quick, dirty and boring.

I'm still alive and kicking, just incredibly busy. Who knew grad school meant you had no time? Hmm.

I basically live on campus between my own classes, teaching labs, office hours and doing my own research. And, FYI, I'm finally getting a decent amount of awesome cell growth, it only took 3 months to get 6 total kick ass culture flasks, some mediocre ones, and then a slough of crappy ones. But hey, that's science right? However, because it's taken so long, I watch over those babies like a hawk. You know how a lioness protects her cubs at the cost of her life? Forget that, I'll protect them at the cost of your life because if anyone jacks with them I fear I will not be able to control my inner beast! Rawr.

When I'm not holed up in this building....never seeing the light of day....I'm actually hanging out with other grads and co-workers, which is pretty spectacular. There are some awesome kids here and that makes the pain a little easier to deal with, as does the beer. Beer, in a dry country, what? Let's hear it for some loophole allowing bars and restaurants to serve booze.

A few weeks ago I flew home for a whirlwind trip to LA and Disneyland to run the half marathon again. We finished, 10 minutes faster than last year amazingly enough, but my god was it bloody painful. That's what happens when you move several months before a major run and have zero time to train. But it was great to see the fam, especially that ADORABLE and chubby nephew of mine. He's absolutely gorgeous!

Things haven't changed much as far as everyday life goes. I still maim myself frequently, I was sporting a bruised goose egg on my arm for a week or so from running into the lab door. I now have the marks of a molecular biologist: bruises on the undersides of my forearms from working in my culture hood. Schveet.

The temperature has dropped a bit, so I don't feel quite like I'm living on the surface of the sun still, which is fantastic. I can actually go outside and enjoy it!

That's bout it, boring I know, but unless you want all the nitty gritty details on cell culturing, that's all I've got folks! Time to go study for my first round of exams, joy.

this has to make me like a black belt in bad ass or something.

What makes a good day go bad fast? When you set your washing machine to do a quick load, run an errand and come back to find that the water is still sitting in the tub.

Seethe.

Weep.

Then get pissed. I pulled out the tools, ripped the back of the machine off, read the technical papers, googled the shit out of the problem, cuss, sweat, cuss some more, finally think that maybe it's something simple and not a grand technical issue that's going to require you to hand bail out the water in the tub and wring out the clothes before throwing in the still functioning dryer, and take a screw driver and JAM it in the spot where the lid switch is....

and the machine springs to life and spins.

Really?

REALLY?!

So what does one do to avoid having someone come in and dismantle the beast to replace a freaking plastic thing that's no longer poking down far enough?

Well this chick learned from MacGyver, took a waxing stick (think popsicle stick), snapped it off and tapped it to the plastic thing that's supposed to activate the switch.

And guess what?

It bloody works.

Can I get my belt now? I really need to go serve up some ninja justice.

i think i'd make a pretty hot alien.

I think I moved to the surface of the sun. And because of the non-stop triple digit heats plus humidity, my life outside of work has been decidedly dull as the thought of going outside induces my sweat glands to enlarge in preparation, it's just not worth it.

For example, I had to run a shite-ton of errands yesterday, so I get into my boiling hot car, crank the A/C, which takes until I get several miles down the road to blow even  modestly cool air thanks to how hot it is, park a mile away at the mall on a Saturday (kill. me. now) and then zip through as fast as I can through all the teeny boppers and families to get what I need and get the hell out. But that ALSO makes you hot and sweaty. It's like a bloody catch-22. At least I was able to do a sweet photo bomb with this group of adults, but I blame them for taking a candid photo...in the mall.

I've also been working just about 7 days a week, but it's not so bad. It's nice and cool in the lab :) The project I'm working on basically requires constant monitoring, so I have to go in almost everyday to at least check on my cell cultures so they don't die. Dead cells = one pissed off grad student.

Despite the heat I have been getting mighty crafty lately. I think I'm trying to get it all out of my system before it gets crazy busy in a few weeks. I made this sweet little wall decor/craft supply holder deal a couple weeks ago.

It's not 100% done, but I like it!

And that's all folks. I'm hot. I've been working. And having some fun here and there. Heimy is still a lazy crabby cat. So basically life is normal. Of course, my co-workers and I? Not so much.

quite frankly, it might be more enjoyable to google maru, the box loving cat.

The following is a collection of random posts that were started and never finished. I'd say it's my gift to you but it'd be a pretty shitty gift. ....


..............

It’s official.

I’m either developing some weird case of narcolepsy or this air mattress is going to be the death of me. It seems like no matter how much sleep I get, I’m still tired. I passed out on my living room floor after working at the lab yesterday for almost 2 hours and really could have just gone to bed except it was still exceptionally light outside considering it wasn’t even 6:00 pm.

So unless there is some weird atmospheric pollutant making me tired all the time, I’m blaming the air mattress and the apparent lack of quality sleep.

But if you see me passed out in my soup, help a sister out.

...........

Texans are like Californians, except with bigger guns and slowly spoken insults. 

...........

I have the best job ever now. Of course I may not be saying that come October when I'm eyeball deep in cell cultures, paper grading and classes, but right now? It's pretty much the shit. 

In the past 2 weeks I have had the weirdest and most hilarious conversations of my entire life with my lab mates. No topic is left untouched. None.

Now, if I can keep the sticky fingers from stealing my pens and supplies, life would be swell.

And if I didn't sweat every time I even thought about going outside, life would be splendid.

...........

What do you get when you put 1 PhD student, 2 masters students, 1 undergraduate and 1 high school student in a car with 4 snow cones and a crazy driver?

1 undergrad and 3 grad students covered in sticky spray.

...........

I think I'm living on the surface of the sun. Literally.

If it gets any hotter I won't have to worry about trying to lose weight, I'll just sweat it off.

But I'll need to invest in a year's supply of underwear.

Ew.

............

There you go, I told you. Shittacular gift.

You're welcome.

reason #23987 why moving is worse than riping fingernails off one by one with rusty pliers.

I have three words for you that should strike fear into your heart:

Coin. Operated. Laundry.

Who ever created the idea of having to have a billion and a half quarters just to wash your chonies and shirts and jeans because it's really freaking hot and humid where you (now) live so you have to change your clothes a lot because yes, you are the sweaty kid, should be tarred and feathered.

My stuff is still commuting towards me, which means I don't have my washer and dryer yet, and thus, had to conquer the coin operated laundry.  This adventure began by first having to go in search of where the nearest laundry room was. LOCATED! success. Then the dread hits....quarters. Need quarters. Need cash to get quarters. It's Sunday, so no just going into the bank.

Piling into the hot car, I locate an ATM and pull out some moola, having to pay of course because I haven't transferred all of my funds from my local bank and I didn't want to spend the time looking for one that wouldn't charge me. Flip a U, find a place to get a soda to make small bills. Success! Flip another U and head to the coin operated car wash to, you got it, use their change machine! and vacuum up the cat food and kitty litter that was left in my car from the trip East.

Finally loaded down with quarters I lugged my laundry down stairs and towards the laundry room. Here is where I feel I should mention that the temperature is over 100 and the humidity today? 58%. That laundry room was a hot sweaty beast.

All of that just for some clean underwear. 

I'd say I need a beer, but I'd have to drive out of county to get one and it's just too bloody hot.

Take that Coin Operated Laundry, I defeated yo ass!

you should really just save your time and google cute pictures of marmots.

I want furniture.

I know I keep saying that, but I mean it. My apartment is so sad and lonely. And it echoes.

But it's air conditioned at least. This humidity may or may not be the death of me. At least where I'm spending most of my time these days is nice and cool. Thank you lab!

I have no news.

Other than no matter what state you live in there are always twatwaffles on the road (yes, I'm talking about you mr. giant ford, I'm oh-so-sorry I haven't been here even a week yet and I get a little confused on the roads occasionally about where to turn).

bees, out.

academia or bust.

Where to start, where to start. Marathon cleaning session before I moved out of H-town? Check. (Thank GOD for my mom and sister, because I could not have done it without them!)

Cramming as much crap into my car as physically and metaphysically possible? Check. So much so that my car was damn near touching the pavement? Check.

Powered through a 1600 mile trek in about 25-8 hours? Check and check.

The amazing part of this little story is that my cat? turned out to be a rockstar. He cried a bit in the beginning but we settled into a good pace and he settled down. No explosive shits. No ear splitting cries for hours on end. I was amazed. On top of that he actually let me put a collar on him and since we've been in the new place he's been this little center of calm. I think he'll do even better once my stuff arrives.

Speaking of...I want my shit. Like yesterday. Indoor camping was kind of fun at first but now I'm tired of every meal, ever netflix thing, every damn thing taking place on the ground. And of sleeping on an air mattress.  Don't get me wrong, the aerobed is super comfy, but I want my own bed. Right meow. They better show up with my stuff soon or I might be searching the side of the road for some new-to-me items.

Since I rolled into town I've been spending time running around trying to figure things out, buy things, and sleeping to make up for driving for like two days straight. But today was my first day going to campus and meeting the people I'm going to be spending the next two years with, which was pretty flippin sweet. Here's a couple shots I took walking around today. If it hadn't been hot as balls, I'd have explored more, but I was hot, sweaty and hungry, so you get two.

Peace y'all.

Yeah. That's a lake in the middle of campus. Mind blown.

moving saga part 4697: the day my patience and sleep ran off to elope and died in a plane crash on the way there.

Yesterday was the Monday from hell. It crawled up from the bowels of the netherworld and slapped my ass with a big fat "have a nice day sucka".

Marathon packing this weekend I had almost everything ready to go for the movers, but of course to get to that point I went to bed in the wee hours on Monday morning, woke up 4 hours later from shitty sleep, went to work at the butt crack of dawn, ran home to meet my movers when they were supposed to be there.....and waited.....and waited some more.

I waited so long my oven looks like it would on the Sears showroom floor. I even swept underneath it. And then moved on to the freezer. Two hours and change later, they showed up. They worked steadily but it still took them two hours. And I used more space than estimated = more bloody money. Just great. By 1:30 I was hot, hungry, and testy. What will fix that? A quick lunch with the sister, brother and nephew. I get out of my car and reach for my wallet while simultaneously dropping my fucking iphone.

Empty purse. Phone on the pavement.

Wallet on counter from paying second payment of move.

Thankfully, my sister saved the day, I hoovered lunch, ran back to work, worked until close, got my hair cut and then had a wonderful dinner and chat with a friend and mentor. After which I had to return to my empty apartment with my freaked out cat to "blow up" my accommodations for the next few nights and make my bed. Do you know how weird it is to be sleeping in an empty 1400 square foot apartment? It's echoy canyon weird.


I'm so nice and shiny now assholes.

And it's all become real that in 2 days I am headed East. Now that my stuff is gone it definitely means no turning back and it's exciting and strange and a little nerve destroying. I'm anxious to begin and sad to leave.

Hello bittersweet.

i need wine and a xanax immediately.

I have not heard from my moving company.

.

.

They're supposed to be picking my shit up tomorrow! Needless to say I'm freaking out a little bit. I called, they're supposed to call me back soon but wtf?! This is not what I'm paying more money than my liver is worth on the black market for! I was paying for peace of mind.

So while I finish up this last little bit of packing I need copious amounts of wine to deal with the nervousness in my (currently over sized) gut.

Moving blows giant chunks.

Also? My internet goes dark tomorrow. So if you don't hear from me in a couple weeks there are several possibilities:

1. I murdered someone from this damn moving company and am now waiting to serve 50 to life.

2. I've been crushed under my boxes of crap.

3. I gave up on the drive to Texas and ran away to Canada to drive the ice roads.

4. I internally combusted from all the stress and am in bits on the floor.

5. I drank myself into a coma and am in the fetal position in the corner.

I'm going to vote it's most likely going to be number 5.

oh hump day, you never cease to surprise me.

Yet again.....I was that guy today.

The guy that you invite to a party and they lite their hair on fire.

No really, I lit my hair on fire. Note to self: never put a candle close to your ear to hear the fancy wood wick crackle sounds, especially if you have curly, poofy hair.

Never fear, I still have plenty of hair left.

(p.s. yes, I totally stole this graphic from the internet, but whatevs, it works)

dun dun duunnnn.

The countdowns have begun. As of today I have 1 week! of work left. Hooray! It's going to suck not getting a decent regular paycheck, but it's also going to be amazing. I'm glad to see that chapter of my life coming to an end. I've learned a lot but I'm SO ready to move on. Bring on unemployment!!

Ok, so I'm not really going to be unemployed. But I'd like to entertain the thought that I'm going to lounge around in my jammies (not my undies, or naked, no naked, naked is just...ew.) and each popcorn and watch movies or read all day. That'd be sweat. Instead the few days here I'll be furiously cleaning my empty apartment, I won't have any cable or internet to distract me, and I'll be hanging out with friends and the fam bam. Then, as of the 30th I'll be driving East with a neurotic old cat in the car who will probably get a serious case of explosive shits which will be SUPER fun to clean out of his kennel because I do not want to spend 24 hours in a car that smells like cat turds.

So 1 week of work (fuck yeah y'all!) and like 9 days until I head east. What the fuck! How did this happen so quickly? I felt like I had ages to get stuff done and whammy, it's here now. My movers are coming Monday so I have to finish my packing spree this weekend and start living camping style. I spent some grad gift certificates on an AeroBed so I actually have a place to sleep until my furniture catches up to me.

I'm exhausted already just thinking about it. And excited. But really exhausted.

This Californian is getting closer to being ready for Texas, but I don't think Texas is going to be ready for this California girl! It's going to be hot as balls when I get there though, so that'll be fun for this sweaty kid.

yesterday, i was that kid.

Seven years. That's how long I've worked in this bloody office. Seven years, 5 days a week, 260 work days a year, that's about 1820 days of sitting my cushy ass in a rolly chair multiple times a day.

Successfully.

And then, when I have a mere 9 days left on my time card here, THAT is when I miss the fucking rolling chair and fall flat on my ass knocking a pile of nice, neat, alphabitized and collated papers right on top of my retarded noggin and whacking the back of my head on said runaway rolly chair.  Fuck you chair. That was just mean. I know I crush you daily with my body, but what about all those times we've spun in lazy circles together while I think until I feel like I'm going to puke? Or the moments when we're on the phone and a rock/bounce you? Now, after a almost 2000 days together you do me dirty? Bastard.

To answer your question, yes I'm fine. Oh wait, that wasn't your question was it? That was just the sound of your gasping for breath while you laugh at my desmise. It's cool. You'll get yours.

I was also that kid who you saw slamming on their breaks, veering to the side of the road and jumping out of her car with the mildly screaming heebie jeebies yesterday because a big ol' creepy clear/white spider went scampering across my windshield ON THE INSIDE. *gag* Not cool car. We're supposed to keep the buggers out side or smashed on the grill.

Needless to say, yesterday was more than eventful. And a strange follow up to my super dee duper awesome birthday on Tuesday. It was grand. So grand I didn't go to bed until after midnight and had to be at work at 6:30. Roooooouuugh morning to say the least. And then I get attacked my office furniture AND arachnids?

Thank god there is wine in my fridge.

please stop questioning my gender because it might rub off.

As if getting a plane ticket that had me listed as a Mr. B, 2 years ago wasn't bad enough, I have to put up with constant scammer emails from a one Margot Taylor trying to get me to inhance my male performance. Really? Just no.

*ahem*

Dear Margot Taylor,

Stop sending me Viagra emails. No, I do not need to increase my penial stamina nor do I care if I can buy in BULK! Cheap! From you. I am the proud owner of a vagina. Please hock your little blue pill somewhere else.

Regards,
me.

I'm adding Ms. Taylor to the list of people that deserve a punch to the twat.

bloody brilliant and funny bitches all in one box of awesome.

If you've ever encountered someone who is a moron?

You should read this.

If you've ever wanted to nut punch someone for being a douche-kaaaabob?

You should read this.

And if you think you're the person that either of these questions pertain to?

You need to commit this shit to memory.

I take absolutely no credit for this awesomeness, but am giving a huge shout out to Noa, because this is the most brilliant and amazing thing I have read in months. She deserves a damn Pulitzer.

In other news, I'd like to just say that I'm so over selling my worldly possessions on craigslist. People are generally so dense they don't understand that regular Joe's work from 8-5 (what? crazy.) So no you cannot come by my house at 11 in the morning. And also? It is not ok to call or text me at mothereffing 11 at night or 6 in the morning. I don't care if I'm awake, it's just plain rude you asshat. And yet I must persevere because I need to get rid of this stuff and I need the money for the move (damn expensive cross country moves).

But it is not my fault if I have to have a few beers before contacting these people back and my texts make no sense.

it might be time to slap out of it.

I feel like I've been eaten by marmots, spit out, trampled by a polar bear, rolled in saw dust and forced to walk from the Arctic to California.

I am so exhausted.

Between the packing, the visiting, the cleaning and purging, the attempts to run at the gym, the yard sale prepping (which don't even get me started on because motherfucker it rained on the ONE day we advertised for our sale and then the next?? sunny as can be....really? no, really?), the baby loves visits, wrapping up work stuff, and the trying to find someone to move my shit for less than what I could sell my kidney for on the black market...there has been little time to sleep.

The good news is that I've settled on a mover. I still have to mortgage my life most likely, but I can deal.

The other pile of good news is that I got rid of a ton of stuff this weekend and have just a few more items to sell and I'll be in good shape.

The last bit of good news is that it's been determined I CAN dismantle my most favoritest piece of furniture, my project table, which means I can take it with me. Sorry movers, eat your Wheaties when you cart my shit in and out and up those stairs because that bitch is beast.

My official acceptance letter came in the mail, which was pretty exciting. And I finally received my financial aid package (oh hello student loans, we meet again) so I can officially pay for this little adventure. Things are starting to fall into place.

If only it wasn't at the expense of my sleep. But all I have to do is hang out with this guy and it's all good.

But you know what's NOT ok? Setting your DVR to record the 2 hour season premier of Ice Road Truckers (stop judging me you asshole), popping your popcorn, finding a cozy spot in bed and tuning in to your recording only to discover that your asshat of a DVR wigged out and only recorded 29 minutes of it! So you have to find when it replays and record it....again....and wait another day to watch it. I am not a patient person. Oh DVR, why are you doing me dirty? Is it because I'm mailing you back to the mothership in a couple weeks? Please don't hate me.

One guess what I'll be doing tonight.

there's a will, there's a way, and then sometimes there's just a lot of people who make you smile.

I know everyone probably says this or thinks it, but in this case it's true. I have the best friends and family on the planet. For realsies.

After many long, sometimes painful, years, I finally gradated from a university in December. Yet, despite my diploma hanging on the wall it didn't feel "real" until yesterday when I actually heard my name called and walked across the stage to shake my dean's hand. Weird, right? And I have proof! (Well, at least that I purchased a cap and gown, eh?)

Best part of the whole actual graduation day? My biggest fan came :)

And then today we had a party and my kick ass friends and family showed up en mass to not only wish me well but spend their entire Saturday afternoon with me. For those of you who read this I am incredibly grateful and only sorry that I couldn't spend quality one on one time with all of you today. I am honestly surrounded by some of the most caring and generous people in the world and there are not enough words to describe how awesome y'all are.

And after two days of excitement I am completely exhausted. It's time for some wine and some z's, and possibly some hair ball medicine because my cat is shedding so bad that I know there is no way to avoid the thought that I am ingesting more than I'd like to imagine. Barf.

let's just call us square.

Things have been crazy busy. So here's a summary in lists and photos.

1. This little guy is where I've been spending the majority of my time. I mean, how could I resist!

2. Looking for an apartment 4 states away is freaking HARD. But I did it. Is it as cheap as I would have liked? No. But do I feel like it'll be safe? Yes. 'Nuff said.

3. Graduation creeped up on me and is this Friday. Crazy. Then a party on Saturday. And before I know it, June will be here and I'll have a month to move. Yowza.

4. Things at work are insane but do you know how you can tell you've arrived and will be missed when you're relied upon for the important task of making valuable signage.

5. My house, closets, dresser, and all cabinets have exploded into a giant mass that I'm trying to sort between keep and sale. Oi.

because really, who would you be without them?

A happy mommy day to all the moms out there, including my own awesome mamacita!

And an even bigger happy M-day to my sissy pants, who became a mommy on Monday and gave me a beautiful, perfect, amazing nephew all at the same time!

Photos of his adorableness will come soon, but with his birth and my trying to find a place to live when I move, things are a bit nuts.

So enjoy today, rest and give love to yo' motha!

it's no 31 flavors, but it's a scoop none the less.

Here's the dealio. Things have kind of spun drastically in one direction and then in another in the past week and a half or so and I'm not quite sure all of my organs, limbs, etc. have caught up to today.

If you'd have approached me a week or so ago, I might not have been the most jolly of characters.  After some bloody crushing rejections in the grad school arena and realizations of what was going to be in store, needless to say I was not in the most pleasant of moods. And then? I sent some emails. I got an email back. I had a phone interview. I sent off an application. I got an offer to be a graduate research assistant. I get to pay instate tuition. I get a small living stipend.

I'm moving.

To Texas.

Texas, y'all. Like woah. All in a week. It's funny how things can change in a week. Now I'm trying to wrap my mind around the fact that not only did I actually manage to get into a grad program but that I'm going to get paid to do my research. And I'm moving. Possibly sooner rather than later. I have the opportunity to get a jump (a paid jump) on my research if I want to head east this summer.

Now, if only Uhaul's or any moving truck really didn't cost over $1,000 to use for out of state, one way travel, things would be looking much better. But for now, I'll just focus on the positive.

Don't mess with Texas.

it's the little things.

Thank you Deadliest Catch for having a 2 hour season premier last night. Though 2 hours is not nearly enough.

You heal a small part of my battered soul.

Also? My nephew needs to hurry up and arrive already. His baby shower is over (thank heavens) and it's time for him to be here.

i have nothing to say except

the world can go fuck itself right now.

these are not the kind of big balls anyone wants to deal with.

Both of my tonsils feel about this big right now.

Meds. Bed. Sleep.

p.s. Sissy Pants' baby shower....that I planned....is saturday. Sickness is not an option.

merriam webster can't get everything right i guess.

It may be strange to say that a fortune cookie prompted me to write this little schpeal today, but it's true. I'll tell you that fortune later.

There's a word that sometimes lays heavy on everyone, and it's one that has been plaguing me lately.

Expectations. 

People's expectations for you, your expectations for yourself, and round and round.  They can be a glorious thing that lifts you to the highest heights of your dreams and they can be a dark cloud that weigh down your soul.  Lately, I have been dealing with the later of these definitions.  Not rationally of course.

It's true, I have high expectations for myself.  But it's also true that I feel like other people in my life have even higher expectations for me based on previous "performance". Whether or not that's true or just something I feel, it's a hard thing to deal with and leads to another ugly word. Regret.  I've been feeling a lot of that lately.  Regret for some of the decisions I made 7 years ago. Regret for some of the decisions I've made in even more recent years.  These two go hand in hand like a dirty, filthy virus and I'm starting to feel like patient X.

But you know what's even worse than these two words slowly chipping away at your sanity? Is that they overshadow all the good things.  They block out the sunshine on a breezy warm day.  They obscure the joy of the impending birth of a baby.  They weed into inter-personal relations and plant seeds of dis-rest. They make you forget who you are and why you do everything that you do to keep putting one foot in front of the other each and every day.

So today, I opened an ordinary fortune cookie not knowing how wise of a cookie I held in my hands.  It told me that "nothing  can keep you from reaching your goals..Do it!"

It might seem strange to you that 10 words printed on a tiny piece of paper and stuffed inside a cookie could spark me to think so "deeply", but it's true, they did.  A few hours after reading that little piece of paper, I sat in a room in a doctor's office and heard the tiny heartbeat belonging to my nephew still in my sisters belly. I marveled at that little sound knowing that in just a few weeks time I'll get to meet the owner of that steady heart beat.  I walked in the sun to a friend's house, listening to the sounds of Spring. I hung out with friends and laughed. I realized that despite expectations and regrets, love and persistence still exist right along side them in the dictionary.

I may not be where I want, and things might not be going my way, my loans might be calling soon and I might feel stuck in a place I'm not going to get out of but the truth of the matter is, that if you refuse to give in and push yourself farther than you think you can, mountains can move. I'm not there yet, I'm not even close to the summit of the hill I put my ass on with past decisions, but hell if I'm giving up now.

Now, someone bring me some aspirin and take out stock in diet pepsi, because this is going to be one fucking long journey.

an open letter to grocery chains.

Dear Savemarts and other potential grocery chains,

It would be incredibly helpful if you put the fucking BREAD crumbs in the BREAD aisle and not in some random ass aisle that no one would ever think of to look down. And thus, they wouldn't spend 5 minutes pacing up and down the bread aisle, calling their mother to make sure that yes, in fact you can buy bread crumbs, and then feel slightly moronic when having to ask someone where they are kept.

Hugs,
bees

In other news, my new recipe tonight that did not call for those breadcrumbs, turned out quite spectacularly. I attempted a thai dish that I absolutely love, called Pad See Ew. Now, mine didn't look quite that good, but it actually tasted pretty swell. I couldn't find the right noodles and there was actually a moment with the replacement noodles that was a little harry, and then I could only find 1 of the soy sauces needed and had to substitute with a different sauce, but seriously, it was delish! But I didn't take a picture because it definitely didn't look super yummy.

While at the grocery store, after wandering around FOREVER looking for those damn bread crumbs, I passed by what is probably a gallon sized bottle of my favorite wine. I may have purchased it in defiance against those bastard crumbs, and might already be one moderately (read incredibly) large glass in and contemplating another one.

And still no word on those last 2 schools.

I might need to go buy a few more gallons of this wine.

an ode to lists.

A random series of events and thoughts that have occurred recently in my life in no apparent order.

1. I never ever want to paint a wine glass again after painting 49 of them.

2. The Magnificient Mel came to visit from London...and I miss her already.

3. My apartment is a giant crap hole since Mel left and I'll I've been doing is crafting for the baby shower.

4. My nephew is scheduled to arrive in 4 weeks!

5. Tissue pom-poms are the crafter's crack.

6. I spent even more money on graduation buy purchasing my cap, gown, announcements, etc. Highway robbery.

7. I've learned I basically suck at life.

8. Jury duty has to be one of the most boring things I've ever encountered in my life, particularly when you get picked for the panel and spend 2 days listening to 4 people say the same thing over and over again.

9. I loathe meetings of any kind (work wise, meetings for coffee dates = totally acceptable).

10. A bird massacre occured in my living room (guess who the culprit of THAT one was).

11. I'm under attack from mosquito eaters in my house (yes, I mean THESE things!).

12. It's been hot the past couple of days and I find myself wanting to sit in a pool with a large adult beverage and forget my troubles for awhile.

13. I think the people who work at Michael's are beginning to know me by name.

14. Frabjous Friday is my absolute favorite thing.

the end.

the sun might have been out, but the dark clouds still found me.

Some days, life is not your friend.

Some days you get served a giant double whammy of kick-me-in-the-crotch shittacularness from the universe.

It's safe to say that this kid has more than just your average case of the Mondays.

I had jury duty today and for the first time ever got picked for the jury. Awesome...or not. I curse Law and Order for making trials and legal proceedings seem riveting and exciting because I assure you, they are not. At least in my case.

And while on my lunch break from the lovely court activities I got wind of another grad school decision. There's one more big fat no in the books. Fanfuckingtastic. It's definitely an ego, morale, spirit, whatever you want to call it, blow. In fact it really fucking sucks. It's getting harder and harder to say that things will work out, or to keep trying to think positively.

I'm just getting tired. Tired of everything being so damn difficult all the time. Once, just once, it'd be nice to have something go my way without having to fight tooth and nail for it. That shit gets old. Fast. And as the rejections pour in, it makes me feel more and more insecure about where to go from here. It's like being on a dingy in the ocean without a sail and only one paddle. I'm getting nowhere fast and when I do move it's just in a circle. I realize there are other methods of getting where I eventually want to be, but I've already taken the scenic route to get where I am now and I'm tired of wasting time doing things that have absolutely no appeal to me.

So for now I wait. I wait for 2 more notifications. I wait to see if I'm going to get the jump on my career that I'm hoping for, or yet again have to scramble and figure out where to go from here. It's definitely a lonely and frightening place to be.

it's come to light that i am nothing like a fine wine.

There is no way I've gotten better with age.  I think I'm more like the $2 boxed wine that has been long forgotten in the back of the fridge for about 6 months and once pulled out it's discovered that the liquid has taken on a congealed gelatinous form and smells like the bum you see sitting near the subway.

Being only in my mid-twenties, one would think that I would be full of energy, bounce back from everything and be rip-roaring-and-ready to go at any time. Well my friends, this is incredibly not the case. I'm pretty sure my foot still hurts from falling a week ago (yes, I know, you're terribly surprised that I fell). I'm also sure that on nights when I consume far too much alcohol, I can no longer bounce back the next day by popping some Ibuprofen with a gallon of water followed by a greasy meal and sugary soda. Instead, the Ibuprofen and water and accompanied by saltines and 2 days on the couch nursing my poor injured liver and head.

Gone are the days of all nighter's and subsisting on a diet consisting of Mountain Dew, Cool Ranch Doritos and some form of sour gummy anything. Now I look at a diet soda for a a millisecond and BAM, another few pounds find their way to my gut and when I make it to bed late, only allowing for a few hours of rest, not only do I have to consume several forms of caffeine throughout the day but you better damn well believe there is no way I am 1. going to the gym 2. cleaning house 3. running any errands or 4. doing anything other than going straight home after work, putting on my pajama's, taking off my bra and laying my ass on the couch.

How did this happen and for the love of all that is good and holy how do I make it STOP!? Those of you with spouses and kids, man, I can't even imagine.

So, it's a safe bet to assume that while I had a fantastic time last night hanging out and catching up with the wonderful Lindsey and Brian, and marveling at how big their daughter has gotten, I didn't crawl into bed until after 11, which meant my 5 am wake-up gym call? was replaced by a big fat snooze til 6:30 and while I should have gone to the gym, my aching body is still recovering from it's tumble and my liver from the Lambic I drank on Tuesday.

If you need me later, you'll most likely find me passed out on my couch in my PJ's, preparing for the visit of the ever fab Mel from London! But be forewarned if you pop in unawares, I make no promises to be wearing real pants.

None at all.

at least i'm owning up to it, eh?

I told lies.

I fully intended to prepare this post complete with some lovely photos and splashes of vacation awesomeness and yet.... it didn't happen.

Instead I went grocery shopping, did my laundry, and only got as far as uploading the photos from my camera before I passed out last night. I did manage to get up and go to the gym this morning but after a 2 weeks hiatus I looked much more like a lumbering hippo on the treadmill than the half-wit runner that I am and didn't last quite as long as I could have before returning home to get ready for work.

So, yet again I'm kind of a grumpy-gus today, even after a cup of coffee this morning, but maybe the day will turn around?

In hope's for that I bring you this image, supplied by the ever amazing Nads back in 2003 I think, and to this day it makes me laugh until I wee a little tiny bit.

rawr.

Aren't you supposed to return from vacation refreshed! rejuvenated! and ready to go?

Apparently my body and mind missed that memo because I am in a francrappingtactalistically shitty mood.

I am exhausted since my flight got in late, and then when I got home I had to pay a week's worth of missed attention to the little furry prince, who then deemed it necessary when I had finally unpacked and was able to curl up in bed around midnight or later, to wake me up about every hour or so. Just to make sure I knew he knew I was there I guess.

Then there's the fact that right before vacation I received my first grad school rejection email. And then mid-way through vacation got my second one, so things are NOT looking good. Three more to go and I feel like vomiting. Profusely.

So of course flying home meant a return to all these lovely bits of reality and lip chewing circumstances when I'd rather be back on vacation watching cougar town and drinking wine.

Tomorrow I shall attempt to perk up and post some vacation photos. For now, it's grocery store and laundry time. Balls.

there always has to be a party pooper in the bunch, at least today it's not me.

The time has come to take to the skies.  And while Heimy is non-too-pleased to see the pink and white polka-dots again, I'm of a completely different opinion.  I'll check y'all later because Butch and I? We're SO ready to head to Seattle already.

Watch out PNW, here we come.

frabjous friday:: pre-departure style.

I'll admit, I've been kind of a gym failure this week.  Only 3 days and one of those was not today.

I blame my inability to go to bed early enough so that I can rise before the damn roosters all in the name of sweating it out on the treadmill.

This aside, tomorrow? I leave for Seattle bitches. Hell freaking yes! I am ready for a vacay and some quality friend time.

So I might not have been a gym success, or have gotten the right amount of sleep for the week, and I might not yet be packed for my trip but it's bloody Frabjous Friday, a flight is on the horrizon and I've got caffeine in hand.

Grab your FF treat, slap a smile on that sour puss and charge into the 3-day weekend Spartacus style (nudity optional...though highly discouraged by management....and by management I mean me).

this may not be sparta, but who gives a shit.

I recently started watching a new television series on Netflix because I'm A. Completely and totally addicted to instant watch, particularly from my shiny new phone and B. I love being able to watch a show back to back without waiting because C. I am incredibly impatient. But I digress..

So this show, it's called Spartacus (and yes everytime I say it or think it I have to say it like SPPPAAARRRTAAACUUUUSSSS! complete with a fist pump and a grunt).  It's a Starz series, and while Showtime programs are known to be a tad bit scandalous (hi, Dexter and Weeds, I love you.), I didn't realize Starz had moved into the soft core porn genre as well. Ok, so it's not all boobs and butts but I was a little taken aback by the amount of sexy time in the first episode.

That being said, holy HELL are there some oh-my-god-I-didn't-know-the-human-body-could-look-so-ripped deliciousness going on in this series. And they walk around in what looks like diapers most of the time, or loin cloths, or a mixture perhaps.

I mean, just look at Spartacus!

Yeah, like I'm not going to watch this show.

However, watching it on my phone while running on the treadmill at the gym may not be so wise, particularly when all the sexy time starts taking place. Oops.

it's like giving a kid a popsicle and then telling them to stand in the sun for 10 minutes before eating it.

I finally did it.

I finally upgraded my phone. Yes, I have been rocking my first generation 2G iphone since they were first put on the market. No, I could not recieve picture messages. Or record videos. Or face time chat. Or play Words With Friends. Yes, sometimes the phone moved at a snail's pace. But, it was my buddy for many long years and I almost felt guilty about trading it in for a newer model, like I was cheating on it or putting it down like an old dog.

Well, I felt like that for a few minutes until the cold metal of that new phone touched my palm and I realized I could do all these things and MORE! Like instant watch my netflix on my phone. Best. Thing. Ever. Almost as amazing (because I'm not sure anything will top the instant watch thing), is that I can actually hear my phone now. The sound is mind blowing.

Not so amazing?

Getting home from the store and plugging my phone into my computer to upload my ringtones only to find out that I need the new version of itunes. And then when trying to download the new version of itunes finding out I can't. Because now my computer software is too old.

sonofabitch.

frabjous friday, a movement even a misanthrope can bang on about.

It's Frabjous Friday. Do you know what that means? Probably not, but let me share my friends.

I? am a starbucks addict. I lurve me a carmel frappaccino light or a black tea lemonade. Nom nom nom. However, 1. they're pricey and 2. they're kiiiiinda fatty. Which is why I have limited myself to one frap a week (I will still have the occasional BTL on the weekends if I go on a coffee date with a friend, I mean, it's totally a legit reason).

And that frap....comes on Fridays.

Another thing is that Alice and Wonderland is my all time flavor-ite Disney movie. Yes, it's weird. Yes, it's kind of like being on an acid trip. And it's awesome. Remember Frabjous day from the latest movie? (And the book). No? Well google that shit. Go ahead, I'll wait.... find it? So it's the day that Alice slays the Jabberwocky and supposedly is a combintation of fabulous and joyous.

Frappacino...Frabjous....Friday.....see how they all go together?

It's Frabjous Friday bitches. :)

My buns and thighs might hurt like a sonofabitch from my workouts this week and it might feel like someone jabbing a knife into my muscles when I move. My house might not be clean. Other things might be weighing down on me. But it's sunny and it's frabjous friday and that's something we can all smile about. 

So grab whatever makes you happen and let's all Futterwacken, because the weekend is neigh!

it's official.

I have done graduated.

With honors.

Fuck yeah y'all. Fuck yeah.

if you're short, have a beard and carry an axe, maybe you can pull it off, but even then i doubt it.

Life without music would be sad. I love music. I listen to it constantly at home, at work, in my car, at the gym, you name it. However, music and whistling? These are two distinctly different things. While I love to hear most any kind of music throughout the day, I do not, I repeat, do NOT wish to hear you whistling some shittacular little tune. You might think you sound like the next Andrea Bocelli of the whistling world, really, in all honesty, you sound like a giant wanktard. If it's 7:30 in the morning, no one wants to hear you belt out your own little tune. They don't want to hear it at 8:00, or 10:00 or even 2:00.

Keep it inside.

You have a running tune inside your head? Grrrreeeaaaaat. Keep it there. Tap it out with the toe of your shoe, even hum a bar or two (but don't get crazy).

And please, for the love of all that is holy and kind, leave the whistling to these guys.

this is all completely random and pointless but it's monday and i'm tired.

Feast your eyes on the cutest fucking thing I think I've ever made.

Yes, yes that IS a penguin hat for my future little nephew. Sadly, the pattern was for a small but it still looks like it won't fit him until he's about 24 months so now I'll need to modify it to make a smaller one but holy freaking COW is it adorable.

In progress is the matching stuffed penguin. I fear that I may die from a cuteness overload.

In other news, this past weekend was my sissy pants' birthday and to celebrate we went out to lunch and got pedicures. I am loathe to want anyone near my feet, so I rarely get pedicures and instead do my own toe maintenance, but for her I went. So Happy Birthday Sissy Pants!

I also went to the coast for the day and it was glorious. Sun. Warmth. Laughter. Chowder. The only thing missing was finding the motherload of old buttons. I will find them though, dag nab you buttons I will FIND you.

And to wrap this up all I have to say is GO PACKERS!!!!!!!

if i could punch it in the nads i would

I'm trying a new phenomenon known as "getting your ass up early and to the gym". This is NO easy task mind you. I? am not a morning person. I much prefer to turn all electronic devices to mortuary silence and sleep in my comfortable bed until I finally decide to stumble like a cave woman to the shower to start my day.

So when my alarm now sounds at 5:10 in the morning I have to resist the urge to chuck it across the room and watch it splatter...mostly because I'd have just busted my iphone and then I would have to weep. I'm on a hot streak though! I've managed 3 days in a row. Yup, 3. Not 33, or 333, just 3. But hey, it's a start. So far I'm liking this concept, so long as I can stick to the routine.

In other news there is a new trend rocking my generation that needs. to. die. And this is the trend of using "epic" to describe every stinking emotion, action, ordeal, discovery, exclamation, proclamation, disgruntlement and disappoinment.

It should not be used to describe a new Mikey Mouse Wii game.

Nor should it be used so haphazardly in car and travel commericals.

I don't want to hear it on the radio.

Or see it on your facebook.

I refer you to this little blog/web page posting on the topic, as this person does a far superior job of shedding light on the declining literary skills of my generation "Not Everything is Epic, Shitheads".

Of course, the one liberal use of epic that is reasonable if used in moderation is the epic fail. However, I'll let these guys be the judges of that concept.

it's kind of like one of those things where you find the differences in the pictures

It's a lovely day outside, you jump in your car to head to town, anxiously awaiting the purr of the engine. You plunge the key into the ignition and delight as the engine roars to life. You check your dashboard make sure you've got fuel and everything is in working in proper order. You smile as your eyes flicker over the dials that look like this:

Lovely! Gas, good to go. RPM's, looking good fella's! Time to hit the road.

What you don't want to see is this:

Gas, we're still pretty good.  RPM's....RPM's? Where are you, you little bastards?!

This is what your gauge is like when it's a dick and can't make up it's mind whether it wants to work consistently or not work at all.  And there is no way in hell I'm paying over 300 bones to fix it when it's not quite broken yet.

I've got my eye on you RPM's, time to shape up!

and we're off like a turd of hurtles.

Hey y'all! Remember that time that I said I was getting a shop up and running on my blog? And the time before that? Well guess what? It's actually done.

That's right, it's done.

Now it's still a brand new baby fresh from the womb, so if there are any glitches or problems, just hang in there with me and if you see something feel free to shoot me an email.  For now, the only thing available are headwraps (which are awesome and I rock mine all the time), but stay tuned because I plan on adding more things!

Have a look. Tell your friend. Tell your neighbor. Share the love. I've got an education to fund! :D

Click on the shop button on the top right of the page or go ahead and click riiight HERE!

And thanks for stopping by!

not quite myself but slowly getting there.

I'm feeling a little off my axis today. It happens from time to time, particularly when the world begins to approach the month of February. But more than that, I read a blog that lead me to another blog that broke my heart and what I read was such a familiar story that it brought tears to my eyes. And then I was reading my book and realized that the same topic was right there in the pages that I was quickly devouring.

The loss of a loved one to suicide.

Some of you know, many of you do not, that my father comitted suicide when I was a kid. This is a fact. Not a ploy for pity or sympathy, but simply another part of me that has influenced the woman I am slowly trying to become. It is a hurdle you never wish to encounter, and when you're slammed into it you never think you'll get over, and once you're over you realize that while you're bruised and scraped and bleeding, that your wounds will heal but the scars will always remain.

I read the story of a young mother whose husband took his life, leaving behind her and her two children. I read about her pain and her anger and her worry and I realized that I was reading part of my own life story in someone else's words. And while it hurt and it brought up painful memories, it also gave me a sense of joy, that no matter what we encounter or go through, we are not alone. There are others out there that can benefit from what we have gone through, what we've learned. So bearing that in mind I left her a few words of encouragement and reassurance that she does not have to travel this dark path on her own, but rather with kindred spirits of a sort who will hold her as she falls even from a distance.

As I read my book, about the woman whose husband chose to end his life and leave behind her and their son, again my heart throbbed. Not because I was reacting solely to the life of this character, but because there it was again, the reality that pain exists even in fiction. I have yet to finish the book to see how she finds her way, but regardless of the ending, as I read each line I am with her on her journey.

It may all seem insignificant to you, but I assure you, as a kid you think no one understands. As a teenager you think people will judge. As a kid in your twenties you think that no one can relate to you so why bother bringing it up especially when the topic makes people uncomfortable. But for all my profusions of being an honest person to a fault, I find that in this area of my life I am dishonest. I'm not ashamed of my history, but grow weary of the reactions from people when they hear the words leave my lips.

Now I realize it doesn't matter, because it's my story. I might not have chosen it, or wanted it to be this way, but so be it. I, like the two women I have read about recently, was once faced with a topsy-turvy-twisty rollercoaster of a hiccup in my life journey, but I'm finally starting to feel like I've come out the other side.

So as I approach the 15th year since my dad ended his life I find that I am both humbled by how far I've come in those years and at the same time a bit lost at how much was missed by one of the people who should have so greatly wanted to stick around. I was valedicatorian of my high school. I put myself through college. I've graduated college. I'm becoming an aunt. I will be going to Grad school. I've become a fairly well adjusted and functioning adult. (scary.)

Do I understand why he wasn't here to see it all? No, and I never will. It does no good to linger on those thoughts and play through what-ifs. What's done is done and I could not have changed what happened. Do I miss him? Yes, and always will. Do I wonder if I would be a different person today with him here? Absolutely. Am I always a bit baffled when people say I do something just like he did or have a similar personality? You betcha, baffled, intrigued and saddened that I didn't get to discover this first hand. But what all of this boils down to is that there is a silent epidemic out there that no one wants to talk about because it makes THEM feel uncomfortable.

Sometimes life isn't comfortable.

Today I tell you that my life was touched by the suicide of another. A beautiful life was taken because he didn't know where else to turn. He was 39 years old. I tell you this so that if you're reading this and you feel like you have no where else to turn...you are wrong. I might not know you, but I will listen. Push away the shame at what you're feeling, the despair, because no matter what you might think in this moment, YOU are important. Your life means something to someone and without you they will never be the same. You are loved.

As for my dad, I can only hope he's proud of what he sees from above and knows that I love and miss him.

i think they're using a quite liberal interpretation of cuisine.

What is the deal with frozen meals? I get that they're quick and easy but damn they just do not look delicious at all. Why would I want to eat a crusty, shriveled up, freeze dried carrot when I could just pack a little snack-pack of fresh carrots in the morning? Or, I get if you want to have one every now and then for ease because hey, maybe you found one that IS just that delicious. But it kills me when I see people eat these little guys every. single. day. Every day. Now I'm a creature of habit, I tend to order the same thing at restaurants because I know I like it, often I pack the same thing for lunch everyday during a week because I'll make a huge vat of egg-salad. But I can't imagine choking down re-hydrated anything day after day after day after day.

Not to mention the smell these suckers emit when being heated up. It's like a stink bomb mixed with mustard gas and that shit lingers. It's enough to make my stomach clench and burn my nose hairs.

So please, consider those around you, in the same building or even the same zip code when you zap one of these babies back to life every fucking day, because you're making it hard for me to enjoy my sandwich and apple. And are they really all that lean? Or enough to feed a Hungry Man? I mean, they're tiny. Perhaps this is just another one the universe's mysteries that I will never understand.....and maybe don't want to.

just like dr. phil except with more hair and bigger boobs.

One extremely vital part of life is being a good listener I think. I try and be open and willing to listen to people who seek out my ear drums to discuss their problems or what have you, which in my opinion, I think I'm pretty successful.  Whether your issues are with your job, your spouse, your friend, your mom, your pet, that asshole who blocks your driveway with his garbage can or with that co-worker that you want to stab, I'm completely willing to listen, nod sympathetically and try to help you come to a solution for the situation, even if that solution is just to sit down with a bottle of rum and bad mouth the mother fucker until dawn.

However, there are lines people. LINES. Boundaries one might say. Whereas I might call up my best gal pal to discuss the in's and out's of bodily functions or weird medical issues, I would NOT delve into these topics with perfect strangers.

Perfect example. You walk into an office and the young(ish) receptionist proclaims that your twin toddler girls are extremely adorable and my, what a handful that must be! It is ok for you to say thank you and perhaps mention that they're nothing compared to their four older brothers. It is not ok that upon reply from the young(ish) receptionist, for you to then dive into how you and your husband had only wanted one more child, but had twins, so that when you had to go in for a minor procedures they tied your tubes but even THAT didn't work because you were then plagued with a tubular pregnancy at which point you had to have your ovary and such removed.
.
.
.
Do you hear that? THAT is the sound of an over share. Over. Share. This is information, that while I feel for you because that must have be mildly unpleasant, I do not ever need to know. I will never see you again (hopefully). You have also just greatly reduced my already slim desire to have children, logarithmically. So while my face might appear sincere and understanding, inside I'm screaming at you to shut your damn pie hole because I don't give a damn, just fill out your paper and sit down.

I'm not sure what it is about me that encourages people to share these things with me, but if you aren't willing to discuss the results of your morning bathroom visit with me, by all means prevent my inevitable psychotic breakdown by limiting the over shares.

in this case i'm really happy i'm just an idiot and not a dude

Here's the thing, I? am completely retarded.  No really, I am. People must think I'm either drunk or just off my meds the majority of the time. I have this innate ability to take a random situation and turn it into the most awkward encounter possible.So when I dial a number and punch in the extension that I just KNOW belongs to my dear friend and then when she answers and I begin the interaction as I normally would, like a complete jackass, and then quickly realize something is wrong and immediately the jack-ass dial turns to 'blubbering-confused-awkward-kid', I am again reminded of why I shouldn't be allowed to ever leave the house or interact with other homo sapiens.

Actual conversation between myself and the gal who is not my friend but was nice so maybe I should try calling her again to see if she wants to be friends.

Megan: Hello?

Me: That's not how you normally answer the phone.

Megan: Excuse me?

Me: Is this Megan?

Megan: Yes it is!

Me: Oh, ok. I was confused because you answered the phone strange. And... you sound weird.

Megan: I do?

Me: Yeah... um, (now fully realizing something is very wrong and starting to stammer and sweat like a baffoon) .... I think I have the wrong extension. I'm looking for Megan (insert last name here)

Not-My-Megan: Oh *laughs*, yup, you've got the wrong number. I was wondering why I didn't recognize your voice.

Me (now completely mortified): .....*crickets*... yeah, can you transfer me to her?

Not-My-Megan: I'll try, sorry if I hang up on you!

Me: *garbled words because things have gotten way awkward*

Almost as award as this picture.

Almost.

if you don't think this is funny, then you should be stabbed.

My friend Dee finds pearls of wisdom out on the Internet and I think that this one should be shared. Poor sad cloud. No more dancing and singing in his pee, ok folks? No happy swinging on light poles and tossing of the umbrellas, you're hurting his feelings!

That being said, I need me some sunshine soon or I'm going to go even more bat shit crazy. I love me some chilly weather, I just love it when it comes with a fat side of sun to go with it. I need to wear my cute pink sunglasses. And I mean neeeeeeeed! And when it's cold and dreary I have no motivation to go to the gym, which is what I need to be doing. And by need I mean neeeeeeeeeeed. Because guess who is signing up for the Disney Half Marathon again? Yup. It's become abundantly clear that I like to torture myself. But honestly, I had a great time last year and I'd like to improve my time. So I'm registering, but the only problem is that I might not be able to run it if I happen to have moved to school by then. The moving is not so much a bad thing because then it means I got in somewhere, and I can postpone until the next year for the run if I need to. But either way, I need to be getting in running shape, and any shape actually, because this circle I'm turning into is no bueno.

I'm feeling the need for change these days. I keep fighting the urge to change my house, my hair, my bedding, my tattoos, my life. Everything. I guess I'm getting restless since it's been over 6 months since I traveled anywhere and I must be getting that urge again. Guess it's time to scour the internets for some cheap air fare. Or sell a kidney. I did mortgage one already for graduate apps though. Hmm...I've got two ovaries...maybe I can sell one of those...

this is like waving a candy bar in front of a diabetic or a fifty in front of a hooker

Why must you tempt me SO!

Touche Virgin Atlantic, touche.

it's an epidemic that needs to stop before i slam my head in the copy machine.

Sometimes age and technology just do not mix. I mean, my grandma is super hip and emails and can use a computer with the best of them. However, there are many people, some not so old as you might think, that go beyond technophobia and simply enter the realm of just being a complete wanker with a lack of common sense. In an age where most machines DO everything for you, it can be frustrating at times when you have to take 20 minutes out of your day to explain how to attach a file to an email...even after you've explained this process several times over and the person has taken notes that include the quite specific instruction of "click on the paper clip that says Attach File underneath". These, my friends, are what I like to call CompuTARDS.

I am beginning to discover that the risk of being a CompuTARD runs deep in the veins of many people born prior to 1980. Granted, those of us born after that date have a bit of a head start since computers stopped taking up the space of an entire room during our childhood but I digress. That fact still remains that if you, or someone you love, suffers from CompuTARDation, the following chart might be of service to you. I find that it answer 99.9% of the "How did you do that?!" questions that I have ever been asked when called upon for assistance.

Image via http://sunandsmiles.com/

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go have this enlarged and framed. Do you think Staples does 'Bulletin Board' size?

bananas in pajamas

The happiest days on earth have to be Fridays that precede three day weekends. I'm thinking this should be recognized an international awesome event.

Despite this happy news, Friday was a dreary one - weather wise that is - which is really disconcerting considering I ACTUALLY got up early enough to wash and dry and do my hair before work.... only to open the front door and deflate (emotionally) as I came face to face with dense, wet, fog.  Within seconds of exiting my front door my naturally-curly-smothered-by-hot-appliances hair busted free of its silky straight chains and revolted into a mess akin to this:

Scary right? You're telling me. So all that work and it wound up in a freaking ponytail anyways. Awesome.

The rarely seen beast known as the three day weekend was spent doing a multitude of things but basically involved three basic components: eating, laughing, yarn.

Friday and Saturday were spent with the ladies doing a mixture of shopping, maiming ourselves, crocheting, movie watching, Starbucks enjoying, card playing, and laughing myself into an asthma attack. NOW, you might say, pffff, maiming, of course you maimed yourself moron, it's what you DO. However, I was not the one who whacked their head on metal rack while trying out a chair in Marshalls thankyouverymuch. But I was the one who nearly peed her pants laughing.  Sunday was spent in F-town at the zoo! and Monday? was spent in my pajamas....watching Deadliest Catch..... I can't stop myself. I'm sucked into a crab catching vortex.

This week the spring semester at my now Alma mater begins and I can't help but feel a little strange about it all. It feels weird not to be whining about the cost of my books and the amount of gas I'll be using and such, but also? it feels fucking AWESOME.

You may or may not have noticed a new addition to the blog page, on the top right you'll see a brightly colored new image, if you click on it, it'll take you to the shop page :) (which is still being worked on) I'm almost there with getting everything up and ready to go! But for now, onward and consume caffeine my friends, because while 3-day weekends are glorious, 4-day work weeks are evil little bastards.

somtimes i feel like sandra bullock in miss congeniality, but only when she was the awkward FBI agent and not the gorgeous pageant contestant

You know what I don't understand, can't wrap my mind around, what does not compute? Is how some women are able to be vigilant and constantly remain in a well groomed and put together manner. How the fuck do y'all pull it off? And you know who I'm talking about, you've seen her. She's always wearing clothes that match, is perfectly waxed, plucked, groomed, coiffed, make-uped, her hands and feet look like porcelain and feel like a baby's bootay-tay, her teeth are so god damn white when she smiles you think the aliens are finally using their lasers to kill us all, she never has bags under her eyes or bed head or last night's dinner stuck to her face, there are no soup stains on her shirt or holes in her sweater and you'd probably shit a brick if you ever saw her pull the sniff test on an item of clothing because she wasn't sure when she last wore OR washed it.

Yes, I'm talking about that woman. How does she do it? I'm lucky if I remember to brush my teeth and put on pants in the morning.  And by the time I've worked all day and gone to the gym, it takes every last ounce of energy to shove some mediocre food down my gullet and then stand in the shower hoping that the magic water will wash the germs away because I can't get my arms to function enough to actually scrub myself.  Then there's the blow drying and straightening of my fro', which really adds up to me standing with some sort of appliance in my hand wishing at that moment that I had no fucking hair and eventually giving up when it's still a damp, wavy mess, which only means that when I wake up it'll be plastered to my head and then I'll have to waste precious moments in the morning attempting to fix it.....before throwing it in a ponytail.

Where do they find the energy? The motivation? The gumption to pull it all together? This has to be one of the mysteries of the universe. And there are women of all ages, shapes and sizes that manage to do this. Believe me, I'm not kidding myself in imagining I will ever be capable of this miracle, I'd just like to be in on the damn secret. Because, come on, we all know that the day I can pull my neurotic self together this much means that either the apocalypse has arrived or my cat has murdered me in my sleep and it's just a dream.  I imagine my ghost self will be impeccable. Do you know someone like this? Or maybe you are this person. Either way, you should share your insights with me because I'm completely OCD and want to know dammit!

Since I don't have the skill of being well groomed, you'd think it meant I didn't have skills to do anything else. Which is entirely untrue. I have some time and skills but what I really lack is the motivation to do these things. However, things that allow me to watch back to back episodes of the Deadliest Catch on Netflix while sitting on my ass are perfect alternatives to all the aforementioned things I could be doing. This boils down to crafting, because my living room/couch always turn into a crafting bonanza. I'm currently working on getting a shop up on my blog for all those interested in purchasing any of my brightly colored things that I make. Go ahead, look at the links on the top of the page.....see it? That dark menu bar at the top right where you can see the "blog" page is highlighted? Well if you click on the shop page, you'll get a page under construction, but it's coming, I assure you. And once it's up you should totally spread the word because this home girl needs to start her grad school fund. I intend to pay for my degree by peddling yarn and paper creations, it's a beautiful thing. And to show you that getting this shop up and running is a whole-house effort, I give you Heimlich's efforts, he works so hard for y'all.

but when you send them make sure they have some liquor on hand.

Sometimes being creative is SUCH a curse.

Not that I'm a fantastically, awesome, amazing artist and creator, but I hold my own occasionally.  But, because I like to get crafty it means that there is SO MUCH CRAP in my house. And by crap, I mean supplies, memorabilia, pictures, cute postcards I run across and on and on that I know someday I'll use to create a masterpiece but right now it's just fucking driving me bonkers because I'm trying to clean out and organize my life now that I have some time and it's proving far more difficult than it seemed in my head.

If no one hears from me in a few days, send the paramedics, send hoarders, send somebody, because you're sure to find me buried under a pile of pictures and paint with some yarn tied around my neck.