Sunday, March 28, 2004
I'm about to be sucked in just one last time
I quit two years ago, and said I'd never go back. Never say never, my friends.
I was so sick of getting their mailings every three weeks, and I was so sick of having to respond and waste a stamp each time. Then when I forgot about them, I'd receive a random selection in the mail a month later that I would just end up writing "return to sender" on and dropping it back in the mailbox. I called them up and said "no more." Then when they'd call every few months begging for me to come back, my parents would tell them I moved away.
But I'm coming back, BMG, though I'm not all that happy about it.
As most of you already know, or have at least gleaned (is that a word?) from this blog, I'm lacking intelligence, responsibility, reason - a brain, really. When I came back from France, I jumped right back into school and work. I was pretty overwhelmed for the duration of the semester. So it wasn't until Winter break that I noticed that the collection of all my favorite CD's that I took to France was missing. Yes, I was really too lazy or busy to put forth time and effort to look for my CD case. I just listened to the radio during the commute.
So over the break, I started the search. I looked everywhere, but with no success. It was only after much thought that I determined that I must have left it on Air France flight 69 (no, I'm not making that up). About halfway into my stay over there, I realized there was no way I was going to be able to fit all the sh** I bought into the bags I brought with me. So the weekend I went back to the south of France, I bought a very cool pink woven bag in one of the small, Mediterranean beach towns called Cassis. I loved that bag. It only had one slight drawback - it doesn't close at the top. So I determined that the CD case must have fallen out when it was stuffed under the seat in front of me on the flight home and I didn't notice. Now, there are many reasons why I hate myself, but this act of carelessness is a big one. Not only were all my DMB studio cd's in it, but also a burned copy of my first concert that I can no longer get because the guy that gave it to me, I no longer speak to. It had all my favorite soundtracks, my favorite groups. And I can't believe what a fu**ing idiot I am for losing it.
So here I am again, BMG. I'm ready to make my first seven selections for .01 cent.
I was so sick of getting their mailings every three weeks, and I was so sick of having to respond and waste a stamp each time. Then when I forgot about them, I'd receive a random selection in the mail a month later that I would just end up writing "return to sender" on and dropping it back in the mailbox. I called them up and said "no more." Then when they'd call every few months begging for me to come back, my parents would tell them I moved away.
But I'm coming back, BMG, though I'm not all that happy about it.
As most of you already know, or have at least gleaned (is that a word?) from this blog, I'm lacking intelligence, responsibility, reason - a brain, really. When I came back from France, I jumped right back into school and work. I was pretty overwhelmed for the duration of the semester. So it wasn't until Winter break that I noticed that the collection of all my favorite CD's that I took to France was missing. Yes, I was really too lazy or busy to put forth time and effort to look for my CD case. I just listened to the radio during the commute.
So over the break, I started the search. I looked everywhere, but with no success. It was only after much thought that I determined that I must have left it on Air France flight 69 (no, I'm not making that up). About halfway into my stay over there, I realized there was no way I was going to be able to fit all the sh** I bought into the bags I brought with me. So the weekend I went back to the south of France, I bought a very cool pink woven bag in one of the small, Mediterranean beach towns called Cassis. I loved that bag. It only had one slight drawback - it doesn't close at the top. So I determined that the CD case must have fallen out when it was stuffed under the seat in front of me on the flight home and I didn't notice. Now, there are many reasons why I hate myself, but this act of carelessness is a big one. Not only were all my DMB studio cd's in it, but also a burned copy of my first concert that I can no longer get because the guy that gave it to me, I no longer speak to. It had all my favorite soundtracks, my favorite groups. And I can't believe what a fu**ing idiot I am for losing it.
So here I am again, BMG. I'm ready to make my first seven selections for .01 cent.
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
My hell is near
Folks,
My least favorite day of the year is coming.
It's not tax day. Nor (believe it or not) Valentine's Day (my 2nd least favorite). It's not the first day of the school year. It's not the day that makes me older and that many forget (yes, that's a guilt trip). It's not the first day of swimsuit season, or the anniversary of anyone's death.
My friends, the worst day of the year for me is Daylight Savings.
Now, don't get me wrong. I loooooove it being lighter for longer in the evening. That part is good. It's the whole, spring forward concept I'm not down with. Because springing forward means, LOSING an hour of sleep. And well, I'm not too keen with losing anymore sleep time. It's sucks donkey ba**s getting up at 5am each day. This morning in bed I could barely move when the cell phone alarm started chiming a polyphonic Red, Red Wine. So knowing that the time change is a comin' is just killing me. My only solice is having the ability to nap at 3pm on Mon, Wed and Fri. To think how tortuous (sp?) it was having to take naps in pre-school - not being tired and wanting to spend the entire afternoon on the jungle gym. Now naptime is my reason for living.
My least favorite day of the year is coming.
It's not tax day. Nor (believe it or not) Valentine's Day (my 2nd least favorite). It's not the first day of the school year. It's not the day that makes me older and that many forget (yes, that's a guilt trip). It's not the first day of swimsuit season, or the anniversary of anyone's death.
My friends, the worst day of the year for me is Daylight Savings.
Now, don't get me wrong. I loooooove it being lighter for longer in the evening. That part is good. It's the whole, spring forward concept I'm not down with. Because springing forward means, LOSING an hour of sleep. And well, I'm not too keen with losing anymore sleep time. It's sucks donkey ba**s getting up at 5am each day. This morning in bed I could barely move when the cell phone alarm started chiming a polyphonic Red, Red Wine. So knowing that the time change is a comin' is just killing me. My only solice is having the ability to nap at 3pm on Mon, Wed and Fri. To think how tortuous (sp?) it was having to take naps in pre-school - not being tired and wanting to spend the entire afternoon on the jungle gym. Now naptime is my reason for living.
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
Shoulda taken the Calms Forte
The schedule's been wearing me out. Usually before I go to bed on Monday nights, I pop me three CF's in order to ensure a good night's rest, since Tuesday is the day I work all day and go to school all night. But last night when I was in bed I was pretty freakin tired. Too tired even to get up and get myself a glass of water to take my CF pills. So I figured, eh, I'm exhausted anyway, I'm sure I'll sleep the night.
Well, last night I had a dream that my cousin Courtney opened a trust account at Morgan Stanley, and we took a polaroid picture of her and my aunt to display on our wall, then treated her to a Western Bacon Cheeseburger combo at Carl's Jr. I remember waking up right after that and not being able to go back to sleep for awhile.
Then finally I start to get sleepy again and I start to hear this mysterious buzzing sound. I know it wasn't my cell on vibrate and it wasn't the fan blowing stuff. But I couldn't figure out what the f*** it was. By this time I'm enraged because this f***ing noise is keeping my ass up and I only have an hour and a half left before the clock strike 5am. Then I listen reeeeally close and think it's coming from behind my Yankees poster. I determine it is and rip that mother f***er off my door. Out flies a liberated moth.
It was probably time for the poster to go anyway. Darryl Strawberry and Cecil Fielder don't even play on the team anymore.
Well, last night I had a dream that my cousin Courtney opened a trust account at Morgan Stanley, and we took a polaroid picture of her and my aunt to display on our wall, then treated her to a Western Bacon Cheeseburger combo at Carl's Jr. I remember waking up right after that and not being able to go back to sleep for awhile.
Then finally I start to get sleepy again and I start to hear this mysterious buzzing sound. I know it wasn't my cell on vibrate and it wasn't the fan blowing stuff. But I couldn't figure out what the f*** it was. By this time I'm enraged because this f***ing noise is keeping my ass up and I only have an hour and a half left before the clock strike 5am. Then I listen reeeeally close and think it's coming from behind my Yankees poster. I determine it is and rip that mother f***er off my door. Out flies a liberated moth.
It was probably time for the poster to go anyway. Darryl Strawberry and Cecil Fielder don't even play on the team anymore.
Sunday, March 21, 2004
Is it just me, or are the Girl Scouts ripping us off?
C'mon now, 4 bucks for a box a cookies???
It's all about supply and demand, right?
I say we follow in the footsteps of those people who say we should boycott the big gasoline companies in order to drive the prices down. When those pouty little faces with green and brown outfits come running up to you at Ralph's begging you to support their cause by forking over four bucks for a box of cookies that are only gonna make your thighs rub together, I say you look that little rugrat in the eye and tell her you refuse to contribute to corporate greed.
I bet they can't even offer you a low-carb alternative.
If we band together, we can make this happen. Then next year, when those little future soccer moms realize that we're not as stupid as they think, they'll lower the prices back down to a more reasonable $2.50.
Who am I kidding? I laid down four for a box. Nobody makes Samoas like the Girl Scouts of America.
It's all about supply and demand, right?
I say we follow in the footsteps of those people who say we should boycott the big gasoline companies in order to drive the prices down. When those pouty little faces with green and brown outfits come running up to you at Ralph's begging you to support their cause by forking over four bucks for a box of cookies that are only gonna make your thighs rub together, I say you look that little rugrat in the eye and tell her you refuse to contribute to corporate greed.
I bet they can't even offer you a low-carb alternative.
If we band together, we can make this happen. Then next year, when those little future soccer moms realize that we're not as stupid as they think, they'll lower the prices back down to a more reasonable $2.50.
Who am I kidding? I laid down four for a box. Nobody makes Samoas like the Girl Scouts of America.
Too close for comfort
There are several reasons why I am desperate to move out of my parents house. I decided to wait until summer to do so because I want to get a little bit of dough in the savings account before I move out. And well, when I do I'm gonna be pretty freakin poor. So I'm enjoying my paychecks now while I can.
But one of the main reasons (other than privacy and independance issues) is my sheer stupidity. You see, the other night I was distracted by something and mistakenly left this here blog in full view on the computer screen. I had completely forgot I did, and when my dad came in to do his Bible study, he would have had to log off my name and on to his, thus seeing what was displayed on my screen first.
Now, when I first threw this thing up, it had our last name, Grauer, in the description line. So I'm really glad I changed that because, if he happened to glance at the page long enough he probably would have noticed and with his curiosity peaked, read more. So I was relieved about that until I remembered there's link to Cousin Stacey up there which he might have easily noticed and known the page belonged to me.
But so far fortunately, he hasn't mentioned anything. And I'm pretty sure he would have, because the last time he discovered that I'm not that innocent(ironically, he found a picture of me at a Halloween party as Britney Spears ala "Hit Me One More Time" with my bra hanging out and a guy pretending to feel me up) he shouted his disgust from the rooftops. So I think I'm in the clear for now because there hasn't been any screaming.
But I don't think I could have forgiven myself if my dad had read all my entries and found out all the heinous, obnoxious, perverted things about me and suddenly died of a coronary. So I should probably push up that move out date, just so I don't have to worry about my stupidity and carelessness as much anymore, and thus, prevent my parents from suffering an early death.
But one of the main reasons (other than privacy and independance issues) is my sheer stupidity. You see, the other night I was distracted by something and mistakenly left this here blog in full view on the computer screen. I had completely forgot I did, and when my dad came in to do his Bible study, he would have had to log off my name and on to his, thus seeing what was displayed on my screen first.
Now, when I first threw this thing up, it had our last name, Grauer, in the description line. So I'm really glad I changed that because, if he happened to glance at the page long enough he probably would have noticed and with his curiosity peaked, read more. So I was relieved about that until I remembered there's link to Cousin Stacey up there which he might have easily noticed and known the page belonged to me.
But so far fortunately, he hasn't mentioned anything. And I'm pretty sure he would have, because the last time he discovered that I'm not that innocent(ironically, he found a picture of me at a Halloween party as Britney Spears ala "Hit Me One More Time" with my bra hanging out and a guy pretending to feel me up) he shouted his disgust from the rooftops. So I think I'm in the clear for now because there hasn't been any screaming.
But I don't think I could have forgiven myself if my dad had read all my entries and found out all the heinous, obnoxious, perverted things about me and suddenly died of a coronary. So I should probably push up that move out date, just so I don't have to worry about my stupidity and carelessness as much anymore, and thus, prevent my parents from suffering an early death.
Thursday, March 18, 2004
Temptation
I have the same teacher for two my classes. His name is Najib and he is from Morocco. He's a really cool guy, and really friendly and welcoming. There's only 7 of us in my French Civilization class, and so we're pretty close and have a lot of free discussion. Tonight Najib brought in video and pictures of the time he met the prince of Morocco, his house in Rabat and his house in Toronto. Before he'd talk about how he's spending the summer in Morocco, and that if any of us wanted to go we'd have a place to stay and were more than welcome.
Well tonight he made the same offer for the place in Toronto. That's in Canada. Where many lacrosse players live. More specifically, Canadian Professional Lacrosse Players.
Now, I've always wanted to go to eastern Canada, long before this past winter. I heard Toronto and Montreal are awesome places, and I'd love to visit them and par-lay a little fran-cais. In fact, my friend Galina and I had both mentioned wanting to plan a trip there. (Right, Galina?) And now, I'd more than likely have a free place to stay (provided the offer still stands this summer). Plus, it's very close to my old roomate Lydia from my program in Paris last summer, whom I miss very very much. Toronto just happens to be 45 minutes from the guy that I've been obsessed with the past two and a half months.
So to justify this to you all, I have plenty of reasons other than the CPLP to go to Canada this summer. And while I may not completely be over him right now (obviously), I've come a long way in the past couple of weeks, and will be completely infatuated with someone else come this summer.
Well tonight he made the same offer for the place in Toronto. That's in Canada. Where many lacrosse players live. More specifically, Canadian Professional Lacrosse Players.
Now, I've always wanted to go to eastern Canada, long before this past winter. I heard Toronto and Montreal are awesome places, and I'd love to visit them and par-lay a little fran-cais. In fact, my friend Galina and I had both mentioned wanting to plan a trip there. (Right, Galina?) And now, I'd more than likely have a free place to stay (provided the offer still stands this summer). Plus, it's very close to my old roomate Lydia from my program in Paris last summer, whom I miss very very much. Toronto just happens to be 45 minutes from the guy that I've been obsessed with the past two and a half months.
So to justify this to you all, I have plenty of reasons other than the CPLP to go to Canada this summer. And while I may not completely be over him right now (obviously), I've come a long way in the past couple of weeks, and will be completely infatuated with someone else come this summer.
It's the little things that amuse me
In my last post I ranted about the FCC and how I'm getting bummed out by my morning radio instead of laughing. Well my friends, this morning I was laughing out loud once again.
I don't think I've shared this opinion with a lot of people, but I think that Ryan Seacrest (read: Cheesecrest or also, MEcrest - because it's all about him) is the biggest F***in dork on the planet. He is such a f***ing cheeseball. He's at the top of my list of people who annoy me (including but not limited to: Bennifer, Mariah Carey, Joan Rivers, the women of the View, Barbra Streisand, Rosie O'Donnell, Fred Durst, Nick and Jessica, the ass-kissers in my classes, Oj Simpson, etc etc). He sat a few rows ahead of us at a Dave Matthews Band concert in LA a few years back, and I swear it looked like he had more make-up on than what I wore my entire sophomore year. It looked like someone sculpted him out of wax, subtly highlighted his hair and adorned him with puka shells and a suede jacket. What a tool. Anyway, he annoys me is the point.
Now I never caught on to this whole American Idol phenomenon. I remember watching the first season of Popstars (which by the way, what the f*** ever happened to them??) but never got into the whole American Idol thing. Well, apparently he's adopted this sign-off where he says, "Seacrest, out." Dude. Cheese and a half. Well, Howard and the gang just about move me to tears when they make fun of this. I know to most people it's probably not that funny, but I damn near piss my pants when Howard goes, "Stern, IN?" I guess it's because I can't stand the guy that I find it far more hilarious than most. But the thing to take away from this is, I'm laughing again in the morning. And as Michelle suggested, I should make the switch to Kevin and Bean. Well, I used to listen to them regularly but now only on Howards commericals. I have to give them credit for Cheesecrest and MEcrest, because it was on their show that I first heard it. I know they hate them the Joan Rivers, and who knows, if they can keep the making fun of Seacrest level high enough, I just might have to make the switch back.
I don't think I've shared this opinion with a lot of people, but I think that Ryan Seacrest (read: Cheesecrest or also, MEcrest - because it's all about him) is the biggest F***in dork on the planet. He is such a f***ing cheeseball. He's at the top of my list of people who annoy me (including but not limited to: Bennifer, Mariah Carey, Joan Rivers, the women of the View, Barbra Streisand, Rosie O'Donnell, Fred Durst, Nick and Jessica, the ass-kissers in my classes, Oj Simpson, etc etc). He sat a few rows ahead of us at a Dave Matthews Band concert in LA a few years back, and I swear it looked like he had more make-up on than what I wore my entire sophomore year. It looked like someone sculpted him out of wax, subtly highlighted his hair and adorned him with puka shells and a suede jacket. What a tool. Anyway, he annoys me is the point.
Now I never caught on to this whole American Idol phenomenon. I remember watching the first season of Popstars (which by the way, what the f*** ever happened to them??) but never got into the whole American Idol thing. Well, apparently he's adopted this sign-off where he says, "Seacrest, out." Dude. Cheese and a half. Well, Howard and the gang just about move me to tears when they make fun of this. I know to most people it's probably not that funny, but I damn near piss my pants when Howard goes, "Stern, IN?" I guess it's because I can't stand the guy that I find it far more hilarious than most. But the thing to take away from this is, I'm laughing again in the morning. And as Michelle suggested, I should make the switch to Kevin and Bean. Well, I used to listen to them regularly but now only on Howards commericals. I have to give them credit for Cheesecrest and MEcrest, because it was on their show that I first heard it. I know they hate them the Joan Rivers, and who knows, if they can keep the making fun of Seacrest level high enough, I just might have to make the switch back.
Sunday, March 14, 2004
You know Britney's gotta be the next target
Getting up at the butt crack of dawn sucks. Getting on the road shortly after sucks too. But for myself and many others across America there is a consolation (sp?). His name is Howard Stern.
I haven't been a Stern fan my whole life. Erica used to talk about him all the time and I just didn't get him. I thought he was kinda pervy and weird. Then I was dating this guy who was obsessed with him and decided, all right, I'll give the dude a try. And ya know, he was crude and obnoxious, but I loved it.
So I've been listening to his show for awhile now, and recently the FCC has been wanting to crackdown on his a** and Clear Channel pulled him in six markets or something. So for the past couple of weeks, all he's been talking about is the issue and how it's related to Dubya and they're out to get him, yada yada. Now I understand he wants to vent his frustration and all, and I don't blame him, but man, I wanna laugh in the morning on my way to work, not get bummed out.
Now I consider myself to be pretty conservative in the issues, registered Republican, Christian, what have you. And at the same time, I rarely discuss politics or governmental issues because I don't know a lot about them and I don't pretend to know, so most of the time I just keep my yap shut when it's the topic at hand. But I've got to be honest, I'm pretty annoyed with this whole war against indecency thing. Yeah, it probably wasn't such a good idea for Janet to be showcasing that flabby teet of hers, but the commercials during the Super Bowl weren't exactly G-rated content either. Is it because it's election year that there's a big crackdown? Or are we just too freakin uptight? I really don't know. Somebody clue me in.
I had to watch a movie this weekend for my French Civilisation class called Germinal, and in it I saw several ti**ies, two peepees and a very naked Gerard Depardieu. When I was in France, we would see naked boobies in movie trailers! Several coutries in Europe teach youth about birth control and sexual education, not necessarily abstinence, and their teenage pregnancy rates are waaaaaaay below ours. Just to clarify, I'm not one of those people who, just because I've spent time in Europe, think that the European people are far superior to their American counterparts. Trust me, I've met people like that. But I can't help but think they're doing something right in the sex department. I don't know. You tell me, am I wrong here?
I haven't been a Stern fan my whole life. Erica used to talk about him all the time and I just didn't get him. I thought he was kinda pervy and weird. Then I was dating this guy who was obsessed with him and decided, all right, I'll give the dude a try. And ya know, he was crude and obnoxious, but I loved it.
So I've been listening to his show for awhile now, and recently the FCC has been wanting to crackdown on his a** and Clear Channel pulled him in six markets or something. So for the past couple of weeks, all he's been talking about is the issue and how it's related to Dubya and they're out to get him, yada yada. Now I understand he wants to vent his frustration and all, and I don't blame him, but man, I wanna laugh in the morning on my way to work, not get bummed out.
Now I consider myself to be pretty conservative in the issues, registered Republican, Christian, what have you. And at the same time, I rarely discuss politics or governmental issues because I don't know a lot about them and I don't pretend to know, so most of the time I just keep my yap shut when it's the topic at hand. But I've got to be honest, I'm pretty annoyed with this whole war against indecency thing. Yeah, it probably wasn't such a good idea for Janet to be showcasing that flabby teet of hers, but the commercials during the Super Bowl weren't exactly G-rated content either. Is it because it's election year that there's a big crackdown? Or are we just too freakin uptight? I really don't know. Somebody clue me in.
I had to watch a movie this weekend for my French Civilisation class called Germinal, and in it I saw several ti**ies, two peepees and a very naked Gerard Depardieu. When I was in France, we would see naked boobies in movie trailers! Several coutries in Europe teach youth about birth control and sexual education, not necessarily abstinence, and their teenage pregnancy rates are waaaaaaay below ours. Just to clarify, I'm not one of those people who, just because I've spent time in Europe, think that the European people are far superior to their American counterparts. Trust me, I've met people like that. But I can't help but think they're doing something right in the sex department. I don't know. You tell me, am I wrong here?
Saturday, March 13, 2004
This may come off sounding bitchy, but I don't mean it to
Friends and family:
You know I love you with all my heart, and I am so blessed that you are a part of my life. I'm not just saying that, I really mean it.
I know that you have good intentions. But my dear friends and family, please, please refrain from forwarding me emails that are only going to clog my inbox with fluff I don't want to read.
Let me clarify.
I will never doubt our love or friendship. So there is no need to send me emails with lovely poetry, or Irish friendship blessings, or anything that says "if I receive this email back than I know that you are my friend," etc etc. I know that you want to send these things to me letting me know you're thinking about me, and I appreciate it, but really there is no need as I trust in our friendship enough to know that "angels are looking over me."
Also, I really hate to break it to some of you, but seriously, Microsoft, or Disney, whoever, is not going to send you a check for $4882.05 if you forward that email to 16 different people. And you know what, the "really cool thing" that happens if you forward the email, never happens either. Here's a guideline for you: if somewhere in the body of an email it says "I tried it and it really works!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I'm willing to bet it doesn't. I'll tell you what though - if you really want to keep participating in these types of emails, and you need a 10th or 11th person to add in order to see the dancing leperachaun (sp?) then by all means, send whatever the heck you want to krustacean2@hotmail.com. I'd be more than willing to help you out there.
However, I'm not a complete a**hole when it comes to receiving email. Jokes are cool. I like me the jokes. And emails that can be of service to me - like how not to get myself raped or attacked, how to know if a mirror in a dressing room is two-way, the evils of Jane Fonda - those are okay. I don't mind getting those. Pictures of naked hot naked guys, pictures of you with hot naked guys, any other type of forward is fine. It's just those two first types -the mushy,friendship type and the chain letter type. Anything else goes.
So friends and family - I hope you understand. Just say to yourself, "how rude" and then delete me from your forward list. But please don't take this as an insult, it's nothing personal, I'm just asking a little favor. And if there's anything that I ever send to you that you want me to cease, by all means, tell me to knock it off. (I'm sure there were a ton of you who were plenty annoyed by my mass France mailings.) Just remember I have nothing but love for ya.
You know I love you with all my heart, and I am so blessed that you are a part of my life. I'm not just saying that, I really mean it.
I know that you have good intentions. But my dear friends and family, please, please refrain from forwarding me emails that are only going to clog my inbox with fluff I don't want to read.
Let me clarify.
I will never doubt our love or friendship. So there is no need to send me emails with lovely poetry, or Irish friendship blessings, or anything that says "if I receive this email back than I know that you are my friend," etc etc. I know that you want to send these things to me letting me know you're thinking about me, and I appreciate it, but really there is no need as I trust in our friendship enough to know that "angels are looking over me."
Also, I really hate to break it to some of you, but seriously, Microsoft, or Disney, whoever, is not going to send you a check for $4882.05 if you forward that email to 16 different people. And you know what, the "really cool thing" that happens if you forward the email, never happens either. Here's a guideline for you: if somewhere in the body of an email it says "I tried it and it really works!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I'm willing to bet it doesn't. I'll tell you what though - if you really want to keep participating in these types of emails, and you need a 10th or 11th person to add in order to see the dancing leperachaun (sp?) then by all means, send whatever the heck you want to krustacean2@hotmail.com. I'd be more than willing to help you out there.
However, I'm not a complete a**hole when it comes to receiving email. Jokes are cool. I like me the jokes. And emails that can be of service to me - like how not to get myself raped or attacked, how to know if a mirror in a dressing room is two-way, the evils of Jane Fonda - those are okay. I don't mind getting those. Pictures of naked hot naked guys, pictures of you with hot naked guys, any other type of forward is fine. It's just those two first types -the mushy,friendship type and the chain letter type. Anything else goes.
So friends and family - I hope you understand. Just say to yourself, "how rude" and then delete me from your forward list. But please don't take this as an insult, it's nothing personal, I'm just asking a little favor. And if there's anything that I ever send to you that you want me to cease, by all means, tell me to knock it off. (I'm sure there were a ton of you who were plenty annoyed by my mass France mailings.) Just remember I have nothing but love for ya.
Thursday, March 11, 2004
Superstitions
When I was in high school, I used to think that bad things happened when it rained. It was coincidental that I would bomb a test, or get dumped by a boyfriend, have a crappy day, whatever, everytime it rained. Now I love me the rain. Not extended periods of rain, but storms here and there are cool. I don't know what changed.
Now my freak superstition is that if in the morning, I finish my bowl of cereal, I'm going to have a bad day at work. I'm ending my third week at work tomorrow. Since I've started, I've usually rushed out of the house and was unable to finish my bowl of cereal. Except one day. Last Thursday. I even made a concious note that, hey, I'm actually finishing my bowl of cereal. And how many bad days at work have I had? One. And what day was that on? The day I finished my bowl of cereal. So now, even if I have a few minutes left to spare in the morning, the last few bites of cereal go down the drain. Why?
BECAUSE I'M A F***ING FREAK, THAT'S WHY!!
Somebody out there, please tell me that I'm not alone in these freak superstitions???
Now my freak superstition is that if in the morning, I finish my bowl of cereal, I'm going to have a bad day at work. I'm ending my third week at work tomorrow. Since I've started, I've usually rushed out of the house and was unable to finish my bowl of cereal. Except one day. Last Thursday. I even made a concious note that, hey, I'm actually finishing my bowl of cereal. And how many bad days at work have I had? One. And what day was that on? The day I finished my bowl of cereal. So now, even if I have a few minutes left to spare in the morning, the last few bites of cereal go down the drain. Why?
BECAUSE I'M A F***ING FREAK, THAT'S WHY!!
Somebody out there, please tell me that I'm not alone in these freak superstitions???
Tuesday, March 09, 2004
So what if he was only 5'6"?
Seriously, if you ever want to know anything about Napoleon Bonaparte, ask me. My brain is so full of Napoleon research that it's going to start flowing out my cranial orafices. (Does the term, "cranial orafices" exist, or did I make that up?)
Saturday, March 06, 2004
You can call me Vanna
In my shopping spree at Target for "professional" clothes to wear to work last week, I cruised by the DVD section and noticed a little classic called Van Wilder on sale for $7.50. What a bargain for such an awesome movie. Not to mention one very hot Ryan Reynolds.
I myself have a little something in common with Van Wilder. I am in my seventh year of college. And so I thought I'd share a little bit of humor and wisdom from this movie that so does not suck rectum.
Richard: Mr. Wilder here is quite the collegian. He's in his, what? sixth year?
Van Wilder: Actually, its lucky number seven.
Vance Wilder, Sr.: Van is still in school?
Assistant: For the better part of a decade.
Gwen: Well I think it takes a lot more then the kind of underwear one wears to define them as a person.
Van: Like what!?!
Van: If you're always thinking about the future, then you kinda forget about the present.
Van: I know Ms. Pac-Man is special. She's fun. She's cute. She swallows.
Van: Worrying is like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but it doesn't get you anywhere.
Van: But you know what I've learned in my seven years here at Coolidge... Timmy? I've learned that you can't treat every situation as a life-and-death matter because you'll die a lot of times. Write that down.
Van: You should always inspect the quality of the turf before you step on to the field........don't thank me, thank penicillin.
Van: You shouldn't take life too seriously. You'll never get out alive.
Ok, so this movie contains scenes in which a group of guys eats eclairs full of a dog's funky spunk and a real DIK takes a liquidous crap in a trash can in front of an interview panel. But you know what, if you look again at that list of quotes, you'll see this movie includes a lot of wisdom that we can all live by.
I myself have a little something in common with Van Wilder. I am in my seventh year of college. And so I thought I'd share a little bit of humor and wisdom from this movie that so does not suck rectum.
Richard: Mr. Wilder here is quite the collegian. He's in his, what? sixth year?
Van Wilder: Actually, its lucky number seven.
Vance Wilder, Sr.: Van is still in school?
Assistant: For the better part of a decade.
Gwen: Well I think it takes a lot more then the kind of underwear one wears to define them as a person.
Van: Like what!?!
Van: If you're always thinking about the future, then you kinda forget about the present.
Van: I know Ms. Pac-Man is special. She's fun. She's cute. She swallows.
Van: Worrying is like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but it doesn't get you anywhere.
Van: But you know what I've learned in my seven years here at Coolidge... Timmy? I've learned that you can't treat every situation as a life-and-death matter because you'll die a lot of times. Write that down.
Van: You should always inspect the quality of the turf before you step on to the field........don't thank me, thank penicillin.
Van: You shouldn't take life too seriously. You'll never get out alive.
Ok, so this movie contains scenes in which a group of guys eats eclairs full of a dog's funky spunk and a real DIK takes a liquidous crap in a trash can in front of an interview panel. But you know what, if you look again at that list of quotes, you'll see this movie includes a lot of wisdom that we can all live by.
Thursday, March 04, 2004
Not exactly what Paul had in mind
My last semester of the first time I went to college, I needed a few extra random units in order to graduate. I could take whatever I wanted, but I wasn't able to re-take Psychology of Human Sexuality. So I chose First Aid and Stress Management. (And for the record, don't expect me to save your life in a situation because all that I remembered is how to apply a pressure bandage. And the only reason I remember that is because the hot guy in class had to demonstrate on me. Sigh. )
Anyway, so stress management ideally was to teach us how to deal with the events of life. One of our textbooks was Don't Sweat the Small Stuff. And similar to the First Aid class, the only reason I went was because there was a hot guy in the class - the teacher, Paul.
One time Paul made us do a time management exercise where we had to write down everything we did in a week and how long we did it for. Then the next week, we had to write down a "managed schedule" and try to follow it in order to get everything we wanted accomplished. Heh.
Well recently I thought, Paul was both hot and wise. The time management thing is a good idea. I should really try to put forth the effort in order to reduce the stress and pressure of my current work and academic schedule. It would go as follows:
5am Wake up and get ready
5:50-6:30 Drive to work
6:30-2:00 Work
2:00-2:45 Drive home
2:45-3:30 Personal time
3:30-4:30 Exercise
4:30-4:45 Shower
4:45-5:15 Dinner
5:15-7:30 Homework/Study
7:30-8:00 Bills/Chores, etc
8:00-10:00 Personal Time
Sounds like a good balance, right? Here's how the experiement turned out yesterday...
5am Hit snooze
5:15-6:00 Scramble to find clean, professional outfit to wear; get ready; feed a screaming cat
6:00-6:35 Mad dash to work
6:35-6:50 Zone out (ala Office Space)
6:50-2:00 Work my ass off for the Man
2:00-2:45 Drive home
2:45-8:00 Personal time
8:00-9:35 Go online and find the English translation for the French articles I'm supposed to be reading; read all bazillion pages of it
9:35-10:00 The OC
10:00 Bed
This has kinda been my cycle all through school. I have the best intentions of buckling down and getting the work done first so that I can relax, but something important always comes up. Like yesterday, a very touching episode of "Sabrina the Teenage Witch." (Of which I will elaborate on in a future post.) I wish there was a pill that would suppress my procrastinating ways, but alas, none as of yet. It would sure come in handy right now, 5 days before a 15 minute presentation in French on Napoleon Bonaparte. Hey, I've at least printed out a couple pages of research. It's a start.
Anyway, so stress management ideally was to teach us how to deal with the events of life. One of our textbooks was Don't Sweat the Small Stuff. And similar to the First Aid class, the only reason I went was because there was a hot guy in the class - the teacher, Paul.
One time Paul made us do a time management exercise where we had to write down everything we did in a week and how long we did it for. Then the next week, we had to write down a "managed schedule" and try to follow it in order to get everything we wanted accomplished. Heh.
Well recently I thought, Paul was both hot and wise. The time management thing is a good idea. I should really try to put forth the effort in order to reduce the stress and pressure of my current work and academic schedule. It would go as follows:
5am Wake up and get ready
5:50-6:30 Drive to work
6:30-2:00 Work
2:00-2:45 Drive home
2:45-3:30 Personal time
3:30-4:30 Exercise
4:30-4:45 Shower
4:45-5:15 Dinner
5:15-7:30 Homework/Study
7:30-8:00 Bills/Chores, etc
8:00-10:00 Personal Time
Sounds like a good balance, right? Here's how the experiement turned out yesterday...
5am Hit snooze
5:15-6:00 Scramble to find clean, professional outfit to wear; get ready; feed a screaming cat
6:00-6:35 Mad dash to work
6:35-6:50 Zone out (ala Office Space)
6:50-2:00 Work my ass off for the Man
2:00-2:45 Drive home
2:45-8:00 Personal time
8:00-9:35 Go online and find the English translation for the French articles I'm supposed to be reading; read all bazillion pages of it
9:35-10:00 The OC
10:00 Bed
This has kinda been my cycle all through school. I have the best intentions of buckling down and getting the work done first so that I can relax, but something important always comes up. Like yesterday, a very touching episode of "Sabrina the Teenage Witch." (Of which I will elaborate on in a future post.) I wish there was a pill that would suppress my procrastinating ways, but alas, none as of yet. It would sure come in handy right now, 5 days before a 15 minute presentation in French on Napoleon Bonaparte. Hey, I've at least printed out a couple pages of research. It's a start.
Tuesday, March 02, 2004
Dreams - part deux
I have never had a premonition(sp?) in a dream before until two nights ago. I've been having a lot of back pain lately when I sleep, so I've moved to the couch for now until I figure out what the hell is wrong. (Couch=good for helping me sleep, my cheap ass mattress=bad) Well, the other night I got up at 3am with my usual attack of back pain and head to the couch. While I was on the couch, I had a dream that my cat barfed all over my comforter in the other room. Sure enough when I got up at 5, I walked into my room and found a bedspread full of chunky cat vomit. My first psychic dream comes true!
Also, I have a new best friend. Her name, I think, is Calms Forte (no F***in clue how to spell it, but it's pronounced for-tay). Michelle told me about these fab little pills that you're supposed to take in order to sleep well and wake up fully rested - like the night before an important exam, interview, what have you. Well, it says to take 1-3 pills. One didn't really do anything for me, two a little bit, but THREE! Man, it was like somebody slipped a rufie in my vodka collins. I was out cold. I usually wake up a few times during the night. But last night I went to bed around 10, and didn't wake up til 3:30 (which is awesome for me) and it was like I was completely oblivious to anything that went on during that time. So I went back to sleep and got up at 5 to get ready for work, and the first few minutes are always tough, when you're realizing, dammit, it's 5am and I have a day full of crap ahead. But after that I was peppy and perky. Thanks Calms Forte!!!
Also, I have a new best friend. Her name, I think, is Calms Forte (no F***in clue how to spell it, but it's pronounced for-tay). Michelle told me about these fab little pills that you're supposed to take in order to sleep well and wake up fully rested - like the night before an important exam, interview, what have you. Well, it says to take 1-3 pills. One didn't really do anything for me, two a little bit, but THREE! Man, it was like somebody slipped a rufie in my vodka collins. I was out cold. I usually wake up a few times during the night. But last night I went to bed around 10, and didn't wake up til 3:30 (which is awesome for me) and it was like I was completely oblivious to anything that went on during that time. So I went back to sleep and got up at 5 to get ready for work, and the first few minutes are always tough, when you're realizing, dammit, it's 5am and I have a day full of crap ahead. But after that I was peppy and perky. Thanks Calms Forte!!!
