn't bring them from home, but that doesn't mean you can walk up and take them."

Her daughter then pointed out the huge racks of balls behind us and she went back to spreading absurdity elsewhere.

The highlight of the evening though was my step-dad's bowling ball. Being that it was the heaviest, it wouldn't ever make it back into our ball corral thing. It would get all the way there, and then fall and roll all the way back down the alley, so he had to catch it each time, and he often forgot and then there was much standing around and waiting while it CRAWLED back down the chute. And then he was so afraid the woman was going to take it, he held it in his lap until his next turn. It was like he had a pet bowling ball. There are pictures, they are great.

And Bonerama? Surprisingly entertaining and surprisingly was a brass band of relatively older men, not a punk band of 14 year olds who laugh everytime you say their band name.

Shining Moment

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

I am sorry for the delay in posting. First I had to acquire The Fiance's permission (he said, and I quote, "you can tell anyone you want" and subsequently, as soon as the thunder and lightning stop and I come out from under the bed, I'll be climbing onto the roof to shout it to the neighbors), then I was entertaining family, then I was sick, then I was entertaining family some more, and well, I've been a little unplugged from the internet lately. But not to worry, I'm back to having tons of free time to sit here and have severe writer's block episodes once more.

Let's see, what have you missed...

The Fiance and I went out to a fancy brunch on my birthday, just the two of us, as a birthday present from his parents (let me clarify that, his parents are NOT here, they just bought us lunch from afar, which is the way I like it). The Fiance brought my very very large birthday present in with us, I think mostly to embarrass me, which is okay by me, because presents in pretty much any setting, are awesome. We were seated in a private little corridor within the restaurant, which was very nice. In general, I like to be in private areas, especially on my birthday when there's a good chance that singing will occur, which embarrasses the crap out of me. We had great appetizers, then our main course, and finally, after 2 weeks of staring at that present, I got to open it. It is a BEAUTIFUL jewlery bureau (it looks a little like this though it's got a little more design on the front). It really was a great birthday brunch.

(You didn't really think I was done, did you?)

So after the present opening, they came by to make our bananas foster (yum) and I had turned around to watch them flame it, because secretly, I am a little scared that they're going to burn off their eyebrows and it's a little like a trainwreck. I don't want to see it happen, but I have to watch. So after waiting for the guy to flame the bananas for like 5 minutes, The Fiance tapped me on my shoulder and told me to turn around. When I did so, there was a plate with one of the silver domed tops on it (like room service stuff you see on tv).

Now, the rest of this is a little foggy, I know what happened, I don't remember the order precisely. But it went something like this, I lifted the dome, saw a small turquoise blue box with a white ribbon, one that looked something like this...Then The Fiance was on one knee, where he started off with, "This is your last chance to say no..." and well, I didn't say no of course. And then I opened the box and found the most incredibly gorgeous ring I've ever seen in my life. Don't believe me, here's a picture (though it was taken with my computer webcam, so it doesn't do justice to the sparkliness and it looks like I'm wearing it on my right hand, trust me, it's on my left).

Now I know what you're thinking, aren't you already engaged? Yes, we were/are. The Fiance and I discussed things a while ago, and we decided that the committment we were making was far more important than a ring, and that because we're both so far in debt that it'll be roughly 10 decades before we're in the black instead of red, that we would move on and do things our own way, and I don't regret it for a minute. Trust me, I LOVE the ring (I'm like a kid with ADD, I stop mid-sentence to stare at it all the time), but I loved The Fiance just as much without the ring on, and the engagement was just as real. Just maybe a little less sparkly. Because, it's REALLY REALLY sparkly.

So you can see why my birthday was so exciting then huh? Several other things happened that day that I'll get around to. But for now, I just want to let the ring have it's shining moment before I go back to mocking perfect strangers and telling you about how the lightning outside is causing me to have several mini-strokes.

Let me know if the pictures don't work. I'm trying this hyperlink thing for the first time and the internet couldn't be slower or more obnoxious. Clearly it doesn't realize the importance of the ring pictures.

Oh the irony.

Well, I didn't need a forklift to get home from the restaurant, but I'm pretty sure I had a stomach virus Sunday night, which definitely stopped some of the eating. I have been feeling alright since, but the Fiance seems to have it now. It's nothing horrible, and it may very well just be that we've eaten so very much that our bodies are rejecting all food now, but know that we are alive and expect an extra special update tonight/tomorrow.


Waiter...forklift please.

Sunday, May 20, 2007

I have done more eating in the last week than in most of the rest of my natural born life. When anyone's parents come to town we always get really excited because it means good food that we don't pay for, which really, is just the best kind of food. Hell, even bad food we don't pay for is pretty awesome.

Yesterday I went out to a very special brunch with the Fiance (more details to come on that, if I get permission from The Fiance first), which consisted of a Warm Baked Apple in Double Cream (I think I earned myself an angioplasty there), then a wonderful shrimp cajun cocktail, followed with bananas foster, where I think the person doing the flambe-ing almost lost his eyebrows (and I felt the warmth of the flame nearly 10 feet away). It was quite a flame. Then as a mid-afternoon snack, since we'd had a big brunch and were going out to dinner, we had an order of cheese fries (I'm thinking double bypass now, but it was deliciously good). And dinner was a chicken cesear sandwhich with friend onion strings and a piece of cheesecake. I know, I'm just asking for multiple heart surgeries, but it hurts so good.

Now today, we're going out to brunch again (we're brunch people, can you tell?) and I can already tell you what I'll be ordering, because I look forward to this place like a fat kid looks forward to going to a candy store (pretty soon, I might be that fat kid). I'm going to start with Bananas Foster Beignets for my appetizer and then a wonderful wonderful salad for my main course and hopefully more bananas foster for dessert. And then we're going out to dinner later. And probably to Cafe du Monde for regular Beignets. I think I can hear my arteries clogging as I write this.

I'm telling you, by the time my mom goes home, I'm going to weigh 3000 pounds and you're going to see a tv special about how they have to lift me off the couch with a forklift. But not to worry, I have a laptop with wireless internet, so I'll still be here, you won't miss a beat.

Now go eat something, you know you want to.

On being 24...and infested...

Saturday, May 19, 2007

You know, people always ask you how it feels to be a different age and my standard reply is "pretty much the same as it felt to be (one year younger than how old I am now)." But this year, I actually feel older. There's something about knowing that I've been driving for 8 years now that makes me feel like a real adult. There's something about knowing that I had the big double-digits birthday 14 years ago that makes me feel...old. Well not old, but grown. It feels mostly good. What didn't feel good was the fact that every other teacher in our building got a cake and small to-do on their birthday or on the Friday before and literally everyone forgot mine. Yes, in case you wondered, it stings...a lot.

In other news, our house is infested with humongous cockroaches. They fly. And I'm pretty sure they sing and tap dance too. They creep me out, yes, but if one crawls in my room in the middle of the night, I'd prefer it just eat me alive. Wednesday night there was shreaking coming from all rooms of the house. First the Fiance. He was standing on the bed, waving around a roll of wrapping paper. Then, when he managed to knock it onto the floor, he grabbed the laser pointer to try to get the cat to attack it. The cat did attack the laser, but was completely oblivious to the cockroach. Then, because cockroaches are funny like that, one crawled up onto his bedside table, where he then did the big sweeping off of the surface and tried several times to drop a book on it. It's kind of a miracle anything in that room isn't broken into a hundred small pieces. But, I know that he was trying to save us all from a long and painful death by staring contest with the roach, so I'm just grateful for his show of bravery (hi honey!).

Then there was a scream from the housemate's room. She said she literally tripped over one (honestly, they're so big, I wouldn't put it past them) and then on her way back to bed, one flew into her bed. I had visions of her burning her contract on that bed, but so far she's decided just to sleep with the lights on indefinitely, which is a-okay with me. As long as she does it quietly, she can sleep in a cockroach proof net if she wants. After she killed the bed-cockroach, one crawled out from behind her bookcase, so she really had the trifecta of roaches, and possibly a small stroke.

All I've really garnered from this experience is that I much prefer cockroaches when they're not waking me up in the middle of the night. Wait, no, I really prefer other human beings when they don't wake me up in the middle of the night (even though I acknowledge both their extreme fear of roaches and they're attempts to protect my life). Cockroaches I'm kind of generally ambivalent about.

Slow Motion

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

This is the longest week in the history of time. Is it really only Tuesday? Really? Sigh.

Things are happening in wedding central, though, as all things right now, it's happening at a snail's pace. The only real new development is that one of the places I'd been considering for the wedding is so far out of our price range that it's almost laughable. And can I say that the idea of a food/beverage minimum is absolutely absurd? Seriously though, it's not like we're going to order food for 50 people and split it to serve 100, there's no need for a minimum (seriously, where's the trust/love?). And more importantly, I'm not sure where these places get their chicken, fish and steak, but they are getting severey ripped off, because if someone charged me 85 bucks for a steak, mashed potatoes, a glass of wine and a slice of cake, I'd probably have to tip an extra five bucks for them to pick my jaw up off the table. So lest you were thinking you were invited to the wedding, I can assure you you're not. It's nothing personal, at this price, I'm not sure I'm going to invite The Fiance.

What's really sad is that I don't have writer's block right now, I just have absolutely nothing to write about. I have no work, no school, there's not really much else I can do about the wedding right now, short of planting a money producing tree, which I hear are getting quite scarce, so I'm just sitting on my ass doing nothing for hours on end, which sounds nice, right? But it's not. There's only so many websites I can read and walls I can stare at before I need to find something to do. There must be some happy medium between being so busy I can't take a deep breath and so free that I'm about to pass out from boredom (and note that this lack of things to do and excess of time doesn't mean that I'm actually going to do any of things on my long to-do lists or actually email people back like a normal curteous human being would, I'd rather sit around and whine about how difficult my life is).

In an attempt to deal with the boredom and total lack of having anything to do I have been going through a variety of "chick flicks" while The Fiance studies for the board exams since he won't watch them with me (or rather because if I do finally convince him to watch them with me, I'm going to owe him several guy movies in exchange). I rented "Because I Said So" this weekend and I absolutely loved it. There was a lot more adult humor than I'd anticipated, but it was still quite enjoyable. I may have to own it. Then I watched "Catch and Release" which was good, but not great. It wanted to be sad and love story-y, but it just wasn't. It really wasn't bad, it just wasn't really anything. Which is the same phenomena with "The Holiday" which I'm listening to while I type this. Maybe I'm asking too much, but it, like everything in the universe right now, is moving quite slowly. Cut to the chase already, seriously. It's not like I have hours to sit around.

In the spirit of curing my boredom, if you know of any chick flicks or otherwise good movies I should see, please feel free to recommend them in the comment section. If it's come out in the last year, I likely haven't seen it, but keep in mind, I don't do any science fiction or "old" movies. Only recent stuff, and preferably lighthearted. It's hard to believe that I can't find anything to satiate my boredom huh? What with the not being picky at all :)

Okay, I'm done, I should probably watch the rest of the movie or the story-line is going to haunt me for maybe twice as long as it's taken to get to this point in the movie. Which is a long time, because EVERYTHING is in slow motion today.

Coincidence? I think not.

Monday, May 14, 2007

Okay, creepy stalker man from Starbucks last Sunday, was totally there AGAIN yesterday. Apparently he's a regular on Sundays, for no apparent reason. Creepy creepy creepy.

Oh, and have I mentioned that I don't like thunder and lightning? Really? Because I'm about to come unravelled. Holy hell. Excuse me while I go crawl up inside of myself.

To my Mom on Mother's Day

Sunday, May 13, 2007

It's Mother's Day and my Mom is in New York on vacation, which I guess is actually better than her being home. It means that she's not celebrating with my sister but without me, and since she's coming to New Orleans next week, technically I get to see her first for a change (nee-ner nee-ner nee-ner)

My Mom has always been one of my best friends. We lived alone together for 3 years, and the incredibly rough road that we both travelled brought us very close together. When I got to high school age, we both got very busy. She had a new job and worked at our church and I had school, sports and church, but we always set aside one night a week for us. On Thursday nights we took turns cooking, though it was almost always the same wonderfully simple, yet great meal (p.s. she's a great cook, don't judge her on what I'm about to say), Mac and Cheese (from the nice blue box) and Caesar Salad from a bag. It was always GOOD. After we cooked dinner we'd sit down, talk about our days/weeks and then we'd watch "Must See TV" and escape the realities of our lives for a while. Those nights rank among some of the best in my life.

She was a great parent, but by the time it was just her and me I was pretty much a straight arrow (I was!). I didn't break rules (okay, I did once and her reaction was to LAUGH because she thought it was hilarious) because I was afraid to disappoint her, and I didn't lie to her. I'd like to think that deep down I made her job as a parent easy, but I think it was probably just balancing it all out since I was a hellacious child. She and I shared a lot of tough times. We lived with my grandparents for almost a year after she and my dad split up and we were forced to sell our house to send my (perfect) sister to college. And let me tell you, that year? well it was interesting. I loved my grandmother dearly, but if we'd stayed there maybe a week longer, I'm not sure that I'd be sane enough to type this today.

My mom and I also shared a lot of moments I'm sure she'd rather I didn't share (like the time we walked in an hour late for church, completely oblivious to the time change) and a lot of just really good times. The number of games of yahtzee we've played, the number of episodes of Gilmore Girls we've watched and the number of nice long walks and good conversations that have been had are uncountable (she loves me so much that she won't point out how horribly grammatically incorrect that sentence was). The sheer amount of time that she and I have spent talking, chatting and laughing on the yellow couch in our "entry room" is amazing. I won't lie and say that we haven't had our share of arguments, because boy have we, but she's supported every decision I've made, whether she agreed with it or not.

I love my mother for who she is and for everything she's given me. Without her, I wouldn't have been able to go to college, let alone survive it. She gave me the ability to spread my wings and live a different life than perhaps either of us had imagined. Leaving her last August was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. The look on her face when I got into the car is something I'll never be able to erase from my mind, and the advice she gave me, through big gulping sobs and tears is something that I'll carry with me forever. I still talk to her almost every day, and I scarcely make a big decision without checking with her first. She's my mom, and she's always gone above and beyond the call of duty in everything.

So what I'm getting at (besides the obvious fact that I am one big sap now) is that on this Mother's Day, I hope my mother knows just how much I love her and how much I appreciate everything she's done for me. She shaped me into the person I am today, and I only hope that when I grow up and have children, that I may be half the mother, role model, and friend that she was for me.

Happy Mother's Day Mom.

10 Things About Me

Saturday, May 12, 2007

I'm not going to reveal how long this post has actually taken to write, but let's just say it's not flowing out from my fingertips freely. I feel like some of you already know me very intimately, so trying to come up with something new is like trying to bake a cake out of thin air (mmmm cake). But, here goes nothing.


10. I'm an early riser, always have been, but I am NOT a morning person. So I get up early, I just don't like to be talked to for several hours thereafter. As a kid I'd wake up before it was even light out and every morning I made my parents come into the living room and turn the tv on for me, because I was profoundly afraid of walking in there alone.

9. I am terrified by horror movies. The only one I've ever seen is Scream and it creeps me out just thinking about it. Movies in general make me very tense, so suspense or horror movies make me come a little bit unhinged.

8. I don't like old movies. This particular quality drives The Fiance crazy, but if I didn't see a movie that came out 10 years ago, chances are, I'm not going to watch it now. I don't know where this comes from, but I've never liked old movies. Casablanca made me want to jam rusty spoons in my ears and scoop out little bits of my brain. The one problem with this issue of mine is that my parents did not allow me to see PG-13 rated movies until I was 13 and R rated movies until I was 17, so there are A LOT of movies I've never seen.

7. I've never voluntarily watched any of the Star Wars or Lord of the Rings movies (I had to watch the original 1st Star Wars movie for English class in high school, but I had to rent it and watch it at home because I fell asleep in class). In fact, until recently, I boycotted all triologies because I felt they were money making schemes. But the real truth is that I think I'd kill something if forced to watch either of these sets of films. I just can't get into the science fiction stuff, I think I'm just too cool.

6. I've never been good at a single sport in my life. I've tried a lot of them, and through hard work I've been decent, but no one ever watched me and said, dang, she's GOOD at that. 14 years of ballet and 8 years of diving, and I wanted it so badly. Sometimes I worry that I'll never find my niche, but I also know that I'm good at other things. I hope my kids are more coordinated than I am.

5. I love my eyes. Everyone thinks they're brown upon first glance, but when you look they're actually a light green on the outside and and a little bit brown in the middle. They look just like my mom's and I love them, even if no one else notices (side note, The Fiance noticed them on like our second date and I'll never forget that compliment).

4. I can't stand the silent treatment. If you really want to make me feel bad about something or want to make me generally upset, stop talking to me. You'll see an extra special version of me.

3. When I was 20 I was sexually assaulted. I didn't tell anyone when it happened and when I did tell them, I always downplayed the truth. It was awful and it took a long time for me to find a place of normalcy with other people again. He apologized to me this year in a very random email which I didn't respond to. Somewhere, deep down, it felt good to know that he knows he did something wrong and to know that he does not have my forgiveness.

2. I've always secretly wanted to be famous. Not like a movie star or a singer or anything like that, but for doing something important. I wanted to cure some disease, or strike a peace plan for the world or discover something amazing. I've always been a big dreamer, and I think that's part of why the reality of what I'm doing with my life (in terms of career only) has been disappointing and might possibly explain why I'm back in school, torturing myself 2 LONG classes at a time.

1. My life has not turned out at all as I'd planned it. And for that, I am so grateful.


Friday, May 11, 2007

Okay, first, I deleted the survey. It was obnoxious and I only put it up because I had a profound case of writer's block, which has since been somewhat alleviated. Also, I've been tagged by Kim to do "10 things" about me thing (Kim, just keep in mind that payback, much like karma, is a bitch...), so stay tuned for that tomorrow because I can't think of one single thing to share right now that you don't already know.

Today is the 4 month mark of my engagement to The Fiance. I don't actually keep count, I just looked at a calendar today and realized it. With school finally being finished and work winding down, I'm starting to plan the wedding, and while it is overwhelming, it's also starting to take some shape and I'm really really excited. I may have found a location and we may be somewhere near finding a date, it's exciting, terrifying, and wonderful, all at once. I'm getting married. There was a time where I didn't believe in love, didn't think I'd ever marry, so every once in a while I have to pinch myself to make sure it's real.

4 months ago when The Fiance asked me to marry him, I think I underwent a chemical change in my nervous system. Since that day in January, I have been the most girliest version of myself, which if you know me, is actually a pretty big change. I now cry (real tears!) when sentimental songs are played on the radio (even ones I've heard multiple times), I remember monthly anniversaries and I find myself overcome with my love for The Fiance. I feel like a completely different person, but possibly a better one. One with emotions.

We saw Spiderman 3 together this afternoon and it immediately took me back to the summer we started dating. Spiderman 2 was one of our early dates and it will go down in history for us because it was our first kiss. Not my first kiss (I actually thought about that and realized that my first kiss was 8 years ago. I. am. old.), not his first kiss, but our first kiss. It's been nearly 3 years and if possible, I love him more than ever. My heart literally swells with affection and I feel like sometimes I smile from the inside out (though I cleverly hide it with a scowl). He has seen me at my worst and he's still here. I feel more at home with him than I do at any geographic location, and there's no place I'd rather be than snuggled beside him.

The Fiance is not perfect, but I do not love him in spite of his imperfection, I love him a little more because of them. Secretly, deep down, I love that he's afraid of bugs. I don't particularly care for bugs myself, but the look on his face when I spare him from an inevitable and painful death by cockroach is irreplacable. I love that he loves simplicity, but not repetition. I can eat the same thing everyday and never bat an eye. He on the other hand, would go batshit crazy. It's just not his thing. But at the same time, he revels over things like sushi and brownies (both of which he has listed as loving slightly more than me, and that's fine, because he knows that deep down I love cake a little more than him). It's nothing fancy, but he loves it. I love that he laughs out loud. Loudly. It's truly contagious because he's so genuinely tickled that he can't contain his noise level, even when we're in public. I thought he might wet his pants last night watching The Office and Scrubs, and it was just so fun to be around. I love him a little less when the laughing is done AT me in public, but the summation of the love is still positive. I love him for never pretending to be what he is not, for his insecurities and most of all, for his support. I really never imagined that you could feel this way for another person and even now, almost 3 years later, he still gives me that excited butterfly feeling in my stomach and occasionally the love that I have for him takes my breath away.

And if that isn't so cheesy that you want to vomit out of a window, I'm just not sure what is.

The Eerie Silence of Completion

Thursday, May 10, 2007

As you may have garnered from my last post, I am taking a few courses at a local university to work on a pseudo-Master's degree (I'm doing all the classes that I'd need for a Master's, I'm just choosing not to actually get the degree). Of course, I'm also working 40 plus hours per week. I was talking to someone about it at work yesterday and upon learning that I was going to school voluntarily she looked at me and said, "oh, so you're just stupid then." Yes. Yes, I am.

BUT, I'm officially done (done, finished, tomato/tomahto, I'm not an english teacher) for the semester and I'm finding myself deafened by the silence of inactivity. You have to understand that the past 4 months have been LOUD months. I had a biology class I was taking 2 nights a week and a biology lab, both of which were given by the same professor, who for his own protection won't be named, but he was a piece of work. If I had to describe him, I'd say he was about as like to Will Ferrel's Satuday Night Live Weekend Update character with the voice modulation problems as imagineable. It's like he was yelling at everyone about everything. And he'd emphasize the oddest syllables and words.

"Tonight we're GOing to learn aBOUT the structure OF proteins!!!!!"

Dude, no one is that excited about proteins. No one. So I endured 4 months, 3 times a week of that. Oh and he spit when he spoke. If I had a question in lab I'd always try every other resource before raising my hand. Excuse me professor, I want the news, not the weather. And by the way, brushing one's teeth isn't a crime.

I was also taking an online chemistry course. In this course the learning was all on you, but it was also all optional, because really, when you're taking online tests, it's really all about being a good googler, not about how much you learned. We got online notes, homework and quizzes and had to complete the work within a set timeframe. You'd be right in the middle of the notes and he'd insert some sort of web-lingo, usually "lol". So it'd be something like, "and when the electrons are ejected, they no longer attract each other. *lol*" There was no rhyme or reason for them and they were EVERYWHERE. He'd put them in the answers to quizzes the comments on tests, just wherever the mood stuck him. So one day, some smartass college student asked him on the discussion board what "lol" meant, because he couldn't figure out the chemical composition (naturally, there's not a chemical compound of lol). The professor replied, "Dear (name I won't print), Of course lol is not a chemical compound, it's an abbreviation for "Laugh A Lot". Sincerely, Professor Doesn'twanttenure.

Um. Okay. Except laugh a lot doesn't form the acronym lol. So not only does the man severely overuse lol, he doesn't even know what it stands for.

And of course, the whole time I've been taking these courses, my partner in fighting crime, The Fiance, has been full time in medical school, so the noise of my bio professor, my chemistry professor and The Fiance diagnosing himself with every disease in his pathology book has been overwhelming (just kidding...mostly. He has had a severe bout of hepatic splenomegaly since he first read that word sometime last year. It's his excuse for anything he doesn't want to do, you know, the hepatic splenomegaly is a real bitch, especially when it flares up when I need him to clear his dinner plates). He too is finished for the semester, though I'm pretty sure the splengomegaly will be around for a while. And now, now that I have a Thursday with no afterwork extracurricular activity, no biology lab, nothing, I'm bored. I'm actually bored. It's not that I don't have anything to do (um, like plan a whole wedding...hmmm), I just don't have anything I HAVE to do. Or listen to. Or study.

It's weird, but deep down I'm really beginning to like the sound of free time. lol.

The Cycle of Insanity.

Tuesday, May 8, 2007

***5 HOUR mark: Nope, I'm not kidding. It's 10:08, precisely 5 hours after I sent the first (of 5) emails alerting my professor to the problem. Apparently Dr. Idon'twanttenure isn't checking his inbox tonight, which is all different kinds of ridiculous to me. But at this point, I'm not sure I'm sane enough to judge.

**2 HOUR mark: I'm staring at the same screen. "Assessment has already been completed, click to review results" [click] "Assessment has not been completed, you cannot review the results." SERIOUSLY. Oh and did I mention that I've now sent 3 emails, each getting progressively nastier? Because I have, and I'm about 3 minutes away from typing the email titled "Asshat, check your email before I contact the dean." But what I'm really looking forward to is completing the course evaluation after I finish. That outta be a peach.

Excuse me for a moment while I yell.

SO many things have gone wrong or badly today. SO MANY. Right now, while I'm typing this, I'm waiting for my jerkface professor (he really is a jerkface, not just because he's not getting back to me) to fix a problem with the STUPIDEST online schooling system, blackboard so I can finish, (or rather begin, since I only did one question and looked at another before it locked me out) my chemistry test. This is the last thing I have left to do for the academic quarter and IT WON'T FREAKING WORK. For the love of all that is good and sacred, if you are an online professor and you're giving a test where if students encounter problems they are to email you YOU SHOULD BE SITTING AT YOUR COMPUTER ALLLLLLLLLL DAY. Not just in the morning, not just at noon, but in the evening so that those of us who have jobs and aren't 19 years old and ALREADY ON SUMMER BREAK can get help too. AND you may want to tell us more than 1 day before the test that the test covers 4 chapters not 3 and that oh by the way NONE OF THE QUESTIONS ARE ANYTHING LIKE THE HOMEWORK OR QUIZZES.

Did you hear that? It was my brain, exploding.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, Here's a bunch of commas. Put them in to break up the run on sentences. All that can come from my proofreading is more capital letters.

More bang for my 'bucks

Sunday, May 6, 2007

I spend a lot of time at starbucks, which is hugely ironic since I don't drink caffiene. No, I'm not Mormon, or one of those crunchy-granola types of people, I'm just stupid. I made a very stupid decision to stop drinking the sweet wonderful nectar of the gods (diet I long for your sweet sweet loving) when I realized that if I didn't drink it in the morning, I was a sad, and rather mean version of myself. And really, I'm never cranky...ha. So I've been caffiene free since December (save for one Diet Coke and rum, but that was a revenge drink and involves a long uninteresting story) and there hasn't been a day I haven't longed for it.

Anyways, today I was sitting in one of the "comfy" non-wooden sofa chairs at Starbucks minding my own business, studying for my biology final. I had all my stuff contained in a small area, was quiet and not intruding on anyone else's space or life. I was apparently the only one in that category. First, there was a man sitting to my right. Now, there was nothing particularly offensive about this individual, except that he wasn't doing anything. He was just sitting at Starbucks, sipping a water. He was not (obviously) homeless (or if he was, I want to eat at the homeless shelter he does (I know that's horrible)), he was not working, not reading, he was just sitting there. Watching. At one point he took a call on his cell phone and commented that there were a lot of people studying at Starbucks today, which made me wonder just how much time he spends sitting in the corner of Starbucks. I don't mean to start any grand conspiracy, but it was creepy. And he was still there when I left, with a new glass of water. Perhaps his tap at home doesn't work?

About 2 hours into my study fest a group of 4 people came my way including a guy, who looked either very sick or oddly old and three young girls (like 18-20ish). One of the girls sat down in the empty chair to my left (so that's creepy guy on right, young girl on left) and then the other three created a little circle around her so they could talk. Now I was obviously studying. I had my 8 trillion notecards out, headphones on and was very into what I was doing and yet, for some reason, they felt it necessary to be loud, to hit my stuff, and just be generally unpleasant. He guy kept going on and on about "how nice it would be if there was another open chair nearby." And how great it would be "if someone would just share their space." I was waiting for him to nudge me or just outright pick me up out of my chair (though I think I oughtweighed him by like 30 pounds). It took everything I had not to tell that assclown that I had been there for 2 hours, that I had a comprehensive final exam the next day and that if he suggested I move once more I was going to throw his cup of coffee on him and then breathe in the caffiene fumes. Seriously. It's first come first serve and you don't SHARE seats at Starbucks. After possibly 15 minutes of that absurdity, they left, all glaring at my as they exited. I triumphanty sat up, spread my stuff out some more and reclaimed my territory.

I truly do not understand some people. Like the ones who voluntairly give up caffiene. Perhaps we're the real crazies.

Noah's Ark 2007

Friday, May 4, 2007

I was awakened at 2:45 this morning by what I can only describe as an apocalyptic storm. And no, I'm not even exaggerating one bit. Really, the world may have come to a halt briefly around 3 this morning. Or perhaps it was just the top of my blood pressure reaching the 3000 mark. Whatever it was, I woke up this morning and toyed with the idea of constructing my own ark. Only, you know, without the animals. I'm pretty sure God would frown upon the situation, but frankly, besides my cat, I have no desire to save any animals around here.

The native creatures here include the biggest cockroaches on the face of the earth. They're roughly the size of my freakishly big foot and oddly, I'm the only person in the house capable to dealing with them. Last night, some unnamed adult male FREAKED out because there was a cockroach in the trashcan (which to me seems like a pretty great place for one). So I went to close it and a tiny little infant cockroach fell on the floor, which I squished and threw it into the garbage bag. No harm, no foul. I had no sooner grabbed the bag when the queen mother of the cockroaches emerged and made a break for my hand. I don't know much, but I'm pretty sure the cockroach was developing opposable thumbs. And claws. And poisonous fangs. After regaining my composure (and finding a new pair of underwear), I sealed the bag and threw it away, bugs and all.

Another native species we're currently dealing with are caterpillars. Yes, you heard me right. They're very cute and fuzzy looking, but they sting like a bee. Not in the metaphorical way either, they literally sting you. It's sort of confusing. It's like if Snuggles the fabric softner bear had vampire fangs.

And finally, the last, and perhaps most demeaning native animal is the neighbor's cat, who comes over to flaunt his thin frame in front of our extra extra wide cat. For the record cat, our cat doesn't need to see you, she's not "overweight", she's just big boned. And has a large frame. And LOVES cat food. And people food. And bugs. And dust bunnies. And virtually anything small enough to be ingested, and a few things that are too big. Sigh, I'm sure we'll never figure out her weight problem.

I suppose this is all part of the beauty of the South. And by beauty I mean super pain in the ass-ness.

An Apple a day

Wednesday, May 2, 2007

So the months of the year (on your your OTHER right) are in Spanish.* Why? Because computers LOVE me.

When I went off to college I bought a Compaq something-or-other desktop computer. Said computer was pretty good, but it was a desktop and they don't travel as well. It's harder to sit on the "quad" with the cool kids when you have to take your desktop computer and plug it in and set it up. You know? So after I got the settlement from a car accident (not only do computers love me, wreckless drivers are also big fans) I bought a laptop, a Dell. The Dell-from-hell was a fine computer as cheap laptops go. It ran on Windows XP which had just come out and for the first, oh, maybe 6 hours, it was great. And then the "blue screens of death" began. I'd be in the middle of a paper (which I never saved because everyone knows you can't stop the creative process to SAVE THE PAPERS) and it would just flash to blue and tell me that it had a big case of the I'm-screwed-ups and shut down. Lather, rinse, repeat easily 3 times a day. The Dell service people sent me Christmas cards, we knew each other quiet intimately.

One afternoon I called Dell (I believe the call center is located somewhere near Pakistan...) and was being assisted by someone who had me running diagnostic tests. For such a crappy computer, it ran really good diagnostic tests. Inaccurate ones, but good ones. At the end of the last diagnostic test it flashed to a black screen (of death) and told me that it had a malfunctioning fan and a "core meltdown" was "eminent." No really, it did. Not dramatic at all. A CORE MELTDOWN. It literally had a countdown clock to the melting point. I turned it off, gave it a minute and turned it back on. And it worked just fine. Core meltdown over. Just like that.

After the 4th time I reinstalled Windows onto that computer from a major crash and after losing half of my Senior Thesis (and because I got a settlement from another car accident, no really, I swear), I bought an Apple laptop, the now defunct iBook. Behold the beauty of a computer that doesn't crash, doesn't flash blue screens that doesn't freeze all the time. Sadly that computer only lasted about a year and a few months and because I was naive to the beauty of their protection plan, I had no way to pay for a new motherboard, monitor and disc drive. So now I have my second apple, which I can proudly say I've only dropped twice since it's purchase, which is roughly 1/1000th of the number of times I dropped it's predecessor. Typing on an apple makes me feel smarter, things work, it's amazing. No right click this, left click that, just CLICK ON IT.

And now I'm going to conquer the internet. I doubt they have call-in customer service to help with good blogging ideas, but if they do, surely I'll have just as wondeful a relationship with them as I did with the fine folks at Dell.

*This issue resolved itself on it's own. Next week they'll probably be in Sanscrit...

Overheard at Starbucks

"Tall Vanilla Latte, extra hot."

"I told you not to call me that in public!"

Seriously. I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.