Last night Lisa and I watched Sabrina (the Audrey Hepburn one not the Harrison Ford one) and honestly, it was not the best Audrey Hepburn movie I’ve seen. Don’t get me wrong, Audrey is ridiculously gorgeous, and the clothes (my god the clothes!) are absolutely to-die-for, especially all the divinely elegant coats she wears. But the rest of it, well I just didn’t find it very exciting. The plot goes to crap when she starts hanging out with Linus, because, frankly, he with the pants up to his boobs and the 5-foot-nothing stature, sucks. Humphrey Bogart in Sabrina has got to be the least charming and least sexy leading man I’ve ever seen on film, (possibly even worse than Matthew McConaughey in Failure to Launch, and that says a lot). My God, where is Cary Grant when you need him?
After that, we figured we should buckle down and watch the episode of Gilmore Girls I had recorded on Tuesday, even though we were dreading it like it was a chore. Oh my God did it suck, I am so sad at the state of that show these days. The whole Chris and Lorelei proposal/elopement thing, it was just so horrible and cringe-inducing, very difficult to watch. We were like 12-year girls during the scene when he was proposing, shrieking, “ewe, so gross!” I’ve been sort of content with their dating, I wouldn’t say I was enjoying it but it was actually kind of sweet, and they’re pretty good with the back-and-forth banter stuff, but all the teary-eyed confessions of love and the post-coital gushing, just plain gross. I can’t take it.
It’s been a nice weekend so far; I ran this morning, and then Dan and I went out for coffee and pastries (gotta balance out the exercise with high-calorie foods, right?), then we did some more Christmas shopping. We are doing so awesome this year, we’ve got about half of our list checked off and it’s not even Thanksgiving! Crap I’m boring, huh? Now we’re just chilling at home, drinking more coffee and awaiting Lisa and Angela’s arrival so we can order pizza. Then it’s off to Liz’s birthday party, which I’ve been looking forward to all week!
I believe this is the first time I have ever posted from home, which is kind of sad, but it’s a milestone of some sort, so it must be stated.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Monday, November 13, 2006
I had to look up the word "proverbial", and I still don't know how to use it
Dan and I went for a run outside yesterday morning, and holy crap did it seriously kick our asses. We’re doing a 5K on Thanksgiving morning, so we figured we should, I don’t know, train our lungs a bit for the cold as well as remind ourselves of the fact that it is so much easier to run on our treadmill than it is to run outside on the hilly streets in the freezing cold. Being that I was a total Debbie Downer about doing it, we did better than I expected, and I kind of sort of enjoyed it a little. It actually felt good to exercise outside, imagine that! I suppose it just feels a little more primal and gritty than running while watching the Top 20 Video Countdown on VH1. (Speaking of, did you see that Kiefer was on it this weekend? He is looking so yum these days, I can’t wait for 24 to come back!)
Anyway, it was really quite a nice little day we had yesterday, the perfect commitment-free lazy Sunday. We went out for a light lunch and sat around drinking coffee and Diet Coke, looking at the ads and talking about Christmas presents and finances and all that, but not in a stressful way. I think we figured out what camera we are going to buy to replace my broken Canon piece of crap. Oh, I suppose I have an update on the whole camera debacle. The nice people at Canon offered to fix it for us for just $169, which is nice of them, seeing as I can buy an entirely new camera for just about $100 more than that. Manufacturer’s warranties are such a scam. Grrr. Don’t buy a Canon, this is Canon number TWO that has gone to crap on us in like less than a year. I am bitter. This is just the worst time ever to have to buy a new camera, seeing as I have been talking about trying to buy a laptop and an ipod as well. With Christmas coming and our Colorado vacation just around the corner, (not to mention starting school in January), we can’t really afford any of them, let alone all of them.
Wow, my camera-ranting and financial issues are really really boring. Sorry. This blog sucks.
I should get going, it’s Monday and I have lots to do on Monday mornings at work, weekly actuals and multiple customer deliverables and all that. So far, though, I must say I’ve done a pretty good job procrastinating this morning. I wish I could put procrastinating on my resume and it be a good thing. I seriously rock the proverbial house of procrastination. That doesn’t make any sense.
Anyway, it was really quite a nice little day we had yesterday, the perfect commitment-free lazy Sunday. We went out for a light lunch and sat around drinking coffee and Diet Coke, looking at the ads and talking about Christmas presents and finances and all that, but not in a stressful way. I think we figured out what camera we are going to buy to replace my broken Canon piece of crap. Oh, I suppose I have an update on the whole camera debacle. The nice people at Canon offered to fix it for us for just $169, which is nice of them, seeing as I can buy an entirely new camera for just about $100 more than that. Manufacturer’s warranties are such a scam. Grrr. Don’t buy a Canon, this is Canon number TWO that has gone to crap on us in like less than a year. I am bitter. This is just the worst time ever to have to buy a new camera, seeing as I have been talking about trying to buy a laptop and an ipod as well. With Christmas coming and our Colorado vacation just around the corner, (not to mention starting school in January), we can’t really afford any of them, let alone all of them.
Wow, my camera-ranting and financial issues are really really boring. Sorry. This blog sucks.
I should get going, it’s Monday and I have lots to do on Monday mornings at work, weekly actuals and multiple customer deliverables and all that. So far, though, I must say I’ve done a pretty good job procrastinating this morning. I wish I could put procrastinating on my resume and it be a good thing. I seriously rock the proverbial house of procrastination. That doesn’t make any sense.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Not very perky today
I listen to a local talk radio station at my desk at work for most of the day (FM 107.1) and I can’t tell you how many “holiday-themed” commercials I am already hearing. And it really pisses me off. Seriously, I LOVE Christmas season! I am a tried and true sap when it comes to that time of the year, I love watching all the old-time movies on TV and listening to the non-stop holiday music on the radio, I love the blankets of snow on the roofs of the 70-year old Tudor houses in my neighborhood, I love the sparkling twinkle lights and red and gold bows all over the Twin Cities, I love baking cookies and putting them in Santa tins, I love making lists and shopping for gifts, (I don’t even mind the frantic malls filled to their brims with shoppers)… I seriously love everything about the holiday season. But it is November 8th, and it is just WAY TOO EARLY. Am I wrong? Isn’t this the reason why people are so exhausted and sick of it all by the time December 25th is finally here? By then, we’ve been fricken living it for two fricken months! Argh, it’s all those greedy big corporations’ fault, they’re ruining it for the rest of us. I’m becoming jaded and I hate that. I’m crabby now.
Speaking of things that make me crabby, did I tell y’all that I broke my camera on Halloween? I was so pissed, somehow I knocked it clear off the kitchen counter during the party. Yeah, I was a little bit drunken… but not “break-stuff-drunken”, I could have sworn I was more like “everything-is-hilarious-drunken”. But I suppose I did find out recently that I made plans for a game-night on November 11th with some friends, and I have no recollection of having that conversation at all, so I guess I was more “nonsense-talking-fuzzy-memory-camera-breaking-drunken”. Anyway, Best Buy sent the camera back to Canon, and since I’ve had it for less than a year, I’m praying they’ll either send me a new one or give me my money back. I’m sure that’s just wishful thinking, and they’ll somehow figure out that I did indeed drop it, a detail I specifically left out when Dan and I were talking to the Geek Squad guys. Whatevs. (Bets, that’s indeed a shout out.)
Wow, I am indeed a crabby biyatch.
Speaking of things that make me crabby, did I tell y’all that I broke my camera on Halloween? I was so pissed, somehow I knocked it clear off the kitchen counter during the party. Yeah, I was a little bit drunken… but not “break-stuff-drunken”, I could have sworn I was more like “everything-is-hilarious-drunken”. But I suppose I did find out recently that I made plans for a game-night on November 11th with some friends, and I have no recollection of having that conversation at all, so I guess I was more “nonsense-talking-fuzzy-memory-camera-breaking-drunken”. Anyway, Best Buy sent the camera back to Canon, and since I’ve had it for less than a year, I’m praying they’ll either send me a new one or give me my money back. I’m sure that’s just wishful thinking, and they’ll somehow figure out that I did indeed drop it, a detail I specifically left out when Dan and I were talking to the Geek Squad guys. Whatevs. (Bets, that’s indeed a shout out.)
Wow, I am indeed a crabby biyatch.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Testing... 1, 2, 3
Well, I’m glad that’s over.
I took the GMAT yesterday, and it would be an understatement to say that I didn’t manage my time very well in the math section. I ended up having to race the clock in the last 40 seconds trying to at least get some blind guesses in for the remaining 15 questions. Yeah, let me clarify, that’s 15 out of 37 total questions in the quantitative section that I just randomly picked an answer for. My heart was racing, my palms were sweating, and during those 40 seconds, I swear to God, I just wanted to curl up into the fetal position and cry. It was horrible.
But fear not my friends, I rocked the house on the verbal section (95th percentile baby!) and I ended up with a fairly decent (well, average) total score. Average will do just fine in this case, so I am not going to sweat it. I am just ecstatic to be over that hurdle.
Now it’s on to bugging my bosses for Letters of Recommendation and writing essays about my career goals and where I see myself in 10 years. Sweet.
And since this post had not an ounce of fun in it, here’s a picture of my baby. She is doing what she is almost always doing, dropping a toy at my feet and giving me her adorably irresistible doggy-eyes in an attempt to initiate a game of fetch.
I’m off to the polls, everyone get out and VOTE!
I took the GMAT yesterday, and it would be an understatement to say that I didn’t manage my time very well in the math section. I ended up having to race the clock in the last 40 seconds trying to at least get some blind guesses in for the remaining 15 questions. Yeah, let me clarify, that’s 15 out of 37 total questions in the quantitative section that I just randomly picked an answer for. My heart was racing, my palms were sweating, and during those 40 seconds, I swear to God, I just wanted to curl up into the fetal position and cry. It was horrible.
But fear not my friends, I rocked the house on the verbal section (95th percentile baby!) and I ended up with a fairly decent (well, average) total score. Average will do just fine in this case, so I am not going to sweat it. I am just ecstatic to be over that hurdle.
Now it’s on to bugging my bosses for Letters of Recommendation and writing essays about my career goals and where I see myself in 10 years. Sweet.
And since this post had not an ounce of fun in it, here’s a picture of my baby. She is doing what she is almost always doing, dropping a toy at my feet and giving me her adorably irresistible doggy-eyes in an attempt to initiate a game of fetch.
I’m off to the polls, everyone get out and VOTE!
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Donut Run
So I have to say I’m a little depressed today, I’m feeling a little let down. It just doesn’t seem like a Friday (I’m not crazy, I know its Thursday, but tomorrow is our Friday off, so it’s at least supposed to feel like Friday). And the reason? Our donut club has been abolished (that word sounds harsher than it should here, the donut club was terminated completely voluntarily by its members), and essentially I no longer have an excuse to eat a donut once a week. Why is it so much easier to guiltlessly enjoy a chocolate glazed donut when it is bought for you by someone else? I could have very easily picked one up this morning at the convenience store when I was getting my $0.89 coffee, (and believe me, I wanted to), but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I did everything I could to avert my eyes from the evil donut case while adding skim milk and sweet‘n low to my large dark roast.
Argh, I seriously want a donut so bad. Did I mention that I almost broke down and bought one from the cafeteria about an hour ago, but instead scampered off in shame still clutching my dollar bill after lurking about for no less than 60 seconds? Seriously? I am a loser.
In other news, I’m taking the GMAT on Monday and I am absolutely dreading it. I’m so terrified of doing terribly. When did I become so un-sure of myself? I seriously studied for about 15 minutes before taking the ACT in high school, (and only because my parents made me take one of those prep classes and I couldn’t pass notes the WHOLE two hours), and I kicked that test’s ass! I guess the GMAT is a little more important, starting my MBA this January pretty much hinges on it, and it is ridiculously more difficult than any other standardized test I've ever taken. No calculator! What are they trying to do to us? So my mind, at the moment, is a jumble of multiplication tables (quick, what’s 7 times 8?), grammatical rules, and geometrical (is that a real word?) formulas that I have not used since 10th grade. Oh, and I haven’t started studying for the writing portion of the test yet. There are two 30-minute essay portions of the test in which I must either evaluate and criticize an argument or make an argument of my own, offering full support of my stance. It’ll be a blast. I gotta say, though, it’s kind of fun to be doing “school” stuff again, I guess I sort of missed it, weird how that happens. Can someone remind me of that sentiment in 6 months when I’m knee-deep in managerial accounting rules and organizational development theory?
And in other, other news, I am not going to talk about how I started running again this week after almost two months of pure laziness because it will inevitably be the beginning of the end of my exercise motivation. (I swear, though, something clicked when we turned our clocks back for Day-light Savings.) I will just say that it feels awesome.
I still want a donut. Chocolate. With sprinkles.
(Did anyone catch my title's shout-out to the most delicous and hilarious show on television, Veronica Mars? Probably not, because I am a big geek.)
Also, why, when I type this up in Word, and copy into Blogger, does it condense into one the two spaces I have between the end of a sentence and the start of a new. What the hell is that about? I never noticed that until now. That pisses me off.
Argh, I seriously want a donut so bad. Did I mention that I almost broke down and bought one from the cafeteria about an hour ago, but instead scampered off in shame still clutching my dollar bill after lurking about for no less than 60 seconds? Seriously? I am a loser.
In other news, I’m taking the GMAT on Monday and I am absolutely dreading it. I’m so terrified of doing terribly. When did I become so un-sure of myself? I seriously studied for about 15 minutes before taking the ACT in high school, (and only because my parents made me take one of those prep classes and I couldn’t pass notes the WHOLE two hours), and I kicked that test’s ass! I guess the GMAT is a little more important, starting my MBA this January pretty much hinges on it, and it is ridiculously more difficult than any other standardized test I've ever taken. No calculator! What are they trying to do to us? So my mind, at the moment, is a jumble of multiplication tables (quick, what’s 7 times 8?), grammatical rules, and geometrical (is that a real word?) formulas that I have not used since 10th grade. Oh, and I haven’t started studying for the writing portion of the test yet. There are two 30-minute essay portions of the test in which I must either evaluate and criticize an argument or make an argument of my own, offering full support of my stance. It’ll be a blast. I gotta say, though, it’s kind of fun to be doing “school” stuff again, I guess I sort of missed it, weird how that happens. Can someone remind me of that sentiment in 6 months when I’m knee-deep in managerial accounting rules and organizational development theory?
And in other, other news, I am not going to talk about how I started running again this week after almost two months of pure laziness because it will inevitably be the beginning of the end of my exercise motivation. (I swear, though, something clicked when we turned our clocks back for Day-light Savings.) I will just say that it feels awesome.
I still want a donut. Chocolate. With sprinkles.
(Did anyone catch my title's shout-out to the most delicous and hilarious show on television, Veronica Mars? Probably not, because I am a big geek.)
Also, why, when I type this up in Word, and copy into Blogger, does it condense into one the two spaces I have between the end of a sentence and the start of a new. What the hell is that about? I never noticed that until now. That pisses me off.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Happy Halloween!
I'm still alive, I'll try to write soon! Hope everyone has a fabulous Halloween. It's, of course, f-ing freezing here in Minneapolis...
(That's me as FBI agent Clarice Starling, and Betsy the Slutty Bee!
(That's me as FBI agent Clarice Starling, and Betsy the Slutty Bee!
Monday, August 07, 2006
Stealth
So there’s this girl in my office that drives me absolutely crazy, and I don’t even know her. I realize I’m a terrible person for having such negative feelings towards someone who I know next-to-nothing about, and I also know that it’s even more despicable that I have decided to go as far as to write about how much she aggravates me here, but to that, I say, “whatever”. I’ve never claimed to be nice.
What do I know about this girl? Hmm… let’s see, I know that EVERYDAY she wears white high-top sneakers and tapered jeans (which are way too tight and surely must be painful to wear, as they cause me, an innocent bystander, to wince with pain whenever I see her sporting those crotch-separators.) I know that she just recently got her hair cut because the style she’s sporting is that whole stacked short bob/triangle cut I’m sure you’re all familiar with, and it is very obvious that the back of her neck has recently be shaved. I also know that she and I have somehow gotten our bathroom usage routines almost perfectly in synch, which continues to aggravate me on a daily basis. Truthfully, this is the main source of my annoyance with her, so let’s just quit with the introductions and break it down right now. This girl is the most irritating stealth pooper EVER!
We’ve already established that she is pretty much in the bathroom every single time I go there. I know this because we either fatefully end up walking in there at the same time, or I see her glaringly white high-tops from under the stall as I enter. Well, I’ve come to find that the poor girl has some serious issues with taking a “number two” when another lady is in the room. This is not something I begrudge her, as I, myself, am a practicing stealth pooper, however, the way we differ is that I have perfected the well-known routine and she just camps-the-hell-out in the stall. FOR AS LONG AS SHE HAS TO. It’s without fail: if I have to take a crap (yea, I know, I hate that I do it at work but I am a very regular girl and it is just unavoidable), she will be in there, and it’s almost as if she’s waiting for me, just waiting to thwart my plans to do my business. Thus, I go into my stall, listen for her, realize she is making no sounds whatsoever which means she is in there for the long haul, so I make a quick piddle, wash my hands, and get out of there, hoping I can come back in ten minutes and, God-willing, she’ll be gone.
This crap also happens when I’m the first one in there. I sit down, ready to get going, and I hear the door open. At that point I know I just can’t do it until the intruder is gone (I guess I’m sort of a sad character in this story as well, huh?) so I usually try to stall for a minute, playing with the toilet paper, pretending to adjust my clothing, hoping they’ll be quick. If there’s not a lot of movement from the other stall, I resign to the fact that it’s just not going to happen and I’ll have to come back later. And what do you know… I swear to God nine times out of ten, whose shoes do you think I see when I exit the stall and head to the sink? You’re damn right; it’s those ridiculous white high-tops. Sometimes the whole situation makes me so angry that I take my sweet ass time while washing my hands, maybe I’ll start fixing my hair, adjusting my outfit, cleaning scuffs off my shoes, checking for smudged makeup, anything that will make her sweat in there just a little bit.
I mean, seriously! Why can’t she be the one to (just once-in-a-while!) surrender and try again later? She has some major resolve and some crazy huge balls, I know that. I should also mention that on the occasion that the two of us are concurrently in the restroom to perform the less foul of the two bodily excretory functions, and if we end up at the sink washing our hands at the same time, the chick refuses to look me in the eye. I swear she knows how much she pisses me off, and she’s scared of me. Even though I am evil on the inside, and I blog about the gross bathroom antics that take place at my workplace, I am very nice in-person. I always give her a little half smile and a nod when we’re at the sink together, or when we pass each other in the hall, but she just looks down at her feet like a scared little boy. To which I say… “Whatever, don’t look at me punk, I really couldn’t care less, but you need to seriously look into the etiquette of office pooping. There’s a courteous way of doing it, and there’s a bitch way of doing it. Figure it out.”
What do I know about this girl? Hmm… let’s see, I know that EVERYDAY she wears white high-top sneakers and tapered jeans (which are way too tight and surely must be painful to wear, as they cause me, an innocent bystander, to wince with pain whenever I see her sporting those crotch-separators.) I know that she just recently got her hair cut because the style she’s sporting is that whole stacked short bob/triangle cut I’m sure you’re all familiar with, and it is very obvious that the back of her neck has recently be shaved. I also know that she and I have somehow gotten our bathroom usage routines almost perfectly in synch, which continues to aggravate me on a daily basis. Truthfully, this is the main source of my annoyance with her, so let’s just quit with the introductions and break it down right now. This girl is the most irritating stealth pooper EVER!
We’ve already established that she is pretty much in the bathroom every single time I go there. I know this because we either fatefully end up walking in there at the same time, or I see her glaringly white high-tops from under the stall as I enter. Well, I’ve come to find that the poor girl has some serious issues with taking a “number two” when another lady is in the room. This is not something I begrudge her, as I, myself, am a practicing stealth pooper, however, the way we differ is that I have perfected the well-known routine and she just camps-the-hell-out in the stall. FOR AS LONG AS SHE HAS TO. It’s without fail: if I have to take a crap (yea, I know, I hate that I do it at work but I am a very regular girl and it is just unavoidable), she will be in there, and it’s almost as if she’s waiting for me, just waiting to thwart my plans to do my business. Thus, I go into my stall, listen for her, realize she is making no sounds whatsoever which means she is in there for the long haul, so I make a quick piddle, wash my hands, and get out of there, hoping I can come back in ten minutes and, God-willing, she’ll be gone.
This crap also happens when I’m the first one in there. I sit down, ready to get going, and I hear the door open. At that point I know I just can’t do it until the intruder is gone (I guess I’m sort of a sad character in this story as well, huh?) so I usually try to stall for a minute, playing with the toilet paper, pretending to adjust my clothing, hoping they’ll be quick. If there’s not a lot of movement from the other stall, I resign to the fact that it’s just not going to happen and I’ll have to come back later. And what do you know… I swear to God nine times out of ten, whose shoes do you think I see when I exit the stall and head to the sink? You’re damn right; it’s those ridiculous white high-tops. Sometimes the whole situation makes me so angry that I take my sweet ass time while washing my hands, maybe I’ll start fixing my hair, adjusting my outfit, cleaning scuffs off my shoes, checking for smudged makeup, anything that will make her sweat in there just a little bit.
I mean, seriously! Why can’t she be the one to (just once-in-a-while!) surrender and try again later? She has some major resolve and some crazy huge balls, I know that. I should also mention that on the occasion that the two of us are concurrently in the restroom to perform the less foul of the two bodily excretory functions, and if we end up at the sink washing our hands at the same time, the chick refuses to look me in the eye. I swear she knows how much she pisses me off, and she’s scared of me. Even though I am evil on the inside, and I blog about the gross bathroom antics that take place at my workplace, I am very nice in-person. I always give her a little half smile and a nod when we’re at the sink together, or when we pass each other in the hall, but she just looks down at her feet like a scared little boy. To which I say… “Whatever, don’t look at me punk, I really couldn’t care less, but you need to seriously look into the etiquette of office pooping. There’s a courteous way of doing it, and there’s a bitch way of doing it. Figure it out.”
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Balderdash!
Finally, I present to you the long-ago-promised highlights from an intense game of Balderdash, played one scorching hot and sweaty July evening among eight good friends.
(That’s not really us, but it sure looks like they’re having fun doesn’t it?!)
I should probably preface this with one big fat, “You had to be there”, in case the absolute hilariousness of that evening is not quite as funny to someone who didn’t actually participate in it.
If you haven’t played balderdash, you basically have to exercise your twisted imagination and bullshit your way into winning. There are five categories: people, words (so very old-school), initials, movies, and laws, and I’m pretty sure I have highlights from each category. Seriously, I almost pissed my pants about 12 times throughout the evening. My friends are awesome.
Oh, one last note – none of these are mine because I am TERRIBLE at this game due to the fact that I am not quite as warped as my seven opponents. This game seriously stresses me out, and immediately upon receiving our word or movie or whatever, my heart starts beating crazily, my head starts spinning, and I furiously cross out words and scribble down nonsense until all other players are finished and ready to go. So yea. I suck. But as I said, my friends are awesome.
(That’s not really us, but it sure looks like they’re having fun doesn’t it?!)
I should probably preface this with one big fat, “You had to be there”, in case the absolute hilariousness of that evening is not quite as funny to someone who didn’t actually participate in it.
If you haven’t played balderdash, you basically have to exercise your twisted imagination and bullshit your way into winning. There are five categories: people, words (so very old-school), initials, movies, and laws, and I’m pretty sure I have highlights from each category. Seriously, I almost pissed my pants about 12 times throughout the evening. My friends are awesome.
Oh, one last note – none of these are mine because I am TERRIBLE at this game due to the fact that I am not quite as warped as my seven opponents. This game seriously stresses me out, and immediately upon receiving our word or movie or whatever, my heart starts beating crazily, my head starts spinning, and I furiously cross out words and scribble down nonsense until all other players are finished and ready to go. So yea. I suck. But as I said, my friends are awesome.
1. Category: Movie. “Bongo”
Making of a label: How Bongo Jeans became an American fashion statement. ~Heidi
The story of a young boy and his only friend: the drum. ~Angela
An eclectic tale of Gloria Estefan’s career from the conception of the Miami Sound Machine to a tragic bus accident; the beat goes on. [Definitely the best one all night, I should have left it for last.] ~Andy
2. Category: Law. “In North Carolina, it is against the law to enter into a…”
…homosexual relationship on the third Wednesday of the month while wearing a flip flop on your left foot, and a snake skin boot on your right. ~Dan
…kosher bakery after eating bacon, ham, or other pork products. ~Heidi
…Long John Silvers drive-thru through the exit lane unless you are smoking a cigarette made in North Carolina. [Seriously, what?] ~Andy
...walk-in-freezer without wearing a hat or earmuffs. [Ok, I decided to include one of mine, cause I was feeling left out.] ~Alicia
3. Category: Initials. “N.A.B.R.”
Nigerian-American Boxcar Racing ~Betsy
National Association of Bridge Repairers ~Corey
National Avairian Bathing Reservation ~Andy
4. Category: Person. “Bernard Moeller”
Proved white guys can jump at a slam dunk competition in Compton. ~Heidi
5. Category: Word. “Zyzzyva”
A powder like substance used to make Egyptian corn bread used in religious ceremonies. ~Betsy
A word of Czech origin referring to the vibration of a fart. ~Liz
Russian slang for poop. ~Corey
6. Category: Movie. “The Cow”
Whoopie Goldberg was the voice of the cow who was being threatened to leave her range for selling LSD. [Another one of those that makes you go, huh?] ~Dan
A tragic short detailing the ups & downs of yo-yo dieting. ~Andy
7. Category: Law. “In St. Anthony, Idaho, it is illegal to read…”
…any propaganda stating the potato is not delicious or nutritious. ~Heidi
…the Bible while going poop. [Dan actually read this as “the Bible while I poop”, because he had written a “1” on the paper that he somehow misconstrued as an “I”. This was really what got us rolling on the floor.]
8. Category: Initials. “H.H.M.I”
Hungry Hippos’ Members Insight ~Heidi
Humongous Homosexuals March Intoxicated [That would be quite a sight!] ~Dan
9. Category: Movie. “Ladies Who Do.”
An encapsilating tale of four horribly disfigured women who won’t take no for an answer. ~Andy
10. Category: Law. “In Tennessee, a now outdated law said a man was forbidden to divorce unless he…”
…had accidentally married a large mouth bass, or his cousin. ~Andy
11. Category: Initials. “P.H.C.A”
Plane Helicopter Car Association. ~Betsy
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Chicago Pictures!
Finally, I know. Sorry guys. Click on the picture and it'll send you on over to the set on Flickr.
Hopefully I'll be back blogging soon, but removing red-eye and uploading these mothers took me about three hours tonight, so I'm sorry that I don't have the time or energy to come up with any substance in this post. Later.
Hopefully I'll be back blogging soon, but removing red-eye and uploading these mothers took me about three hours tonight, so I'm sorry that I don't have the time or energy to come up with any substance in this post. Later.
Friday, June 09, 2006
Something's gotta give
I have been sitting at my desk, barely doing a thing all morning, in a trance-like state of exhaustion. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I am just so tired. So very tired. I had to have a conference call with some evil corporate grouchy accountants at 9:00, which did not help make my morning any better. Honestly, I am feeling so lazy and so blech, I can’t even think of the words so I can write them here because my brain hurts when I try to use it.
I’m feeling very uninspired with my job lately. I’m bored, and when I get bored, my motivation and ambition just fly right out my imaginary office window. I don’t know what I want to do with my life, but, my God, I can’t imagine 50 more years of this. Hell no. I want to do something creative, something that makes me excited, something that matters. The problem is, I have no idea what that is. This all sounds so cliché, and I hate that. Can’t I just be one of those people that makes good money doing a job that is just that, a job, and is happy in the rest of her life, happy with the people she’s chosen to spend her life with, happy with the things she does after work and on weekends and on vacations? I mean, there are lots of people out there that live their lives like that right?
Maybe it’s just the industry I’m in, I don’t think I necessarily hate being in finance, maybe I just hate working in government defense, that seems like a more logical explanation. Well, I hope that’s it, because changing jobs is one thing, I don’t know how to completely change your whole career path. It’s actually a really scary thing to think about, because I feel like I’ve let myself become so reliant on my income, and I’m not sure we could handle the adjustments that would have to be made as a family if that changed. And furthermore, I’m not sure I could handle that kind of pressure, the pressure that comes from making a huge life-changing decision. What happens if I don’t like the new career either? What happens if I fail? What happens if I change my mind? Being married means that these decisions are not just mine to make, what I do affects Dan and our future life together. But people do that kind of thing all the time, change careers, right? I’ve got to assume it works out sometimes, right? The one thing I’ve always wanted was to be an entrepreneur, but I’m such a chicken, terrified of loosing a shit-load of money, terrified of failing, letting myself down. But how great would it be if I didn’t fail? How amazing would it feel to have pride in what I’m doing, to get up in the morning excited about what I’m going to do that day?
I wonder if I’m just in a funk. I can’t even bring myself to do my hair in the morning lately. I’ve worn it up in a messy frizzy bun 4 out of the 5 working days this week. How’s that for cute? Today, I didn’t even bother getting out the blow-dryer at all. I just pulled all my wet, color-faded, split-end ridden hair back, slapped on some bronzer and mascara, grabbed my favorite comfy jeans from the laundry basket full of clean clothes that has been sitting in the living room for a week waiting for me to put them away, and topped the whole look off with flip flops that are not technically “suitable office attire”, even for casual Friday. Yes, I’m quite the professional.
I’m getting too comfortable. Being comfortable in a career should be a good thing, but I’m starting to worry that I’m not moving at the pace I should be. I need to get my MBA if I want to be on track with the people that all graduated when I did, but it’s hard to get motivated about doing that when I’m not sure I’m happy where this whole career thing of mine is going.
And then there’s babies, it all goes back to those damn babies doesn’t it? At some point here, I’d like to start having babies, and then will I even care about my career anymore? I almost feel like the answer to that question is no, but then I worry that the only reason I feel that way is because I am so bored with where I’m at now.
I just don’t know. Something has to change here though, at some point.
I’m feeling very uninspired with my job lately. I’m bored, and when I get bored, my motivation and ambition just fly right out my imaginary office window. I don’t know what I want to do with my life, but, my God, I can’t imagine 50 more years of this. Hell no. I want to do something creative, something that makes me excited, something that matters. The problem is, I have no idea what that is. This all sounds so cliché, and I hate that. Can’t I just be one of those people that makes good money doing a job that is just that, a job, and is happy in the rest of her life, happy with the people she’s chosen to spend her life with, happy with the things she does after work and on weekends and on vacations? I mean, there are lots of people out there that live their lives like that right?
Maybe it’s just the industry I’m in, I don’t think I necessarily hate being in finance, maybe I just hate working in government defense, that seems like a more logical explanation. Well, I hope that’s it, because changing jobs is one thing, I don’t know how to completely change your whole career path. It’s actually a really scary thing to think about, because I feel like I’ve let myself become so reliant on my income, and I’m not sure we could handle the adjustments that would have to be made as a family if that changed. And furthermore, I’m not sure I could handle that kind of pressure, the pressure that comes from making a huge life-changing decision. What happens if I don’t like the new career either? What happens if I fail? What happens if I change my mind? Being married means that these decisions are not just mine to make, what I do affects Dan and our future life together. But people do that kind of thing all the time, change careers, right? I’ve got to assume it works out sometimes, right? The one thing I’ve always wanted was to be an entrepreneur, but I’m such a chicken, terrified of loosing a shit-load of money, terrified of failing, letting myself down. But how great would it be if I didn’t fail? How amazing would it feel to have pride in what I’m doing, to get up in the morning excited about what I’m going to do that day?
I wonder if I’m just in a funk. I can’t even bring myself to do my hair in the morning lately. I’ve worn it up in a messy frizzy bun 4 out of the 5 working days this week. How’s that for cute? Today, I didn’t even bother getting out the blow-dryer at all. I just pulled all my wet, color-faded, split-end ridden hair back, slapped on some bronzer and mascara, grabbed my favorite comfy jeans from the laundry basket full of clean clothes that has been sitting in the living room for a week waiting for me to put them away, and topped the whole look off with flip flops that are not technically “suitable office attire”, even for casual Friday. Yes, I’m quite the professional.
I’m getting too comfortable. Being comfortable in a career should be a good thing, but I’m starting to worry that I’m not moving at the pace I should be. I need to get my MBA if I want to be on track with the people that all graduated when I did, but it’s hard to get motivated about doing that when I’m not sure I’m happy where this whole career thing of mine is going.
And then there’s babies, it all goes back to those damn babies doesn’t it? At some point here, I’d like to start having babies, and then will I even care about my career anymore? I almost feel like the answer to that question is no, but then I worry that the only reason I feel that way is because I am so bored with where I’m at now.
I just don’t know. Something has to change here though, at some point.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
There really is no sensical title for this post
Seriously, I am such a punk. I haven’t blogged in almost a month… again. In my defense, it’s been a crazy couple of weeks at work, and at home, well… it was May sweeps, and that means lots of really good TV and laying around on the couch eating frozen berries. So now that Grey’s Anatomy, Desperate Housewives, How I Met Your Mother, What About Brian (I know, that one's embarassing), 24, America’s Next Top Model, Lost, The Office, The OC, and Without a Trace are over for the season, I can start getting back into the land of the living, and start interacting with people in the three-dimensional world. Actually, I’m sort of lying, and I don’t know why! Who lies to their blog? In truth, my DVR is still packed with crap I haven’t watched yet, including the season finale of The OC (I know Marissa dies, I just haven’t gotten around to joyfully watching that episode yet), the season finale of 24 (and avoiding spoilers online has been so painfully difficult), and like the last six episodes of Without a Trace. But the fact that I have all that stellar TV to still watch furthur accentuates my point that I have been a busy girl.
Before I go on though, holy crap was that some good TV! Betsy got me hooked on America’s Next Top Model and I will forever be greatful for her wisdom, because that shit is like crack. I was so glad Danielle won, makes the fact that Biyatch Tyra made her close her signature gap (even though she’s constantly waxing poetic about models who have their own look and individuality) sort of worth it. Oh, and isn’t Twiggy just the sweetest little thing? I heart Twiggy. Jim’s declaration of Love to Pam and their kiss on The Office was such a pleasant heart-pounding surprise, though I was terrified for a second there that he was going to hook up with the rejected Jan. Lost was a whole two hours of going, “Holy crap!” And finally, Grey’s Anatomy is without a doubt my favorite show of all time. I am totally rooting for Addison to get some next year, because I love her and it is quite obvious that her and Derek should not be together. I say she should go for vet-boy Chris O’Donnell, because we all know that boy is going to be experiencing some major heartbreak in the near future. Poor scruffy hunky vetrinarian.
I’m listening to the radio here at work and they’re talking to the authors of The Nanny Diaries and I am so ridiculously excited for the movie to come out next year. Scarlett Johanssen is the perfect Nan, even though I heard they actually gave her a real name in the movie, and completely changed the ending, and added a best friend character played by Alicia Keys. Whatever, it still sounds awesome, Laura Linney and Paul Giamatti as Mr. and Mrs. X! Cool. Yea, I’m totally like transcribing the radio interview here, I’ll stop.
Should we talk about something other than TV and movies? How about my running schedule? It’s actually going pretty well, although so far this week I haven’t worked out at all, but I blame that on the long exhausting Memorial Day weekend at the cabin with my in-laws. As a whole, it’s turned into about every other day that I get up at 5:00 AM and run on the treadmill. I had hoped to do it every day, but I have very little will-power. Last week was a good week, I ran Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning before work and then Dan and I went for a run Saturday morning at the cabin (which totally kicked my ass because I am not used to running outside, let alone in 80 degree heat). I must give props where they are deserved, however, because on Wednesday I was so close to not getting up until Dan sleepily whispered, “I am disappointed in you.” It is exactly what I needed and he knew it. What an awesome husband I have, the best workout buddy ever. When I think back to working out in college, I can’t help but laugh, because I remember Betsy being able to plant the tiniest seed in my head, like, for example, “Maybe instead of going to kickboxing class we could stay home and watch TV and order Little Caesars”. At that point, all hope of getting out of the house was completely lost. How did we ever justify substituting a pizza for a workout? [Hee!] College Alicia and Betsy were funny. Anyway, I have actually noticed a tiny difference in the way my pants fit since I started up running again, but it hasn’t been very drastic. I think what I really need to do is give up going to Zantigo with the ladies at work twice a week. I know, it’s terrible, but have you ever had Zantigo? The chilitos are so ridiculously scrumptious, I just can’t say no to them. But I need to. Must. Say. No. [Note to self: also must say no to Starbucks iced vanilla non-fat lattes and low-fat bran muffins, having low-fat or nonfat in the name does not a healthy breakfast make.]
I had the best sex of my life last night. Haha, told you Dad, read my blog at your own risk. ;)
Yuck, I just grossed myself out by having “Dad” and “sex” in consecutive sentences. I think that should be it for today.
Sorry Dad, I’ve been tempted to do that for some time now, and I guess I’m just feeling spunky enough to do it today.
Before I go on though, holy crap was that some good TV! Betsy got me hooked on America’s Next Top Model and I will forever be greatful for her wisdom, because that shit is like crack. I was so glad Danielle won, makes the fact that Biyatch Tyra made her close her signature gap (even though she’s constantly waxing poetic about models who have their own look and individuality) sort of worth it. Oh, and isn’t Twiggy just the sweetest little thing? I heart Twiggy. Jim’s declaration of Love to Pam and their kiss on The Office was such a pleasant heart-pounding surprise, though I was terrified for a second there that he was going to hook up with the rejected Jan. Lost was a whole two hours of going, “Holy crap!” And finally, Grey’s Anatomy is without a doubt my favorite show of all time. I am totally rooting for Addison to get some next year, because I love her and it is quite obvious that her and Derek should not be together. I say she should go for vet-boy Chris O’Donnell, because we all know that boy is going to be experiencing some major heartbreak in the near future. Poor scruffy hunky vetrinarian.
I’m listening to the radio here at work and they’re talking to the authors of The Nanny Diaries and I am so ridiculously excited for the movie to come out next year. Scarlett Johanssen is the perfect Nan, even though I heard they actually gave her a real name in the movie, and completely changed the ending, and added a best friend character played by Alicia Keys. Whatever, it still sounds awesome, Laura Linney and Paul Giamatti as Mr. and Mrs. X! Cool. Yea, I’m totally like transcribing the radio interview here, I’ll stop.
Should we talk about something other than TV and movies? How about my running schedule? It’s actually going pretty well, although so far this week I haven’t worked out at all, but I blame that on the long exhausting Memorial Day weekend at the cabin with my in-laws. As a whole, it’s turned into about every other day that I get up at 5:00 AM and run on the treadmill. I had hoped to do it every day, but I have very little will-power. Last week was a good week, I ran Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning before work and then Dan and I went for a run Saturday morning at the cabin (which totally kicked my ass because I am not used to running outside, let alone in 80 degree heat). I must give props where they are deserved, however, because on Wednesday I was so close to not getting up until Dan sleepily whispered, “I am disappointed in you.” It is exactly what I needed and he knew it. What an awesome husband I have, the best workout buddy ever. When I think back to working out in college, I can’t help but laugh, because I remember Betsy being able to plant the tiniest seed in my head, like, for example, “Maybe instead of going to kickboxing class we could stay home and watch TV and order Little Caesars”. At that point, all hope of getting out of the house was completely lost. How did we ever justify substituting a pizza for a workout? [Hee!] College Alicia and Betsy were funny. Anyway, I have actually noticed a tiny difference in the way my pants fit since I started up running again, but it hasn’t been very drastic. I think what I really need to do is give up going to Zantigo with the ladies at work twice a week. I know, it’s terrible, but have you ever had Zantigo? The chilitos are so ridiculously scrumptious, I just can’t say no to them. But I need to. Must. Say. No. [Note to self: also must say no to Starbucks iced vanilla non-fat lattes and low-fat bran muffins, having low-fat or nonfat in the name does not a healthy breakfast make.]
I had the best sex of my life last night. Haha, told you Dad, read my blog at your own risk. ;)
Yuck, I just grossed myself out by having “Dad” and “sex” in consecutive sentences. I think that should be it for today.
Sorry Dad, I’ve been tempted to do that for some time now, and I guess I’m just feeling spunky enough to do it today.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
More tales of the treadmill...
At the risk of jinxing myself by talking about this, I have decided on a new workout schedule. It’s going to be hard to get used to, but I think if I can stick with it for a couple weeks, it will become a habit.
Lately, I have been having so much trouble staying motivated to run after work. At the start of my day, I fully plan on working out when I get home, I find myself actually excited about it. As I sit at my desk playing with spreadsheets and punching numbers into my calculator, I can literally feel my ass getting wider and flatter, and I look forward to a good run at the end of the day to counter some of the widening and flattening. But that's all forgotten by early evening when I walk through my back door. Seriously, I am the queen of excuses, and I hate myself for it. The fact that summer is rapidly approaching only adds to my list of excuses because I actually have a life in the summer. After nearly three weeks of, “I just have too much of a headache from the terrible traffic, I’m not going to run today,” and, “Yea, I’ll skip my work-out today so we can go out to dinner with my parents,” and lots of, “It was such a long day and I’m just too tired and hungry to get on the treadmill, " I've decided I need to take a different course of action.
I’ve decided that my only real option is to drag my ass out of bed 45 minutes earlier than usual and jump on the treadmill before getting ready for work, because bitch, I want to look hot in my tank tops and short skirts this summer! (Let’s not even mention the whole swimsuit issue, because yes, it is certainly an issue.) I meant to start this whole work out plan at the beginning of the week (Monday morning), but I’ll admit that didn’t happen. Thank God I have such a prick of a husband who has no faith in my discipline whatsoever because his snide comments about my failed attempt the day before were swimming around in my head this morning at 4:53 AM as I lay in bed anticipating the screech of the alarm clock radio. Those thoughts provided me with that extra little kick in the butt to get up and do it… “I’ll show him!” I muttered to myself as I stumbled around in the dark, frantically rummaging through my dresser drawers in search of my favorite sports bra.
I am soooo not a morning person.
Anyway, so I did it, and the first step out of bed was, of course, the worst part. The run felt incredible, and I got to watch Soledad O’Brien do her thing on the CNN morning news show while becoming an actual informed citizen of the United States - - I can’t even recall the last time I watched a national news program, unless Regis and Kelly on my Fridays off counts, which I don’t think it does. ;) I’m going to do my best to keep it up. Even on days when I don’t feel up for running, I’ll get up at 5:00 and walk instead. I can do this, right? Hell yea I can!
Now please don’t let this be part of that whole blog curse where you write about a big lifestyle change or vow to do something and it totally falls to crap immediately.
Lately, I have been having so much trouble staying motivated to run after work. At the start of my day, I fully plan on working out when I get home, I find myself actually excited about it. As I sit at my desk playing with spreadsheets and punching numbers into my calculator, I can literally feel my ass getting wider and flatter, and I look forward to a good run at the end of the day to counter some of the widening and flattening. But that's all forgotten by early evening when I walk through my back door. Seriously, I am the queen of excuses, and I hate myself for it. The fact that summer is rapidly approaching only adds to my list of excuses because I actually have a life in the summer. After nearly three weeks of, “I just have too much of a headache from the terrible traffic, I’m not going to run today,” and, “Yea, I’ll skip my work-out today so we can go out to dinner with my parents,” and lots of, “It was such a long day and I’m just too tired and hungry to get on the treadmill, " I've decided I need to take a different course of action.
I’ve decided that my only real option is to drag my ass out of bed 45 minutes earlier than usual and jump on the treadmill before getting ready for work, because bitch, I want to look hot in my tank tops and short skirts this summer! (Let’s not even mention the whole swimsuit issue, because yes, it is certainly an issue.) I meant to start this whole work out plan at the beginning of the week (Monday morning), but I’ll admit that didn’t happen. Thank God I have such a prick of a husband who has no faith in my discipline whatsoever because his snide comments about my failed attempt the day before were swimming around in my head this morning at 4:53 AM as I lay in bed anticipating the screech of the alarm clock radio. Those thoughts provided me with that extra little kick in the butt to get up and do it… “I’ll show him!” I muttered to myself as I stumbled around in the dark, frantically rummaging through my dresser drawers in search of my favorite sports bra.
I am soooo not a morning person.
Anyway, so I did it, and the first step out of bed was, of course, the worst part. The run felt incredible, and I got to watch Soledad O’Brien do her thing on the CNN morning news show while becoming an actual informed citizen of the United States - - I can’t even recall the last time I watched a national news program, unless Regis and Kelly on my Fridays off counts, which I don’t think it does. ;) I’m going to do my best to keep it up. Even on days when I don’t feel up for running, I’ll get up at 5:00 and walk instead. I can do this, right? Hell yea I can!
Now please don’t let this be part of that whole blog curse where you write about a big lifestyle change or vow to do something and it totally falls to crap immediately.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Sum-sum-summertime!
It’s official, summer is on it’s way, and lately I find myself noticing the countless signs pointing to the approaching season:
1. Yesterday I got my first mystic tan of the season, so I am looking pretty darn orange here at work. I guess I’m not as good at blending into the crusty beige walls as I used to be (I suppose that’s what happens when you actually start socializing with your coworkers), because while last year no one in the office made a mention of my sudden tan-ness when I came into work the day after a session with the spray-tan booth, today I can’t seem to get people to shut up about it. Thankfully, it has all been good attention, and I’ve been praised by many for not succumbing to the allure of the early death and leathery skin causing tanning bed. I’ll be “thankful when I’m older” they all say, and I will have beautiful cancer-free skin to show off in the nursing home. To that I say, bitch it god damn better pay off, because if I have to suffer through weird brown patches on my dry elbows and knees and noticeable white lines on my hands and fingers where I was obviously not careful enough with the “barrier cream”, then I better have god damn gorgeous porcelain skin when I’m 50. For those of you contemplating trying Mystic Tan, I am totally exaggerating (because that is what I do, I exaggerate) and would 100% recommend it. Just be sure to exfoliate and moisturize REALLY well before you go. The first time is always tricky, and yesterday was like the first time for me because I had totally forgotten how important all that prep stuff is when I half-heartedly ran the louffa and Dove exfoliating body wash over my body in the shower, and then forgot to put lotion on anything but my legs. Whatever. I still feel thinner and more attractive with my patchy tan skin.
2. Dan had his first softball game of the season last night. It was a gorgeous perfect night, and the dog was so good and so happy to be at the field. Makes me really look forward to a summer of balmy nights at the softball field, gossiping with the ladies, occasionally cheering on my husband, throwing the tennis ball around for Bella, and just generally enjoying the beautiful Minnesota weather. I can’t wait. It was nice to get a little taste of it last night.
3. I’m eating salads again. I’m no longer craving the heavy starches and steamy creamy soups like I did for the last five months. I’m still hardly doing any actually cooking at home, but when I find myself eating out for the 56th time in one week, I find myself getting my 56th salad for the week. Definitely not a bad thing.
4. On a similar note to the salad thing, I have been forgoing the huge glasses of delicious red wine for margarita after margarita after margarita. I simply can’t get enough of the margs (as Betsy so hilariously refers to them). Furthermore, I suddenly have no problem being the only one in my party to order a drink whenever we go out, I have no idea where that came from but it has to have something to do with the weather getting warmer. Right?
5. The upcoming weekends are slowly filling up… a road trip to Chicago, weekends at the cabin, a trip to Lake Geneva for the Music by the Lake festival. I know it’s that time of the year again when we’re trying to set up a weekend in July for a trip to a friend’s cabin up north and the only one we can all agree on is the last one.
6. Two words. Iced Coffees. Mmmmmmm…
7. The parking lot at work is virtually empty on Fridays by 2:00 in the afternoon. You won’t hear me complaining! In fact, I don’t know what I’m still doing here right now, I need to be heading off to happy hour anyways for my boss’s send-off. See, I really do stand by my promises, I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t promised an actual blog entry today.
With that, I must go, before I head over to the bar I need to make a quick stop at target for a better exfoliating sponge and some pressed powder to tone down the orangeness a bit. Have a good one!
1. Yesterday I got my first mystic tan of the season, so I am looking pretty darn orange here at work. I guess I’m not as good at blending into the crusty beige walls as I used to be (I suppose that’s what happens when you actually start socializing with your coworkers), because while last year no one in the office made a mention of my sudden tan-ness when I came into work the day after a session with the spray-tan booth, today I can’t seem to get people to shut up about it. Thankfully, it has all been good attention, and I’ve been praised by many for not succumbing to the allure of the early death and leathery skin causing tanning bed. I’ll be “thankful when I’m older” they all say, and I will have beautiful cancer-free skin to show off in the nursing home. To that I say, bitch it god damn better pay off, because if I have to suffer through weird brown patches on my dry elbows and knees and noticeable white lines on my hands and fingers where I was obviously not careful enough with the “barrier cream”, then I better have god damn gorgeous porcelain skin when I’m 50. For those of you contemplating trying Mystic Tan, I am totally exaggerating (because that is what I do, I exaggerate) and would 100% recommend it. Just be sure to exfoliate and moisturize REALLY well before you go. The first time is always tricky, and yesterday was like the first time for me because I had totally forgotten how important all that prep stuff is when I half-heartedly ran the louffa and Dove exfoliating body wash over my body in the shower, and then forgot to put lotion on anything but my legs. Whatever. I still feel thinner and more attractive with my patchy tan skin.
2. Dan had his first softball game of the season last night. It was a gorgeous perfect night, and the dog was so good and so happy to be at the field. Makes me really look forward to a summer of balmy nights at the softball field, gossiping with the ladies, occasionally cheering on my husband, throwing the tennis ball around for Bella, and just generally enjoying the beautiful Minnesota weather. I can’t wait. It was nice to get a little taste of it last night.
3. I’m eating salads again. I’m no longer craving the heavy starches and steamy creamy soups like I did for the last five months. I’m still hardly doing any actually cooking at home, but when I find myself eating out for the 56th time in one week, I find myself getting my 56th salad for the week. Definitely not a bad thing.
4. On a similar note to the salad thing, I have been forgoing the huge glasses of delicious red wine for margarita after margarita after margarita. I simply can’t get enough of the margs (as Betsy so hilariously refers to them). Furthermore, I suddenly have no problem being the only one in my party to order a drink whenever we go out, I have no idea where that came from but it has to have something to do with the weather getting warmer. Right?
5. The upcoming weekends are slowly filling up… a road trip to Chicago, weekends at the cabin, a trip to Lake Geneva for the Music by the Lake festival. I know it’s that time of the year again when we’re trying to set up a weekend in July for a trip to a friend’s cabin up north and the only one we can all agree on is the last one.
6. Two words. Iced Coffees. Mmmmmmm…
7. The parking lot at work is virtually empty on Fridays by 2:00 in the afternoon. You won’t hear me complaining! In fact, I don’t know what I’m still doing here right now, I need to be heading off to happy hour anyways for my boss’s send-off. See, I really do stand by my promises, I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t promised an actual blog entry today.
With that, I must go, before I head over to the bar I need to make a quick stop at target for a better exfoliating sponge and some pressed powder to tone down the orangeness a bit. Have a good one!
Quick note
I really need to get back into blogging. This sucks. I promise to try to write today. Not that anyone’s reading this.
To tide you over until then (my dear sweet nonexistent readers), I will leave you with this picture from our belly dancing performance for The Guild of Oriental Dance this last Sunday. That's me in the back on the right (note the large distinguishing ears), and the super tiny and tan cute brunette in the front and center is Betsy.
To tide you over until then (my dear sweet nonexistent readers), I will leave you with this picture from our belly dancing performance for The Guild of Oriental Dance this last Sunday. That's me in the back on the right (note the large distinguishing ears), and the super tiny and tan cute brunette in the front and center is Betsy.
Friday, March 17, 2006
Life
I’m beginning to have a little anxiety about the future. I feel like I’m stuck in the middle of a fun little self-involved twenty-something life and real undeniable adulthood; and the real undeniable adulthood is slowly creeping up on me and is ready to bite me in the ass when I least expect it. I realize I’m not really making any sense, but bear with me. Ok. So as I’ve always seen it, there are three distinguishable stages of a person’s life:
1. Childhood and schooling
2. Grey area adulthood when life is still “all about you”
3. Full-fledged grown-up - marriage, children, the whole works
Even though I’ve been married for almost two years now, I still consider myself in stage two, where it’s all about juggling the grown-up responsibilities with the immature tendencies of a self-involved twenty-something. College degree – check. Credit card balances way higher than they should be – check. Decent job, decent salary – check, check. A predisposition for choosing take-out over grocery shopping – check. Car payment, student loans – check. Procrastination of oil changes, tire rotations, tune-ups, and even gas replenishment (holding off until the car is running on fumes) – four big ass checks.
I can feel myself moving into stage three, and I’ve taken some pretty significant and obvious steps toward it by, of course, getting married, then buying a house, and finally last year getting a dog. Bella has been a really big step actually, because my life is certainly no longer all about me (and Dan). Now we have to think about how much time we’re spending at home with the dog, we constantly have in the back of our minds that she’s at home in her kennel waiting for us to come home and play with her, and on a random beautiful Saturday in the middle of March we have to make the decision to either spend it running errands and “doing lunch” or taking her for a walk and allowing her to enjoy the day. It’s been a change having that extra part of our family to worry about, but a good change, a really really good change. A year later I can’t imagine my life without her sweet dog kisses.
I’ll be honest, I don’t really know where I’m going with all of this, but these feelings and admittedly overly analytical evaluations of my life have certainly stemmed from the fact that half of my friends have decided it is time to jump head first into the throws of stage three by having lots and lots of babies. Babies, these days, are EVERYWHERE, and pregnancy is, indeed, the new black.
I’m getting excited though. I’m starting to want what they have. These babies, I tell you, they smell so good, their little foreheads and fingers and noses are deliciously kissable, I love to squeeze their little bums, I love to rub their little furry heads, and I simply can’t resist their delectable little neck-folds.
When is it you know you are really truly ready for stage three? Do you ever know? I can’t imagine myself ever saying, “Yeah I’m totally ready for a baby, I’m totally ready to give up belly dancing, pay far less attention to my tivo, forgo Friday night drinks with the girls for bath time and boob-sucking.” I’m guessing it’s something you have to just jump into blindfolded, because as prepared as a young couple thinks they are for their first child, they never really know what they’re getting into. I don’t know.
I do know, however, that when I go to Colorado next January I will not be pregnant and stuck in the challet reading "What to Expect When You're Expecting" while the rest of my family is flying wildly down the mountains through fresh powder. So I’ve got at least a year to get used to the idea of drastically altering my happy little existence, and I sure as hell am going to make the most of that year.
To my girls, we need to plan our trip. I could care less what it is, a Caribbean cruise, an all-inclusive Mexican resort, whatever! As long as we are all there, in addition to lots of alcohol, dancing, sunbathing, and beaches, I will be a happy girl. So let’s get on it ladies, the clock is ticking!
1. Childhood and schooling
2. Grey area adulthood when life is still “all about you”
3. Full-fledged grown-up - marriage, children, the whole works
Even though I’ve been married for almost two years now, I still consider myself in stage two, where it’s all about juggling the grown-up responsibilities with the immature tendencies of a self-involved twenty-something. College degree – check. Credit card balances way higher than they should be – check. Decent job, decent salary – check, check. A predisposition for choosing take-out over grocery shopping – check. Car payment, student loans – check. Procrastination of oil changes, tire rotations, tune-ups, and even gas replenishment (holding off until the car is running on fumes) – four big ass checks.
I can feel myself moving into stage three, and I’ve taken some pretty significant and obvious steps toward it by, of course, getting married, then buying a house, and finally last year getting a dog. Bella has been a really big step actually, because my life is certainly no longer all about me (and Dan). Now we have to think about how much time we’re spending at home with the dog, we constantly have in the back of our minds that she’s at home in her kennel waiting for us to come home and play with her, and on a random beautiful Saturday in the middle of March we have to make the decision to either spend it running errands and “doing lunch” or taking her for a walk and allowing her to enjoy the day. It’s been a change having that extra part of our family to worry about, but a good change, a really really good change. A year later I can’t imagine my life without her sweet dog kisses.
I’ll be honest, I don’t really know where I’m going with all of this, but these feelings and admittedly overly analytical evaluations of my life have certainly stemmed from the fact that half of my friends have decided it is time to jump head first into the throws of stage three by having lots and lots of babies. Babies, these days, are EVERYWHERE, and pregnancy is, indeed, the new black.
I’m getting excited though. I’m starting to want what they have. These babies, I tell you, they smell so good, their little foreheads and fingers and noses are deliciously kissable, I love to squeeze their little bums, I love to rub their little furry heads, and I simply can’t resist their delectable little neck-folds.
When is it you know you are really truly ready for stage three? Do you ever know? I can’t imagine myself ever saying, “Yeah I’m totally ready for a baby, I’m totally ready to give up belly dancing, pay far less attention to my tivo, forgo Friday night drinks with the girls for bath time and boob-sucking.” I’m guessing it’s something you have to just jump into blindfolded, because as prepared as a young couple thinks they are for their first child, they never really know what they’re getting into. I don’t know.
I do know, however, that when I go to Colorado next January I will not be pregnant and stuck in the challet reading "What to Expect When You're Expecting" while the rest of my family is flying wildly down the mountains through fresh powder. So I’ve got at least a year to get used to the idea of drastically altering my happy little existence, and I sure as hell am going to make the most of that year.
To my girls, we need to plan our trip. I could care less what it is, a Caribbean cruise, an all-inclusive Mexican resort, whatever! As long as we are all there, in addition to lots of alcohol, dancing, sunbathing, and beaches, I will be a happy girl. So let’s get on it ladies, the clock is ticking!
Monday, January 30, 2006
Stuff
Yea, ok, so it’s been a while. I’ve just been really lazy lately, I’m feeling kind of, I don’t know, hum-drum about my life. You see, I’ve got this routine going, and I like it, but it doesn’t leave me with very many fantastically entertaining stories for this here blog. I’m going to try to update on what’s been happening though here, get you all up to speed on my ultra-fascinating life.
* I have to put this one first, because it is so incredibly amazing, and I just simply can’t handle my excitement. My husband and I have acquired something that has altered the course our lives forever, something that I’ve been lusting after for more than a year. Yes, we got Tivo. [Halleluiah Chorus sounds, trumpets ablaze.] Well not really Tivo, per se, DVR through our cable company, which is the same thing, only better and cheaper.
* I’m throwing another baby shower, this time for my sister-in-law, in just three weeks and I’m feeling a little stressed and admittedly over-committed and I would love it if I could have our little TV room painted by then (we finally bought a rug this weekend) but that seems completely impossible. I don’t know, I need to come up with a cute h’ourderves menu for the party and I really want it to be classy and sort of like an “afternoon tea” kind of event. So I would of course appreciate suggestions, recipes, help of any kind really, although I’m kind of anal when it comes to throwing parties, and I need everything to go with everything and have been known to get really bossy. Wow, not painting a pretty picture of myself here am I?
* On my day off on Friday I died my hair. Yea, for the first time in my life, I am a brunette. Kinda crazy, a lot darker than I had anticipated, but I like it. My biggest anxiety was coming into work today, because obviously it is EXTREMELY different, and that kind of attention freaks me out a little. So far, the two ladies in nearby offices have complimented me on it, and my boss has said, “So… ah… what happened to your hair?” I’m pretty sure that was neither positive, nor negative, just the honest reaction of an over-fifty year-old man. It made me chuckle.
* My mom and I saw Casanova for $2 at the cheap theater yesterday afternoon, and actually really enjoyed it. It was total fluff, but Heath Ledger has got the whole boyish charm thing down pat, and it made for a fun little brainless movie excursion. Exactly what I was looking for. I also finally watched that Jennifer Love Hewitt ABC Family movie that I had recorded a few weeks ago. I am such a lame-ass, I was totally Mrs. Weepy McWeeperson for more than half the movie. Jennifer Love Hewitt did what she does best, which is acting as annoyingly cutesy as possible, and she was able to sneak in two whole scenes where she was romping around in men’s underwear doing her pouty, “I’m sexy in an attainable way because I’m wearing my boyfriend’s white boxer-briefs and aren’t I so the girl next door?” look. Somehow, with all that, I enjoyed the movie, because that’s the kind of sappy weak-minded girl I am.
* I finally started listening to the Natasha Bedingfield CD I got for Christmas and I am loving it to pieces. I urge you to check it out because it is pure girlie pop goodness. I’ve been playing tracks 5 and 13 on repeat here at work all morning.
* We had a game night on Friday night with the whole college group, and it was a blast. Angela was sweet enough to offer up her apartment for the evening (and by the way buddy, your place looks so great, it really has turned into a beautiful cozy home, I am so in love with everything you have done!) My team won our marathon game of Cranium, many thanks going to Lisa’s uncanny ability to draw realistic chickens with her eyes closed. It was a great night, so fun to get everyone together, it really goes without saying how much I love all my amazing friends.
* My little brother was in town with his girlfriend about a week ago, and Dan and I had a great time having them around. Michelle is so sweet, and slowly coming out of her shell around the family, I’m really happy for Ben. He also did the impossible by getting Dan and I in an actual bar for the first time in I don’t know how long. I miss that whole “scene” and have decided I really need to start venturing back out there before I become an old woman. Before I know it, it will be babies and diapers, Bob the Builder birthday parties and potty-training charts, and then science projects and soccer games. While I look forward to all that, I need to start taking advantage of the fact that I am a fabulous twenty-something woman with a fabulous husband and fabulous friends, living in the fabulous city of Minneapolis. So from now on it’s Martinis, trendy bars, and dancing until wee hours of the morning. (Ten bucks says I’m back to being a home-body in less than a week.)
* I have to put this one first, because it is so incredibly amazing, and I just simply can’t handle my excitement. My husband and I have acquired something that has altered the course our lives forever, something that I’ve been lusting after for more than a year. Yes, we got Tivo. [Halleluiah Chorus sounds, trumpets ablaze.] Well not really Tivo, per se, DVR through our cable company, which is the same thing, only better and cheaper.
* I’m throwing another baby shower, this time for my sister-in-law, in just three weeks and I’m feeling a little stressed and admittedly over-committed and I would love it if I could have our little TV room painted by then (we finally bought a rug this weekend) but that seems completely impossible. I don’t know, I need to come up with a cute h’ourderves menu for the party and I really want it to be classy and sort of like an “afternoon tea” kind of event. So I would of course appreciate suggestions, recipes, help of any kind really, although I’m kind of anal when it comes to throwing parties, and I need everything to go with everything and have been known to get really bossy. Wow, not painting a pretty picture of myself here am I?
* On my day off on Friday I died my hair. Yea, for the first time in my life, I am a brunette. Kinda crazy, a lot darker than I had anticipated, but I like it. My biggest anxiety was coming into work today, because obviously it is EXTREMELY different, and that kind of attention freaks me out a little. So far, the two ladies in nearby offices have complimented me on it, and my boss has said, “So… ah… what happened to your hair?” I’m pretty sure that was neither positive, nor negative, just the honest reaction of an over-fifty year-old man. It made me chuckle.
* My mom and I saw Casanova for $2 at the cheap theater yesterday afternoon, and actually really enjoyed it. It was total fluff, but Heath Ledger has got the whole boyish charm thing down pat, and it made for a fun little brainless movie excursion. Exactly what I was looking for. I also finally watched that Jennifer Love Hewitt ABC Family movie that I had recorded a few weeks ago. I am such a lame-ass, I was totally Mrs. Weepy McWeeperson for more than half the movie. Jennifer Love Hewitt did what she does best, which is acting as annoyingly cutesy as possible, and she was able to sneak in two whole scenes where she was romping around in men’s underwear doing her pouty, “I’m sexy in an attainable way because I’m wearing my boyfriend’s white boxer-briefs and aren’t I so the girl next door?” look. Somehow, with all that, I enjoyed the movie, because that’s the kind of sappy weak-minded girl I am.
* I finally started listening to the Natasha Bedingfield CD I got for Christmas and I am loving it to pieces. I urge you to check it out because it is pure girlie pop goodness. I’ve been playing tracks 5 and 13 on repeat here at work all morning.
* We had a game night on Friday night with the whole college group, and it was a blast. Angela was sweet enough to offer up her apartment for the evening (and by the way buddy, your place looks so great, it really has turned into a beautiful cozy home, I am so in love with everything you have done!) My team won our marathon game of Cranium, many thanks going to Lisa’s uncanny ability to draw realistic chickens with her eyes closed. It was a great night, so fun to get everyone together, it really goes without saying how much I love all my amazing friends.
* My little brother was in town with his girlfriend about a week ago, and Dan and I had a great time having them around. Michelle is so sweet, and slowly coming out of her shell around the family, I’m really happy for Ben. He also did the impossible by getting Dan and I in an actual bar for the first time in I don’t know how long. I miss that whole “scene” and have decided I really need to start venturing back out there before I become an old woman. Before I know it, it will be babies and diapers, Bob the Builder birthday parties and potty-training charts, and then science projects and soccer games. While I look forward to all that, I need to start taking advantage of the fact that I am a fabulous twenty-something woman with a fabulous husband and fabulous friends, living in the fabulous city of Minneapolis. So from now on it’s Martinis, trendy bars, and dancing until wee hours of the morning. (Ten bucks says I’m back to being a home-body in less than a week.)
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Mariah Carey looked like a sausage
I pretty much spent the entire evening on the couch last night watching the Golden Globes, and of course, the preceding red carpet coverage. It was nice to be able to flip between both Joan and Melissa on the TV Guide channel and the Isaac Mizrahi train wreck on E!. Every time one of them made me uncomfortable, I could just skirt on over to the other channel. I don’t know, I suppose Mizrahi’s bizarre questions did bring out some interesting responses, but it just felt painful to watch. It was quite obvious he hasn’t seen any of the movies or television shows these actors were being honored for, which is fine as I must admit the red carpet is all about the fashions, but it just made things so awkward. Maybe I’m alone in my Mizrahi hate, I don’t know. I’ll say this, he was way better than the ridiculous Star Jones, who has practically disappeared into thin air she’s lost so much weight. No surgery, my ass.
Joan was just as bad, my favorite moment was when she was talking to Emma Thompson, who had brought with her Colin Firth as her date. She had no idea that it was Colin Firth, and started talking to him like he was Emma Thompson’s husband. It was quite hilarious, and I don’t remember what he said, but it was along the lines of, “Oh, no Joan, I’m not her husband, I’m Colin Firth!” Hilarious.
Oh, and what is with Jonathan Rhys Meyers, that guy’s got a major stick up his ass. He was visibly annoyed to be talking with Joan Rivers, which I guess is understandable, but dude, lighten up! He seems like quite the self-involved prick if you ask me. That’s what being in a Woody Allen film will do to you, I guess.
George Clooney looked dreamy. Mmmmm…
Honorable mention goes to Patrick Dempsey – love that beautiful man.
The majority of the Desperate Housewives are really aggravating these days (still love Felicity Huffman, but Teri Hatcher certainly pisses me off the most), so I was glad to see that Mary Louise-Parker won the Golden Globe.
Holy boobs batman – did you see Scarlett Johansson’s bosom? She is gorgeous.
Natalie Portman successfully channeled Audrey Hepburn and was a vision on the red carpet.
I was really disappointed that neither Michelle Williams nor Heath Ledger won in their categories for Brokeback Mountain. They were my favorite couple of the night, by far. Oh well, I think Michelle still has a chance for an Oscar, but the critical favorite Philip Seymour Hoffman will certainly trump Ledger again come March.
The most random shot of the night had to be Melanie Griffith and Heath Ledger talking during a commercial break, what in the world could those two have had to say to one another?
Was Ryan Philippe being a sweet adoring husband last night, or did he have ulterior motives for being in every single camera shot of Reese Witherspoon (not to mention jumping out of his seat when she was announced the winner, pushing her forcefully towards the stage) and wildly gesturing to Joaquin Phoenix about winning a bet on his way up to accept his award? Or am I just a cynical bitch? Yea, that’s probably it. I didn’t like Reese’s dress, looked like a Barbie outfit. Major fug.
Steve Carell’s speech was so hilarious, I can’t imagine what it must be like to be married to that man. I was so happy Sandra Oh won for Grey’s Anatomy, totally deserved. I cannot tell enough people about how wonderful that show is.
All in all, the Golden Globes were pretty entertaining, and I really didn’t get bored until the Cecil B. Demile award for Anthony Hopkins. Definitely the most entertaining award show of the season, it’s all downhill from here!
Joan was just as bad, my favorite moment was when she was talking to Emma Thompson, who had brought with her Colin Firth as her date. She had no idea that it was Colin Firth, and started talking to him like he was Emma Thompson’s husband. It was quite hilarious, and I don’t remember what he said, but it was along the lines of, “Oh, no Joan, I’m not her husband, I’m Colin Firth!” Hilarious.
Oh, and what is with Jonathan Rhys Meyers, that guy’s got a major stick up his ass. He was visibly annoyed to be talking with Joan Rivers, which I guess is understandable, but dude, lighten up! He seems like quite the self-involved prick if you ask me. That’s what being in a Woody Allen film will do to you, I guess.
George Clooney looked dreamy. Mmmmm…
Honorable mention goes to Patrick Dempsey – love that beautiful man.
The majority of the Desperate Housewives are really aggravating these days (still love Felicity Huffman, but Teri Hatcher certainly pisses me off the most), so I was glad to see that Mary Louise-Parker won the Golden Globe.
Holy boobs batman – did you see Scarlett Johansson’s bosom? She is gorgeous.
Natalie Portman successfully channeled Audrey Hepburn and was a vision on the red carpet.
I was really disappointed that neither Michelle Williams nor Heath Ledger won in their categories for Brokeback Mountain. They were my favorite couple of the night, by far. Oh well, I think Michelle still has a chance for an Oscar, but the critical favorite Philip Seymour Hoffman will certainly trump Ledger again come March.
The most random shot of the night had to be Melanie Griffith and Heath Ledger talking during a commercial break, what in the world could those two have had to say to one another?
Was Ryan Philippe being a sweet adoring husband last night, or did he have ulterior motives for being in every single camera shot of Reese Witherspoon (not to mention jumping out of his seat when she was announced the winner, pushing her forcefully towards the stage) and wildly gesturing to Joaquin Phoenix about winning a bet on his way up to accept his award? Or am I just a cynical bitch? Yea, that’s probably it. I didn’t like Reese’s dress, looked like a Barbie outfit. Major fug.
Steve Carell’s speech was so hilarious, I can’t imagine what it must be like to be married to that man. I was so happy Sandra Oh won for Grey’s Anatomy, totally deserved. I cannot tell enough people about how wonderful that show is.
All in all, the Golden Globes were pretty entertaining, and I really didn’t get bored until the Cecil B. Demile award for Anthony Hopkins. Definitely the most entertaining award show of the season, it’s all downhill from here!
Monday, January 16, 2006
The Babysitters Club
Our dog does the most obnoxious thing in the morning on the weekend when she wants us to get up. First she jumps off the bed and paces around the room, clicking her nails on the hardwood floor while emitting this frenzied whine that just grates on your eardrums and makes her impossible to ignore. If that doesn’t work, she races from one side of the bed to the other, perches her front feet up on the bed, and sticks her cold nose in your face. Now, I know we could have avoided all this from the beginning if we had never allowed her to sleep on our bed, but her overwhelming cuteness just smashes our hearts into little tiny pieces and has long-ago overridden our sensibilities.
Well, Saturday morning was no different, so I finally got up after about 20 minutes of Bella’s infuriating tactics so that Dan could sleep in a little longer. I went downstairs, toasted a bagel, and snuggled on the couch. After flipping channels for a bit I realized there was nothing interesting on, so I checked out the free On Demand movies, and oh did I find a gem - a total blast from the past. The Babysitter’s Club! I had to watch it.
Watching that movie caused all these nostalgic feelings for my childhood to just come flooding back. You know, being a kid was fricken awesome. I remember just devouring those Babysitter Club books, I’d check out like 7 of them at the library and have them all read in a week. I felt like those girls were my best friends:
Well, Saturday morning was no different, so I finally got up after about 20 minutes of Bella’s infuriating tactics so that Dan could sleep in a little longer. I went downstairs, toasted a bagel, and snuggled on the couch. After flipping channels for a bit I realized there was nothing interesting on, so I checked out the free On Demand movies, and oh did I find a gem - a total blast from the past. The Babysitter’s Club! I had to watch it.
Watching that movie caused all these nostalgic feelings for my childhood to just come flooding back. You know, being a kid was fricken awesome. I remember just devouring those Babysitter Club books, I’d check out like 7 of them at the library and have them all read in a week. I felt like those girls were my best friends:
- Kristy – The president and founder of The Babysitter’s Club, Kristy was also a major tomboy. Her parents were divorced and she lived in a huge house with her mom, her ultra-rich step dad, and his two kids. I didn’t identify as much with Kristy, because I was a major girlie girl, and Kristy couldn’t care less about boys or clothes, preferring to play sports or get dirty somewhere.
- Claudia – She was the Asian artist girl, whose bedroom they used for their weekly meetings, which automatically got her the VP title. Also a major snack-food junkie, Claudia loved wearing funky clothes and crazy jewelry, and had a pretty hard time in school. She also had a grandma Mimi, cause all Asian girls have Grandma Mimi’s.
- Mary Ann – Kristy’s best friend was a super shy, super sweet, braniac, and was the only girl with a steady boyfriend, the dreamboat Logan. Ahhh… Logan. I wanted Logan to be my boyfriend! Mary Ann was kind of aggravating, she was just too shy and too sweet, letting people continually walk all over her. Whatever, I’m pretty sure she also had a cat named Tigger.
- Dawn – Dawn was my all time favorite! She had moved to Stonybrook with her mom, from California, who married Mary Ann’s dad. So the two of them were step-sisters, which I was so jealous of because I always wanted a sister. (Although that did cause some tension between Mary Ann and Kristy...oooh drama!) She was the total flower child, gorgeous long blond hair, ate lots of granola. I soooo wanted to be Dawn.
- Stacey – And if I couldn’t be Dawn, I wanted to be Stacy! Stacy was the city girl from New York, gorgeous, confident, loved shopping, hair, make-up, and boys. Unfortunately Stacey had Diabetes, which is so totally ironic because Claudia and her were best friends, and Claudia eats so much junk food! Heh. I read the Stacy-centric books as much as the Dawn-centric ones.
- Mallory – I hated Mallory, she was just a junior member, she had red frizzy hair and glasses, totally boring, totally geeky, and only like 11 years old, so a total waste of my time.
- Jessi – She was a junior member like Mallory, but definitely not as geeky. She was a cute dancer, and I think I remember some of her books involving the whole race issue, because her family was one of the only African American families in the neighborhood.
Did anyone else just skim the whole first chapter of The Babysitters Club books? I remember them all being a summary of each girl, what the Babysitter’s Club was about, and who did what (you know, like Stacy was the Treasurer). That first chapter always really pissed me off, because as a dedicated reader, I should not have had to read all that crap all over again every time I read a new book. Something tells me Ann M. Martin hated writing that first chapter as much as I hated reading it.
Well, I watched the whole movie, and it was so wonderful and sweet, and it made me want to be a kid again. When Dan came down from our bedroom, with just about 10 minutes left to go on the movie, I thought I did a fine job of hiding the fact that my eyes were a little teary, but I obviously thought wrong, because he brought it up with my parents at dinner that evening and they all had a good laugh at my expense.
So tell me, which girl was your favorite? Everyone must have a favorite! ($10 says Mallory was NO ONE’S favorite!)
Thursday, January 12, 2006
The Peanut Butter Snob
So a while back I was eating my breakfast at work when one of my co-workers stopped by my cube for a little chat. We’ll call him Peanut Butter Snob, the reasons for which will be evident very shortly. I was eating a bagel with peanut butter, and he asked me, “What kind is it?” I was quite confused about what he was talking about, so I asked for clarification, and he said, “The peanut butter, what kind of peanut butter? My wife and I only buy organic, I can’t even stomach that other stuff.” My reply?
“Um… well… I think it’s Skippy?”
Then, of course, I had to act all interested in this idea of organic peanut butter as he blathered on about it’s greatness, insisting the stuff I was eating was pure crap in the form of a spread. It was one of those times where you feel really stupid, uncultured, and decidedly un-hip. However, thinking about it now, this co-worker has a habit of making me feel this way quite often, so I’m debating now if these repeated occurances have more to do with his snobbishness or my insecurities. Here are a few accounts of our run-ins, you tell me if I’m being totally crazy, or if this guy really is a bit of a snob, (Note: PBS is short for “Peanut Butter Snob”, not the broadcasting network that has brought us delightful little children’s television gems such as “Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?” and “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood”):
Instance 1:
Setting: I’m walking out of the building on the way out to lunch with PBS and two other male co-workers.
The truth: I bought it at Target a few months before. There was no way in hell I was going to tell him that I got it at Target after he told me about his previous ultra-spendy designer purchases! I felt ridiculous. While I have no problem with designer purses, and wish with all my might I could afford to buy them, I simply cannot at this point in my life and career. To be honest I tend to spend a max of $50 on my handbags, and am a self-proclaimed knock-off queen.
Instance 2:
Setting: At lunch with the guys, again.
So basically the guy makes me feel really insecure, and I have no idea why I feel the need to impress him, but I do. On the other hand, I must say that he is the nosiest mother-f-er in my office, and why in the world is he even noticing what kind of purse I’m carrying?
Let's get back to the whole peanut butter thing. Dan and I were at Costco on Sunday doing some shopping, and I remembered that we were almost out of it (as I said a few weeks ago, I am on a major peanut butter kick and am going through that stuff like it’s water). So when I saw it, I grabbed the big ass double pack of Skippy and threw it into the cart, but then I noticed that next to it was a double pack of Maranatha Organic Peanut Butter. Thinking back on my conversation with PBS, I decided to try it. So out went the Skippy, in went the organic.
A day later, as I’m lazing around on the couch watching some TV (and for the record, there are many reasons why NOT to watch Heather Graham’s dull new Sex-and-the-City-wannabe show), I found myself itching for a little snack. I grabbed from the loaf of bread the butt end that no one wants to use for their sandwich and opened up my experimental jar of peanut butter. First thoughts? GROSS! Before I even tried it, I was grossed out. The stuff is all runny and oily and has a completely different texture from regular peanut butter. I took my first bite. Yup, tastes just as gross as it looks. Blech!
So now I have TWO monstrous jars of the nasty stuff in my cupboard, that I know I will never touch again, and I feel like a traitor to Skippy, the most delectable, creamy, yummy, processed-to-all-hell treat ever. And it’s all PBS’s fault, and admittedly a little bit mine for trying to be someone I’m not, and feeling the need to live up to the standards set by an equal co-worker who probably doesn’t even remember our conversation about organic peanut butter many months ago.
“Um… well… I think it’s Skippy?”
Then, of course, I had to act all interested in this idea of organic peanut butter as he blathered on about it’s greatness, insisting the stuff I was eating was pure crap in the form of a spread. It was one of those times where you feel really stupid, uncultured, and decidedly un-hip. However, thinking about it now, this co-worker has a habit of making me feel this way quite often, so I’m debating now if these repeated occurances have more to do with his snobbishness or my insecurities. Here are a few accounts of our run-ins, you tell me if I’m being totally crazy, or if this guy really is a bit of a snob, (Note: PBS is short for “Peanut Butter Snob”, not the broadcasting network that has brought us delightful little children’s television gems such as “Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?” and “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood”):
Instance 1:
Setting: I’m walking out of the building on the way out to lunch with PBS and two other male co-workers.
PBS: I like your purse!
Me: Uhhh… thanks.
PBS: Where did you get it? It’s so unique! I like to buy my wife one purse a year as a gift, and I’m always looking for new ones. Usually I get something from Saks, like a Coach, or a Kate Spade.
Me: (stammering and fumbling) Uhhh… I… uhhh…
PBS: So where did you get it? I think she’d really like it.
Me: Um, actually I don’t remember, I’ve had it forever!
The truth: I bought it at Target a few months before. There was no way in hell I was going to tell him that I got it at Target after he told me about his previous ultra-spendy designer purchases! I felt ridiculous. While I have no problem with designer purses, and wish with all my might I could afford to buy them, I simply cannot at this point in my life and career. To be honest I tend to spend a max of $50 on my handbags, and am a self-proclaimed knock-off queen.
Instance 2:
Setting: At lunch with the guys, again.
PBS: So what did you do this weekend?
Me: Well, we went to dinner with my parents on Friday night because both of my brothers are home from college for the weekend…
PBS: That sounds nice, so where’d you all go?
Me: Umm, Chili’s.
PBS: Oh. Well… that’s nice.
Me: (feeling embarrased and as unsophisticated as you can get) Yea, that’s just my family’s restaurant, we always end up going there…
PBS: Oh, yea, no Chili’s is pretty good. My wife and I went to
W.A. Frost for dinner Saturday night…
So basically the guy makes me feel really insecure, and I have no idea why I feel the need to impress him, but I do. On the other hand, I must say that he is the nosiest mother-f-er in my office, and why in the world is he even noticing what kind of purse I’m carrying?
Let's get back to the whole peanut butter thing. Dan and I were at Costco on Sunday doing some shopping, and I remembered that we were almost out of it (as I said a few weeks ago, I am on a major peanut butter kick and am going through that stuff like it’s water). So when I saw it, I grabbed the big ass double pack of Skippy and threw it into the cart, but then I noticed that next to it was a double pack of Maranatha Organic Peanut Butter. Thinking back on my conversation with PBS, I decided to try it. So out went the Skippy, in went the organic.
A day later, as I’m lazing around on the couch watching some TV (and for the record, there are many reasons why NOT to watch Heather Graham’s dull new Sex-and-the-City-wannabe show), I found myself itching for a little snack. I grabbed from the loaf of bread the butt end that no one wants to use for their sandwich and opened up my experimental jar of peanut butter. First thoughts? GROSS! Before I even tried it, I was grossed out. The stuff is all runny and oily and has a completely different texture from regular peanut butter. I took my first bite. Yup, tastes just as gross as it looks. Blech!
So now I have TWO monstrous jars of the nasty stuff in my cupboard, that I know I will never touch again, and I feel like a traitor to Skippy, the most delectable, creamy, yummy, processed-to-all-hell treat ever. And it’s all PBS’s fault, and admittedly a little bit mine for trying to be someone I’m not, and feeling the need to live up to the standards set by an equal co-worker who probably doesn’t even remember our conversation about organic peanut butter many months ago.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Holiday: Part 2
Monday, December 26th, officially set off my week-o-laziness. Here's the second half of the recount of my vacation adventures. We’ll do this one bulleted style, because I can’t be bothered nor do I want to bore you with chronology:
- I saw a few movies over the week. First there was The Family Stone, which I saw a matinee of with Dan and my brother Nathan and which I loved loved loved. God I loved that movie. “It” girl Rachel McAdams is hysterical and beautiful, Luke Wilson is the dreamiest slacker-pothead ever, Diane Keaton is always amazing and gorgeous, but most surprising was how much I fell in love with Craig T. Nelson, his performance as the voice-of-reason father was so tender and heartbreaking, it totally came out of left field for me. I also saw Pride and Prejudice with my mom the other night at the $3 theatre nearby, and I was and still am thoroughly smitten with the dashing Mr. Darcy. I’m thinking Matthew MacFayden kicked some major Colin Firth ass with his performance. I would highly recommend this version, and Kiera Knightly was also the perfect Elizabeth Bennett. (I have to throw that in there, even though Pride and Prejudice is so all about Mr. Darcy as far as I’m concerned.)
- My brother Ben brought his girlfriend home to meet the family for a few days. She is very tiny, super cute, quite shy, and just an over-all sweet girl. I think my family intimidated her a little bit at the beginning, as I’m assuming conversations with her parents don’t usually involve blow-jobs and peanut butter, and I’m quite certain her mom doesn’t have uncontrollable bouts of flatulence and subsequent giggle fits at the dinner table, but I’m thinking she was warming up to us by the end of her three-day stay.
- I went to the Mall of America three fricken times over the course of a week, which is really quite ridiculous. I never go to the Mall of America, it’s huge, exhausting, overwhelming, and of course always packed with annoying teenage shoppers and tourists alike. However, for many reasons that are too dull to recount, I went there three times this week. Thankfully, I didn’t spend very much money, my purchases just included a knee-length jean skirt on sale at the GAP, and a pair of cropped black trousers, two long-sleeve v-neck knit tops, and a funky gold belt all from NY&Co. It really was nice, though, to do so much shopping this week that did not involve Christmas presents. I am so glad that is all over, and the countless items on my countless lists are not only all crossed off, but the lists themselves are in the trash.
- I went skiing on Thursday with some friends, and it felt so good to be back on skis after about two years away from them, even if it was on just a stupid hill in Minnesota.
I also bought some super cute new ski pants for the occasion and for the first time in many, many years, did not feel like a big pile of ugliness on the slopes. The family is planning a ski trip to Colorado next January and I can’t wait. Lisa skied for the first time since our 6th grade field trip to Welch Village when my mom (obviously the chaperone from hell) took her down a black-diamond run and forever scarred her. Lisa is awesome. - I only worked out twice during my 10 days of vacation. I’m a bum. Surprisingly, I didn’t and still don’t feel that guilty about it, even though I was replacing my work-outs with extra sleep and lunch dates. Ha.
- Angela bought me the Season 6 DVD collection of Buffy, and Ben bought me Season 10 of Friends, so I only need Buffy Seasons 2-5 and 7 and Friends Seasons 1-4 and 6-9, and I’ll have both sets! ;) Click here if you’d like to help me complete my collections.
- New Years Eve was actually totally fun this year, which is surprising, because I usually find it to be one of the biggest let-downs of the year.
Dan’s brother and his wife had their annual party, and I got quite a bit trashed on Margaritas. Yummm… We played some Celebrity Taboo, because we always have to play board games, and of course Dan and I got into a little tussle. Betsy was totally right when she said we shouldn’t have been sitting next to each other. How about I lay out the scenario and you tell me who’s right and who’s wrong here: I am trying to get my team to guess Sean Astin, the dude from Rudy, Goonies, and most recently Lord of the Rings. 
If I remember correctly, they were on to his first name, they totally knew who I was talking about, and to get them to spit it out I said… “His last name is like the city in Texas!” So my team members are like, “Sean Astin!” but they pronounced it with an Aaahh, like the city Austin. Ok, so not only is that how I honestly thought you said his name, but my team member who guessed (I think it was Angela) was, without a doubt, talking about the same person. 
So I hurriedly moved on to the next card, which caused uproar from Dan, who was the one sitting next to me with the buzzer. According to him (and his friend Ed who is the most competitive asshole when it comes to stupid board games) the name is pronounced “ass-tin”. Whatever, in my opinion that small pronunciation discrepancy should have been completely irrelevant, but instead we wasted precious time fighting about it during my turn. The tone of the game changed from there on out, and I desperately wanted to give both Dan and Ed a swift kick in the head. ;) Anyways, so portions of the rest of the night are a little hazy (I do specifically remember, however, dropping my new digital camera into my champagne glass) but all-in-all it was a great time, and I woke up hangover free the next morning! - Dan woke up New Years day feeling like utter crap, and has been battling a horrible debilitating cold ever since, poor guy. I just hate when he’s sick, because I feel so helpless. I’ve been sleeping in the guest bedroom to try to avoid getting sick myself, so this week has, on the whole, been pretty sucky when you top it all off with having to return to work. I can’t wait for the weekend.
A few random pictures from my busy Christmas weekend
First, we have the in-law's living room, jam-packed full of presents.
Bella's first Christmas was both exciting and a bit confusing for her. She had fun harassing the kids while they opened presents.
Dan, playing pong with his little brother
Precious
Christmas Eve Brunch
My brothers and I at my Aunt's Christmas Eve
Laughter
My little brother-in-law is obviously really into tools this year!
Bella and I on Christmas day at my parents.
The boys, watching football, of course, on Christmas. This was right around the time I was in my bitchy mood.
Bella's first Christmas was both exciting and a bit confusing for her. She had fun harassing the kids while they opened presents.
Dan, playing pong with his little brother
Precious
Christmas Eve Brunch
My brothers and I at my Aunt's Christmas Eve
Laughter
My little brother-in-law is obviously really into tools this year!
Bella and I on Christmas day at my parents.
The boys, watching football, of course, on Christmas. This was right around the time I was in my bitchy mood.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Holiday: Part 1
Wow, it’s been a crazy couple weeks, very busy, but very wonderful! Because of my office’s work schedule (9 hour work days, every other Friday off) and our paid holidays, I was able to take just three days of PTO and have a full ten consecutive days of vacation over the holidays. I’ll tell you this much, it was ridiculously easy to get used to not going to work. So what did I do over those ten days? Let’s see if I can remember. I think I will have to make this a two-parter, or even a three-parter. We’ll see where it goes.
The weekend of Christmas was insane, running from gathering to gathering, from one family’s house to the other family’s house. It all started Friday night, December 23rd, at my in-laws’, in which the living room was so packed with presents that you had to do crazy maneuvers and painful leg contortions to get from one end of the room to another. It was a great night, and I just love seeing the joy in the little kid’s faces while opening their gifts. I know the holiday is about Jesus and everything, but seriously, those smiling little red faces, the cries of elation, the abundant thank-you hugs all around, that is the stuff I remember when the holidays are all over. They’re just so sweet and thankful, and watching it all unfold I can’t help but think that these are memories in the making, these are the moments they will think back on with fondness ten or twenty years down the road. All sappiness aside though, it was a good night, and even little Bella got a tasty treat and a new toy from Dan’s brother and sister-in-law.
On Christmas Eve morning we headed over to my parent’s house for brunch with my Dad and my two brothers. Ben made his famous omelets to our specifications (mine was a little lighter on the cheese that I would have liked, but I suppose that’s probably a good thing for my thighs), and it was a nice and relaxing morning. We headed over to my aunt’s house in the early afternoon and spent the day there, eating spinach dip, drinking red wine, watching my favorite Christmas movie ever, and just generally enjoying the company of family. (Gossip of the night: “Did you see *Annie’s face… what do you think that is all around her mouth and chin? Herpes? Well, she did have Chlamydia at one point, so it’s highly possible.”)
Promptly at 5:30, it was off to Dan’s grandparents’ for round three of the Christmas holiday (round four, I suppose, if you count brunch). Soon after arriving, we dug into plates piled high with Swedish meatballs, scalloped corn, mashed potatoes, and seven-layer salad, Dan’s family’s Christmas Eve traditional dinner. The kids were going absolutely crazy after dinner, their eyes glistening with greed, their bodies unable to control the present-induced excitement in the air, their brains all hopped up on the sugar grandma had abundantly planted all over the house in the form of gingerbread cookies, sherbet punch, and chocolate candies. I opened up the coat we had bought in Chicago and of course had a very hard time acting surprised. Around 9:00 PM we left and went back to my Aunt’s place, opened a few presents (Dan and I got $200 from my grandparents to buy curtains for our dining room… yeah!), and had a drink and talked and laughed until we had to leave for 11:00 mass. I was so exhausted by the time we were sitting in church, all I could think about was getting home, taking off the damn tights I was wearing, and getting into bed.
Christmas day started bright and early when we headed over to Dan’s parents house at 8:00 AM for Santa. I find it incredibly sweet that Dan is so committed to being a part of his little brothers’ and sisters’ lives. When asked why we even bother, he said, “I just want them to be able to remember us being around for stuff like this.” There’s such a huge gap in ages there, so huge that Dan was already moved out before the two littlest ones were born, and it’s really a testament to the person he is that he wants to be around as much as possible as they grow-up. After more present-craziness, we went home, made some eggs, and then opened our gifts from each other. I’ve had my digital camera since the beginning of December, but Santa also brought me some fuzzy slippers, a cute pink nighty, some new flannel pajamas, and a pair of mittens. I was pretty stoked, and felt very spoiled. Dan, he got a whole crapload of really random and some-what boring stuff from me: a North Face vest, a corduroy blazer, a wrinkle-free button-up shirt, a pair of Birkenstock clogs, a maroon U of M sweatshirt, a couple DVD’s, a tie-clip, pajama pants, and an under-shirt. Wow, really random indeed.
That afternoon we went to my parents’ and opened presents among our immediate family, which is always one of my favorite things about Christmas. I love when it is just the six of us, I love seeing what everyone gets, I love the joking and the jabbing and the laughing that goes on. But our time was cut short because we had to get organized for more family that was coming over for dinner. By this time, I was thoroughly tired of all things Christmas, I would have given my right arm for just a quiet night at home, or an early evening movie, but that was not to be. We had a big ham dinner, after which I fell asleep on the couch watching the Brandy as Cinderella movie and woke up to my grandmother insisting we play a game of cards with my Vietnamese foster uncle’s new wife whose grasp of the English language is at a very “beginning” level. I tried to be a good sport but I know I was getting very whiny and a little snippy. I feel terrible about it now, and the fact that I cannot even keep up with my grandma, who is not only old, but is courageously fighting cancer, is really just incredibly sad.
It was a great weekend, but I was so happy that it was over, and that I still had eight days left of my vacation.
*Name changed to protect the - very sexually active – innocent (my mom’s cousin).
The weekend of Christmas was insane, running from gathering to gathering, from one family’s house to the other family’s house. It all started Friday night, December 23rd, at my in-laws’, in which the living room was so packed with presents that you had to do crazy maneuvers and painful leg contortions to get from one end of the room to another. It was a great night, and I just love seeing the joy in the little kid’s faces while opening their gifts. I know the holiday is about Jesus and everything, but seriously, those smiling little red faces, the cries of elation, the abundant thank-you hugs all around, that is the stuff I remember when the holidays are all over. They’re just so sweet and thankful, and watching it all unfold I can’t help but think that these are memories in the making, these are the moments they will think back on with fondness ten or twenty years down the road. All sappiness aside though, it was a good night, and even little Bella got a tasty treat and a new toy from Dan’s brother and sister-in-law.
On Christmas Eve morning we headed over to my parent’s house for brunch with my Dad and my two brothers. Ben made his famous omelets to our specifications (mine was a little lighter on the cheese that I would have liked, but I suppose that’s probably a good thing for my thighs), and it was a nice and relaxing morning. We headed over to my aunt’s house in the early afternoon and spent the day there, eating spinach dip, drinking red wine, watching my favorite Christmas movie ever, and just generally enjoying the company of family. (Gossip of the night: “Did you see *Annie’s face… what do you think that is all around her mouth and chin? Herpes? Well, she did have Chlamydia at one point, so it’s highly possible.”)
Promptly at 5:30, it was off to Dan’s grandparents’ for round three of the Christmas holiday (round four, I suppose, if you count brunch). Soon after arriving, we dug into plates piled high with Swedish meatballs, scalloped corn, mashed potatoes, and seven-layer salad, Dan’s family’s Christmas Eve traditional dinner. The kids were going absolutely crazy after dinner, their eyes glistening with greed, their bodies unable to control the present-induced excitement in the air, their brains all hopped up on the sugar grandma had abundantly planted all over the house in the form of gingerbread cookies, sherbet punch, and chocolate candies. I opened up the coat we had bought in Chicago and of course had a very hard time acting surprised. Around 9:00 PM we left and went back to my Aunt’s place, opened a few presents (Dan and I got $200 from my grandparents to buy curtains for our dining room… yeah!), and had a drink and talked and laughed until we had to leave for 11:00 mass. I was so exhausted by the time we were sitting in church, all I could think about was getting home, taking off the damn tights I was wearing, and getting into bed.
Christmas day started bright and early when we headed over to Dan’s parents house at 8:00 AM for Santa. I find it incredibly sweet that Dan is so committed to being a part of his little brothers’ and sisters’ lives. When asked why we even bother, he said, “I just want them to be able to remember us being around for stuff like this.” There’s such a huge gap in ages there, so huge that Dan was already moved out before the two littlest ones were born, and it’s really a testament to the person he is that he wants to be around as much as possible as they grow-up. After more present-craziness, we went home, made some eggs, and then opened our gifts from each other. I’ve had my digital camera since the beginning of December, but Santa also brought me some fuzzy slippers, a cute pink nighty, some new flannel pajamas, and a pair of mittens. I was pretty stoked, and felt very spoiled. Dan, he got a whole crapload of really random and some-what boring stuff from me: a North Face vest, a corduroy blazer, a wrinkle-free button-up shirt, a pair of Birkenstock clogs, a maroon U of M sweatshirt, a couple DVD’s, a tie-clip, pajama pants, and an under-shirt. Wow, really random indeed.
That afternoon we went to my parents’ and opened presents among our immediate family, which is always one of my favorite things about Christmas. I love when it is just the six of us, I love seeing what everyone gets, I love the joking and the jabbing and the laughing that goes on. But our time was cut short because we had to get organized for more family that was coming over for dinner. By this time, I was thoroughly tired of all things Christmas, I would have given my right arm for just a quiet night at home, or an early evening movie, but that was not to be. We had a big ham dinner, after which I fell asleep on the couch watching the Brandy as Cinderella movie and woke up to my grandmother insisting we play a game of cards with my Vietnamese foster uncle’s new wife whose grasp of the English language is at a very “beginning” level. I tried to be a good sport but I know I was getting very whiny and a little snippy. I feel terrible about it now, and the fact that I cannot even keep up with my grandma, who is not only old, but is courageously fighting cancer, is really just incredibly sad.
It was a great weekend, but I was so happy that it was over, and that I still had eight days left of my vacation.
*Name changed to protect the - very sexually active – innocent (my mom’s cousin).
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