How are you today? I'm superfantastic.

I'll Take Potpurri for $1000, Alex

So.  Some stuff has happened.  Just not anything that wanted to turn into a post.  Now that it's been a week, allow me to just smash all of the things together with only the faintest hint of a transition between them and call it a post.

My drive down here last week was pleasantly uneventful.  My mom's friends, sort of my other mothers, Jean and Mary rode down with me so they could visit my mom and see the babies.  We made it to Oklahoma on Tuesday night, where we encountered our camo-clad hotel clerk friend who, seeing the Wisconsin plates, asked if any of us were from Madison.  I said I was and he told me that my money was no good there (Sweet!) because he can't stand all of those God-and-country-hating hippies from Madison.  Sure.  Yes.  That's me.  He accepted Mary's Footville, Wisconsin-based money, we spent the night, and rolled into San Antonio late Wednesday afternoon.

Then on Saturday, I took the Texas Examination of Educator Standards (TExES) (seriously).  I wasn't overly concerned going in since standardized tests are sort of a special gift of mine.  On the other hand, it was pretty important that I pass it since not only would school districts not even interview me until I passed, but also I did not want to pay another $117 to retake it. 

I used only an hour and a half of the FIVE HOURS allotted to finish the test and walked out with absolutely no idea as to whether I had passed.  I've never been one of those people to say "oh, I don't know if I passed" just to get people to say "of course you did, you smartypants, you."  Because, really.  False humility: what is the point?  This test though, involved quite a few questions that were basically judgement calls on the best way to handle a classroom situation.  I knew what I would do, but not whether that was considered the right answer.  Turns out, enough of them were.  I got my scores today and out of a possible 300, I scored whatever was enough to pass and that's all that matters.  Whew.

Hey!  Look!  We have ads!  Over there to the right, below all of that other stuff.  Alan put them up for me today, which, folks, is why we stay friends with ex-boyfriends.  To make them keep doing stuff for us.  I don't think I'm going to make my fortune or anything but it would be nice if at some point, this blog would begin to actually pay for itself.

And finally, a lot of people over the years have seemed to find the depth of my love for Tim Russert a bit odd.  But if you saw the tribute on Sunday, you saw his friends confirm all of my impressions that had so endeared him to me.  That even more than smart, he was endlessly curious.  That he saw his role in large part as that of educator.  That he felt strongly that politicians should be held accountable for what they did and said, particularly when those two things did not align.  And that he was good friend, husband, father, son, and above all, an honest-to-God decent human being.  Our country is the poorer for his loss.

What doctors call "a little bit of an attention problem"

For those of you who haven't been around here that long or haven't been paying attention, allow me to explain that I am rather absent-minded.  And thank goodness, because I rely on that trait and its resulting stories for quite a bit of my blog and Twitter material. 

We're all a little absent-minded, Lori, you are thinking.

Well, you know how sometimes you walk from one room to another and by the time you get there, you've forgotten why you went?

Yes!  See, you are not so special as you think!  We all do that!

But unlike most people, I am capable, in the time it takes to open a drawer, of forgetting what I wanted to get out of it.  I have, on numerous occasions, been driving and had to wrack my brain to remember where it was that I was going.  Digital cable has been a boon to me because now, when I forget in the space of a commercial break what I was even watching, I can hit the Info button to find out.  When I had to get my car fixed last summer, I made a concerted effort to remember the name of the part that had to be replaced and all three times that Jerry the Mechanic mentioned it, I immediately forgot it.  This is maddening.

A couple of years ago, my then-boss diagnosed me with ADD.  It's not an official diagnosis because she is not a doctor.  However, she is not only a pediatric therapist who has seen more than her share of the attention-deficient set, but also the mother of a child with AD/HD.  At the time I thought, HA! What an excellent excuse that will be!  But the more I read, the more convinced I became that I really do have it.  And it explains A LOT.  All of those tendencies that I had ascribed to being a quirky, creative type are really just the product of a neurological disorder.  How boring.  I never went and got officially diagnosed because I checked what my insurance was going to cover on ADD meds and there was no way I was going to be able to afford them anyway.  I get by with my coping mechanisms, for the most part.

This week, for some reason has been worse than usual.  I think, in part, it has to do with not having slept so well lately, thanks to the sudden increase in allergy crud (thanks a lot, SPRING).  There is also the way that I have far too many things going on in my brain at the moment: All of the many details about when and how I will move.  The whole subletting of the apartment and whether either of those people actually applied or should I post it again?  And the one skillion things I have to do to get started in my teaching program and get my provisional license, all of which need to be done AT THIS VERY MOMENT except that when I email with a question about how to do something, they forward me the very document I just read that does not address my question at all.  When I have too many things to keep track of at once, it tends to cause my brain to catch on fire and thus, become useless.

With the result that I paid my rent on Monday, the very last possible day to do it, not because I was procrastinating, but because I hadn't noticed that a new month had started.  That's despite having written 5-1-08 literally 150 times at work on Friday.  When I went to pick up my coffee on the way out Monday morning, I discovered that I hadn't actually made any.  And the salad I brought for lunch could have been better, had I remembered about the salad dressing.  This morning, I dressed in a skirt with no tights and it wasn't until after I had left my house that I stopped to think about when I might have last shaved.  (Sunday, which isn't actually too bad.  Not that it matters since I have a blanket over my legs anyway because I sit in the Freezing Cubicle of Arctic Doom.  Nobody finds the blanket odd, since everybody gets stuck here when they're new and then they move as soon as another cubicle opens up.)

Last night, I even dreamed that I had been attacked as a result of my own forgetfulness.  A man was hiding in my closet.  (This was a fictional dream apartment - my real apartment has no closet door.  For safety, potential renters!  No men hiding behind your closet door!)  He had been able to get into my apartment because I had left my keys in the lock.  Death by absent-mindedness!  A TERMINAL CASE OF ADD!

Which brings me to my point: Mom, I bought you a card.  It is sitting on my desk.  I will try to remember to mail it.  Really.

Proper Prior Planning

From me!  But first, let me just explain that we'll hold off on the grammar until next week(ish).  All of you geeks with your excellent comments have gotten to all but one of the items on my current list.  (A list!  For I am forgetful!)  (Saved in Word!  For I lose pieces of paper!)

So allow me instead to regale you with some fascinating anecdotes of what I've been up to since the weekend.

Except the first one sort of starts on the weekend, when I had the forethought to buy a new hairdryer WHILE THE OLD ONE WAS STILL WORKING.  I've written before about how I kill hairdryers like Texas does convicts.  Usually I've had a roommate to mooch off until I could get to Target for a new one.  But when this one started to smell like burning (the first sign of imminent hairdryer demise) I realized that if it died, I would have no spare to borrow.  And then I'd go out in the cold with wet hair and catch my death!  Ok, not really, but I'd be extra cold, wouldn't I?  So I bought one on Saturday and my old one officially died yesterday morning.  Et voila, a whole extra hairdryer was all ready to go!  I forgot though that the old one was some sort of quiet tone something.  By comparison, the new one sort of sounds like a jet engine.  And there you have the story of how proper prior planning prevents pneumonia.  (You have to pronounce the p in pneumonia to make that work.  Thank you.)

I did not, however, plan ahead well enough on the boot waterproofing front.  I've been meaning to buy waterproofing spray ever since I bought the boots a week ago.  In none of the one million trips I made since then to Target, Shopko, Walgreens, two malls, and some grocery stores did I remember to buy any.  Yesterday though, it was at the forefront of my mind as I went into Walgreens with cold, wet feet where my boots had soaked straight through.  And wouldn't you know it, my boots and also feet were completely dry when I got to work this morning, despite the deep snow I tromped through on my way here from the bus.  I guess all that Kiwi Rain & Stain that I sold to people in my years at the Finish Line was not a totally useless add-on meant only to inlfate my sales after all!

So yes, I am taking the bus right now.  Yesterday was the day I finally got to take my car in for the coolant leak thing after a week of filling it at least once a day, usually while standing in a snow mound in my parking lot.  Naturally, yesterday was also a big winter storm.  Before I began my slow crawl of a drive from work to the garage, I got to fill my coolant while it was actively snowing.  Fun!  It did, however, let up in the time it took me to clear the snow and ice off my car.  I am what you might call a thorough car scraper.  It's one of my compulsions, like the way that I have to get peanut butter spread perfectly evenly on a slice of bread.  Why these things bother me and not the shoes scattered throughout my apartment, I do not know.

I dropped my car off with Jerry the Trustworthy Car Guy and got the bus home.  We picked up a bunch of high schoolers on the way and I was treated to some scintillating conversation.  First, one of them had a baby niece, but the girl's sister was not breastfeeding because her boobs never got big enough.  This led to a discussion of whether these girls thought their boobs could possibly get big enough.  (They all thought no.)  Then they moved on to the saga of J-Rod and Brittany.  See, they have broken up.  And it was posited, since one of them had seen J-Rod with red eyes, looking like he had been crying, that Brittany did the dumping.  While this was entertaining and all, it did not make me nostalgic for my days of spending lots of hours on buses with high schoolers.  This is mostly because where you have a busload of teenagers, at some point you're going to have a busload of teenagers singing Baby Got Back.

Yesterday, coincidentally, was the official Wisconsin Snowplow Driver Appreciation Day.  As a token of our appreciation, snowplow drivers, please accept this gift of round-the-clock work, beginning at three in the morning.  Thanks, guys!

In which I buy shoes. How unlike me.

Here are some things I did this weekend:

Battled Mothra in my bedroom.  It was harrowing.  I was planning to stand on a chair and hit it with shoe, until it occurred to me that putting my face that close to it practically guaranteed that it would fly at me before I could smush it.  So I threw shoes at it until I hit it and it fell on the floor, and then I smashed it with another shoe just to be extra sure that it was dead.  I did not even require the assistance of Godzilla.  The nation of Japan is now free to thank me with generous gifts of electronics and economy cars.

Bought pretty, pretty new boots.  I discovered when I went to change from my snow boots to my stiletto boots last Friday that the heel of my left boot was bent at a 45 degree angle.  Also the metal was sticking out the bottom.  Curse my rotten luck, I needed to go shoe shopping.  It was a hardship, but I persevered and got these on sale for $40 from $90.

Had an eggnog shake from Culver's.  Eggnog.  Frozen custard.  Enough said.

Watched yet another hokey Christmas movie.  I'm talking made for TV.  I don't watch made for TV movies at any other time of year, but I am a sucker for the schmaltzy Christmas movies.  Usually someone is forced to return home from New York/Los Angeles to the small town he or she left years ago.  This tends to be due to the death or sickness of a parent.  The person regains his or her holiday spirit while falling in love with an old high school flame or the new guy/girl in town.  It's all very heartwarming.  I am not proud of this.

Got the stinkeye from a salesperson at New York & Co.  They ask you for your phone number when you make a purchase.  This has also happened to me at other stores.  Does anyone ever give their actual number to these people?  Normally I just give a fake number.  I've also gotten away in the past with just saying "I don't have a home number."  I tried that on this girl and she just stared at me as if to say "So?"  I told her I wasn't giving her my cell number and she openly glared at me.  From now on, when they ask if they can get my phone number, I'm just saying no. No, you may not have my phone number.  The end.

Which seems like as good a way to end as any.

Random is the New Coherent

Well, ok, so I haven't come up with more to say about any of these things or anything to say about anything else, so instead, you get another Post of Randomness.  You're welcome!

• I've been getting a lot of paper cuts at work.  Handling all that paper dries out my hands, so I am constantly putting on lotion in an attempt to getting avoid more paper cuts.  And holy moly does Jergens lotion sting going into a paper cut.  Except I discovered that I had only thought that lotion stung on a paper cut.  It is practically a pleasant sensation compared with the juice of a Granny Smith apple.  I had to call upon every last drop of self-restraint that I posses to keep from running around the office screaming IT BURNS.  IT BUUUUUUUURRRRRNNNS!
• I just saw a headline on MSN about stars who may or may not be pregnant.  It began with the phrase "Womb Watch".  I find that deeply disturbing.
• The woman in the cubicle next to mine has her phone ringer set to this extended beep that sounds just like the bell at my high school.  Every time someone calls her I feel like I should be packing up my geometry book and freaking out about whether I remembered to do my French homework.
• Did you ever buy someone a really good Christmas present a full month and a half before Christmas and then feel like it might actually kill you having to wait all that time before the person can open it and know what it is?
• Did you ever worry that if you spent a month and a half building up the perfectness of someone's Christmas gift that it might perhaps wind up being a huge let-down in the end because no gift could possibly ever live up to that much hype?
• Oh, Target.  Have you been reading my diary again?  Because somehow you knew that I wanted to Christmas up my eight foot long mantle but could not afford to spend much on decorations and so you thoughtfully put your nine foot long lighted garland on sale for practically nothing.  Really, you have outdone yourself this time.  Target, you complete me.
• Does anyone know of a good allergy medicine that will not make me feel twitchy like the Alavert or cause me to slip into a coma like the Benadryl?  Fakey store brand Claritin did absolutely nothing for me.  I don't really have itchy eyes or sinus pain so much as just constant congestion, plenty of sneezing, and the occasional yet highly troubling post-nasal drip.  Suggestions are most welcome.
• Would someone please put away the clean laundry that is sitting in the basket in my bedroom?  It has been there for a week now and I can't help but notice that no one has taken care of it yet.  Your prompt attention to this matter is appreciated.

Some things happened since I got back from vacation too. Nothing interesting per se, but since when has that stopped me?

Everyone in the world was at Target today.  At 3:30 on a Monday!  Well, ok, it was more like the entire incoming freshman class of the UW was there, rolling their eyes as their parents trailed them with carts saying things like, "Shower gel!  Do you need some shower gel?  HOW CAN YOU NOT NEED SHOWER GEL?" 

I believe that one of these eighteen year-olds would have paid me to have his or her mother follow me around instead and shout out items from my list at me, which frankly would have been quite helpful.  Thank goodness I did not require any assistance from Target personnel because there was just no way of telling who worked there, what with every other person wearing a red Wisconsin t-shirt.

If I had been thinking, I might have avoided all of this by making a pilgrimage to the Madison area's, nay Wisconsin's, very first SuperTarget!  I haven't been there yet, but I'm pretty sure that it's going to be SuperAwesome.

Hey, did you know that I moved again?  I'm all unpacked and I've even hung a few things on the walls.  I have yet to check out the attic storage situation, so there is still a pile o' boxes and rubbermaids obstrucing my lake view.  (You have to stand at the right diagonal from one end of the window and look in the far corner, but you can indeed see the lake.)  I'd love to show you a picture of my new marble fireplace with its EIGHT FOOT LONG mantle (it's a foot and a half deep - I'm going to need way bigger tchotchkes) but alas, I have no camera.  It turns out that the hardwood floors aren't so much "new" as "what must have been under the carpet", but they're plenty nice.  Except in the bedroom where they are brand new but fakety wood laminate.  Fakey, yes, but also nice and slidey in these here socks.

Sadly, the cell phone reception is, if possible, even worse here than in my old apartment.  I pretty much have to stand directly next to the front window in my bedroom.  Which is why I have observed the giant mutant racoon-bears that inhabit my neighborhood.  Also why I spent the full hour of my phone call with Microsoft customer support last Tuesday with one foot on my bed and my computer balanced on my knee.  That counts as pilates or something, right?

And in work-related news, I received an acrostic poem of my name from one of my students.  It reads:

Loving character!

Overacheiver! [sic]

Rockin & Rolling!

Is nice & caring!

Awww.  And also HA!  Overacheiver, right there in multi-colored crayon!  Who can argue with that?

Ok, probably lots of you.  In my student's defense, she didn't have a lot of O words to work with.  Organized?  Nope.  On top of things?  Rarely.  Ostentatious?  I think not.  Ornery?  Well...getting warmer, but this student is a well-behaved little girl so she hasn't seen that side of Miss Lori.  Obstinate?  There you have it.

And finally, on the Oh My God, My Job Ends This Friday and I Don't Have Another Job Yet front: on-line applications.  Why?  Why do I need to type out all of my previous jobs and what I did there?  This is why I have a resume.  Perhaps I could attach it?  No?  Really, the filling in the form?  Sigh.  (Please hire me.)

Because I can no longer be troubled to confine a post to even loosely related topics.

I was reading through the side effects on a medication I'm taking and one listed under "Contact Your Doctor If You Develop" is: paleness.  HOW WOULD I KNOW?

Something I've realized this week: Children=Terrorists.  Allow me to explain.  You know how you should never negotiate with terrorists?  Well, clearly I am rusty as a teacher.  When I told a student to write a certain sentence and he asked whether he could write something slightly different, I said ok.  He has since wanted to negotiate on every sentence he writes.  This came to an abrupt end today, however, when he said "I'll spell 'three' if I get to pick my next sentence" and I said "No, you'll spell 'three' because I told you to."  Problem solved.  (I experienced some guilt over using the "because I said so" rationale for about the first thirty seconds of my teaching career.  Then I realized that it is not only efficient, but also just good solid preparation for life after school.  I have done many a nonsensical thing at the direction of some boss or another simply because he or she said so.)

I'm seeing my friends Jennie and Adam this weekend.  They live in Chicago and I used to visit them when I was up here for Christmas.  Adam would try to convince me to move to Chicago and I would laugh because he clearly had to be joking, seeing as how it was always many degrees below zero during his pitch.  And windy.  I guess I showed him.  I moved...north of there.  Crap.

I currently have sixteen unread Newsweeks in a basket next to my couch.  I tell you, you get behind an issue or two on that thing and you are in trouble because they just keep on coming.  Every week!  Perhaps I should look into getting my news on a monthly basis instead.

I saw a whole lot of band camp kids crossing the street the other day.  I never went to band camp, but I did live for a week in a Madison dorm getting my geek on at Girls State.  Good golly, most of it was boring.  I recall that we were so boy-deprived that week that the sandwich line guy in the dining hall was starting to look good to us.  The kid who had been the governor of Badger Boys State the year before spoke at our inauguration thing and I have to think that those were the only catcalls that guy has probably ever received.  I'm sure we sent him off to college thinking he was hot stuff indeed.  Sorry, former Boys State governor guy.  That probably didn't do you many favors in the long-run.

Some things I've found funny recently

The Pizza Hut signs around here say Pizza Hut Italian Bistro.  This cracks me up.  I'm not going to pretend that I don't have an unhealthy love for Pizza Hut breadsticks, but come on, Hut, Italian Bistro?  Really?

I would like to pitch a class to the University of Wisconsin that I would be only too glad to teach.  It would be called Crosswalks 101.  Topics covered would include: 1) Walking your lazy ass the extra five yards down to the corner before running out into traffic.  2) No Means No: How to handle a DON'T WALK situation.

Alternately, watch for an upcoming post entitled How I Ran Over a Nineteen Year-Old in the Middle of the Damn Street and Why I Am Not Sorry.

I was feeling all proud of myself the other day when I realized, as I walked into Target, that I was for once going there not wearing an entire Target outfit.  My skirt came from Banana Republic.  Ha!  (Ok, the outlet.)  Then I realized that my shoes, purse, and sunglasses all came from Target.  Ok, fine, Target.  You've made your point.  You own me.

A good high school friend of mine used to live in Madison, but we lost touch, so I googlestalked her and found that she is back here.  We used to call her Grammar Girl in high school and so when I went to write a We haven't talked in eight years, but I'm moving to Madison WILL YOU BE MY FRIEND? email, I paid extra attention to my grammar.  Because what if I said "you and I" when I meant "you and me" and then she thought that I had clearly not turned out well?  Right, like you've never judged anyone harshly based solely on their grammar.  Really, you haven't?  Weird.

Here's a survey I've been conducting among friends: At a party, is it better to be the socially crippled girl or the really drunk girl?  Please weigh in.

Are you sure that you would not like to buy a reasonably priced microwave?

Well.  The packing is certainly coming along.  This is despite the fact that, thanks to having given blood yesterday, I was falling asleep by 9:00 last night.  Almost everything that is easily categorized and labeled is packed, leaving me with all of the dreaded Random.  Random is all of the stuff that you forget about, like cleaning supplies, lampshades, and the Things That Live Under My Bed.  I do not know what all is under there, but I do know that I haven't used any of it in a year and it will be quite dusty.  I know for sure that this includes my old rifle from colorguard which, yes, I should have parted with many moves ago, but for some reason I continue to keep.  I justify keeping it by telling myself that it would make a really excellent weapon in case of a break-in.  Not that it is an actual rifle, but it is solid wood, which can do some real damage when applied to a human skull.  Just ask Tricia, who was in colorguard with me, assuming she remembers that one concussion that she got.

So, to celebrate having reached the Random phase of packing, I present this smorgasbord of randomness:

-I bought a bed from Craig's List.  It turned out to be way nicer than I expected.  It has a pillowtop mattress.  Because just what I needed was to make it even harder to pry myself out of bed in the morning.

-I did not buy the slay bed that I saw posted.  Or my personal favorite item so far, the chester drawers.  Chester Drawers sounds like a guy you don't want near your kids.

-I am finding that people are really amazed that I am driving to Madison all by myself.  They think this is really brave.  Really, it's just driving, which I do all of the time.  Just, you know, more.  It's like driving to work, except instead of stopping at work, I will just keep driving.  Then drive some more.  And then keep on driving.  And spend one million dollars on gas.

-Actually, I really like to drive by myself.  I can stop when I want, where I want.  I can listen to books on CD.  I can sing as loudly as I want, including singing all of the parts on the soundtrack to Rent.  And I think that I am pretty good company.  In case you haven't picked up on this, I find myself terribly amusing.

-Amy keeps saying, "You're going to live in Wisconsin."  And because this really hasn't quite sunk in yet and I am still focused on getting all of the packing done, I keep responding, "STOP SAYING THAT."  Denial is the first stage of moving.  Dropping half of my stuff off at Goodwill is the second.

-I've given away roughly half to three-quarters of my clothes because they were too big (well, some of them were just ugly).  This has left me with a pants collection consisting of one pair of khakis, one pair of khaki-colored linen pants, and the pants that went with my grey Ann Taylor suit, the jacket to which is now comically over-sized.  (I am donating it, along with the skirt, here.  They provide legal advocacy to victims of domestic abuse, who often need something to wear to court, as well as to future job interviews.)  I had one pair of shorts left, but have since bought a second pair.  Really, I tend to wear skirts all summer anyway since shorts never, ever fit me correctly, what with my flat butt and all.  I was suffering a critical shortage of plain-colored Old Navy t-shirts until Amy replenished my supply with all of hers that had become too short for her.  My sweater supply has dwindled to almost nothing.  Can you tell me if people are still wearing sweatercoats?  Because I haven't worn mine since moving to Texas and I'm not sure if it is now woefully out of style.

-There was this pizza place in my college town called Toppers.  Their pizza was pretty awful, but they make these cheesy breadsticks that are the best thing ever of all time.  Amy and I could say to each other, at any time of the night or day, "we should get Toppers" and then we would immediately call  (like everyone else, by "Toppers" we meant "breadsticks".)  Toppers now has a location in Madison which is close enough to deliver to my new apartment.  I am going to have to remind myself often that I no longer have my too-big clothes and will need to limit my Toppers intake accordingly.   But it won't be easy.  Additionally, there will be the issue of kringle.

That's probably more than enough for today, don't you think?

Why?

- Do I have the theme from The Godfather stuck in my head?

- Do people put apartment listings up on Craig's List with photos of the outside of the apartment complex, but not the inside of an apartment?  Particularly when these are downtown lofts that I can clearly not afford but am only looking at to see what $1500 gets you for a one bedroom in Austin?

- Does the girl next to me at my evening job chew on ice all night when it is so freaking cold in there that people wear gloves and bring blankets?

- On Grey's Anatomy, did Callie stop at just throwing George's jacket at him and kicking him out after what he said?  This paints an unrealistic picture for any men who may be watching, because the real life consequences of something like that would be SO MUCH WORSE.

And now...News from the Weekend!

Good news: Amy ripped out a 7 Minute Butt-Building Work-Out plan from one of her sporty magazines for me.  Look out, Jessica Biel, I am coming for you.

Bad news: My fortune cookie said "You will have a romantic evening tonight."  Unless that cookie considers watching last week's Grey's Anatomy to be a romantic evening, then the cookie was clearly just yanking my chain.

Good news: Even if McDonald's doesn't come through for you, not to worry!  Culver's will make you a mint shake any day of the year!  Which you can then render even more festive on St. Patrick's Day with the addition of some Bailey's.  Wouldn't my Irish ancestors want me to get drunk AND fat in their honor?  I think yes.

Bad news: The weekend is now officially over.  Cue melancholy music.  Maybe THAT'S why the theme from The Godfather!

What do you want from me, people? Transitions? Coherence? A theme? I THINK NOT!

I'm coming to you today from home on my lunch break since people at work keep interrupting me with their "tasks" and their "work-related items" and their "stuff for Lori to do".  I know!  THE HUMANITY!  There is so much to do because I am taking tomorrow off.  Yes, after ten days of lounging and a brutal three day work week, I'm taking tomorrow off since I leave tonight for Las Vegas!  I sent an email to everyone who needs to know that I'll be gone and got a few "have fun!" responses and one BUT WHO WILL ORDER OUR BREAKFAST AND LUNCH CATERING?  WHAT WILL BECOME OF US? phone call.  In case you are concerned, I have ordered the catering ahead of time.  No one will starve in my absence.

So, my car battery died last night.  Thanks to Work Friend Raul, I was able to get to Autozone to purchase a new one.  Before attaching the jumper cables, Raul first cleaned the corrosion off by pouring a Coke on it which did in fact eat the crud off on contact.  Which really ought to make us all think twice about our soda consumption.  And by "us all" I obviously mean "the rest of you people" because give up the free Diet Dr. Pepper?  HELL NO!  The interesting thing has been that the new battery seems to have fixed my CD player.  A while back, it quit remembering where it was when it stopped and would always just start back at the beginning.  This was getting a little bit irritating.  Not irritating on the scale of, say, Incessantly Humming Coworker, but definitely in the neighborhood of a persistent eyelid twitch.  But no more!  Now, when I start my car, I'm right where I left off!  Oh, the relief.

Next, I present What I Did Not Do on my Christmas Vacation: a report by Lori Graham, age 29 24.  Seeing as how I was mostly having loungy time over my break and not having to be anywhere in the morning, I was staying up late a lot.  And I saw A LOT of commercials for various call in lines, mostly promising local women.  These tended to feature a girl in a midriff-baring top laying around her apartment talking about how much she loved calling this line and meeting great people.  She could go out, but why?  She'd rather stay in and talk to hot local singles.  But my favorite was one featuring three women, apparently roommates, who are trying to figure out what to do with their evening.  A night on the town?  Perhaps a naked tickle-fight in the living room?  After all, they're half-naked already!  But no, they will call this line they've called before because the guys who came over last time were so hot!  They were going to call again and they hoped that the guys would be as hot as the last ones.  And when they got to the door, they were!  Katie has proposed that we experiment with this the next time we're in the same city just to see what will happen.  I have my doubts about the wisdom of that plan.

Ooh, and there is my new favorite Google Ad.  This one for some sort of WebMD knock-off said: "Third Trimester Pregnancy: Symptoms, Causes, and Treatments of Third Trimester Pregnancy".  (Yes, I did write it down so I could remember it for you people.  YOU'RE WELCOME.)  Now, I'm not a "medical professional" but I'm thinking that the cause of third trimester pregnancy is pretty much the same as the cause of first and second trimester pregnancy.  Do we have a doctor in the house?

And finally, the exciting news that you've all been waiting for: I'm leaving tonight for Vegas!  Wait, did I already say that?  See, I am going to be a bridesmaid in my former roommate Holly's wedding there.  And I am taking, as my travel companion/drinking buddy/wedding date, my former roommate Holly.  Confused?  Let me help.  My former DC roommate Holly is a blonde, blue-eyed teacher.  My former San Antonio roommate Holly is a blonde, blue-eyed teacher.  Got it?  No, I kid!  Here is some clarification:

DC roommate Holly has put me in serious danger on several occasions of peeing my pants with laughter.  Such as once when we were in the midst of a workday rubber band war (what, you don't have these in your office?) and I thought I'd just shoot over the cube wall in a downward fashion, not realizing that Holly, not a tall woman, was standing right there.  I heard a shriek and when I got to her cube, she was on the floor convulsing.  Fortunately I had not, in fact, shot her eye out and Holly being the outstanding gal that she is, was laughing, not crying and pointing to a perfect red oval on her forehead where the rubber band had left its likeness.  I nearly died laughing.  Seriously, I was going toward the light.

On the other hand, SA roommate Holly really, really cracks me up.  (In a real and true contrast, I don't think I have ever nearly killed SA roommate Holly, to the best of my recollection.)  She has also introduced several new phrases to my lexicon such as her little Mammie's "no bigger than a minute" and the you're funny/you make me laugh combo that came out "you make me funny" which I now say with regularity and don't give me strange looks about it anymore because now you know good and well where it came from.  It was together that we discovered the hilarity that is Passions, the greatest soap of all time.  We also may have done tequila shots together out of a shot-glass-shaped kitchen measuring cup, but I am unable really to confirm or deny that for you, the Internet.

DC roommate Holly and I danced together on our coffee table while SA roommate Holly and I regularly sang together in her car.  I am equally awesome at both dancing and singing, in case you were wondering.  I am available with one Holly or another for your go-go dancer and/or lounge act needs.

Gah!  This has gotten so long that I cannot even bring myself to read back through it or attempt to fix this wonky formatting.  Because when I said I had ordered the catering ahead of time, what I meant was that I was going to order the catering ahead of time.  So there is that to do.  And packing!  Because unless your definition of packing includes having taken the suitcase out of the closet, then I have not yet begun to pack.

Have a great weekend everybody!  Pictures and stories (as allowed by "what happens in Vegas..." law) next week!

I nearly forgot to mention that I discovered via my referrers page that if you google "drunken embarrassment" I am apparently the eighth site you'll find.  Awesome!  And I haven't even been to Vegas yet!

My OCD required that I round out the week of daily posts. Sorry.

After reading this I had a strong craving for a McDonald’s cheeseburger, but then I read this.  Hoo boy, no thank you!

I was reading my Newsweek last night and there was a mention of Estes Kefauver.  I recognized the name, but had no idea why.  So today I googled him (why it did not occur to me to just go straight to Wikipedia, I cannot say) and am still not entirely sure why I know the name.  Sure, I took A LOT of classes that would lend themselves to mention of such a person (American Government & Politics, Legislative Politics, Executive Legislative Relations, the list goes ON AND ON) but specifically, I am not sure.  But it’s a memorable name, right?  Maybe if I had a name like Estes Kefauver, people would have a better chance of remembering me.  Because I am not terribly memorable.  No, it’s true.  People will introduce themselves to me repeatedly.  While I most likely do not remember their names, I do recall having met them.  Probably my wallflower tendencies are mostly to blame, or the fact that I am apparently rather nondescript.  Anyway, according to Wikipedia, Estes Kefauver ran for Senate against E.H. Crump, which is another really excellent name.  I would gladly pay an inadvisable amount of money for campaign swag featuring the names Kefauver and Crump.

Yet another word that I love?  Scurvy.  It is equally enjoyable said in a piratey voice or not.

And finally, want to know what one thing you could do that would be least likely of all things in the world to make me smile?  Tell me to smile.  Why do people do this?  Why?  Even if we haven’t personally met, I bet you suspect that I am not the most effusive person out there.  I am apparently “hard to read”.  So just because I am not actively smiling, this does not mean that I am sad/angry/upset.  I was just walking down the hall at work one day and someone passing by said to me “it’s not all that bad”.  So if I’m not grinning like an idiot while on my way to check the supply cabinet, it should be assumed that I think life is somehow not worth living?  As much as I love Steel Magnolias for its sheer I feel like crying for no particular reason, so please Sally Field give me an excuse goodness (“I’m fine, I’m fine!  I could run to Texas and back, but my daughter can’t!  She never coooooould!”) the part where Dolly Parton says “Smile!  It increases your face value!” makes me angry.  If you said that to me, I would probably punch you.  Don’t test me, Internet.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled silliness, already in progress.

Did you ever know anyone who started their sentences with, "not for nothing, but..."?  I don't understand that.  What does that mean?  I met this guy once, when I was living in NY and I was out at a bar with some friends.  He was a teacher from Hoboken, NJ and he started practically everything he said with "not for nothing, but..."  I found that extremely odd and more than a little irritating.  Did he do that in class?  "Not for nothing, but if a equals b and b equals c, then a equals c."  Or "Not for nothing, but the US has a bi-cameral legislature."  I don't remember what he taught.  Or maybe I didn't know in the first place.

Not for nothing, but I think Cary Grant was probably the sexiest man ever to have lived.  I've heard people compare George Clooney to him, and I'd say that's probably about as close as we're going to get.  George Clooney is the only straight actor I can think of to whom I would apply the adjective "debonair".

When I was walking the dogs one night last week, I got catcalled (catcalled at?) by two guys in a white Camaro.  Which made sense.  If you're going to go around yelling and whistling at random women, you'd want to do it from a Camaro.  Or a Trans-Am.

I got an email from a person trying to sell me something whose title was Relationship Manager.  I guess this was in reference to managing relationships with clients, but I could see this becoming a whole new career track.  Too busy to manage your own relationship?  Call on me, Lori Graham, Relationship Manager!  I would be very bad at this job, I think.

Someone got here last week by googling "her prettiness astounds me".  No joke here.  I just think that's a really nice phrase and it's stuck with me. 

I've signed up for NaNoWriMo.  Which, for those of you who don't know what that is and are too lazy to click on the link, means that I will be attempting along with thousands of people from around the world, to write a 50,000 word novel in the month of November.  This seems like a good idea since I lack self-discipline and therefore require a deadline to accomplish much of anything.  And really I have a lot of free time at work that I'm currently wasting and could be better using to write (I'd feel bad about this, except I get all of my work done and in a timely manner.  They need me there for when things come up, but I don't have nearly enough to fill the time.)  Plus there's a big NaNo group here in Austin, so it could be another way to meet people.  Writer people!

On the other hand, I am likely to chicken out of going to the events.  There's a kick-off party which would require me to willingly go solo to a purely social event and *gasp* talk to people I don't know!  I'm more likely to go to some of the write-ins since the idea is mostly to spend the time writing, not socializing.  The problem with that could be the current state of my computer.  The guy at CompUSA said it was randomly shutting down probably due to problems with the fan.  So I could pay $75 for a new fan or buy a little desk fan and point it at the computer.  This fan cost me $5 and seems to be working well so far, but may not be so practical for writing out in the world.  If I bring my own powerstrip will my fellow writers let me use 2 whole outlets for the computer/fan set-up?  Also, I tend to do my best (or most prolific anyway) writing late at night, which is not so compatible with my competing needs to be at work at 8:00 and also to get at least 7 hours of sleep.

In any case, I now have eight days to figure out what to write.  And, of course, there's the small matter of writing 1,700 words a day next month.  Maybe my main characters will start all of their sentences with "not for nothing, but", getting me a free four words with every line of dialogue!  Maybe they are two Relationship Managers riding around in a white Camaro shouting at women about their astounding prettiness while pretending to be Cary Grant and George Clooney!  Maybe this will be the WORST NOVEL EVER.

So, Internet...got a better idea?

If you are looking for rhyme and/or reason, this is not the post for you.

Well done, everybody!  You all exhibit excellent taste in the things and people you dislike.  And now, should I ever decide to give a party for all of us, I know exactly what we will not be listening to, watching, or eating.  We will avoid Waterworld and keep our eating noises politely to ourselves!  And we will be very careful about how we use the English language!  (You are truly people after my own heart.)  Lurkers may come to our party as well, but don't come crying to us if we have served food that makes you gag or put on your least favorite movie.  We had no way of knowing.

And now, I present (Please make a trumpet shape with your hand and do an intro here.  No, seriously.  I'LL WAIT.) The Random Round-Up!

On Friday night, I was watching Law & Order and the police used thermal imaging to find a suspect, which brought to my mind a Supreme Court case that I used to teach on back in DC, and wouldn't you know that Jack McCoy brought up that very same case to the judge!  And I was pretty excited about that!  And then I realized that this probably seals the deal on my status as a Hugely Geeky Person.  Then again, I was already watching Law & Order on a Friday night, so I suppose the ship of my coolness had already sailed.  (In my defense, Amy and I had very hiply and trendily dined out in hip and trendy SoCo earlier that evening.  Also, I don't care what you say, the Fourth Amendment is FASCINATING.  So there.)

Yesterday, late in the morning, I helped myself to a cup of coffee from the break room.  Coffee, which upon tasting, turned out to be very old and very bad.  But then I didn't go dump it out right away and I kept forgetting not to drink it and I would take a big gulp and then remember how bad it was but by then it was too late.  This happened several times.  Sometimes absent-mindedness is not all it's cracked up to be.

In an effort to finally make some friends already in this town, I have joined a community group through my church.  And I have my first friend date tomorrow!  You know what I mean.  The way that when you're trying to make a new friend it feels like you're asking them out and it's all awkward and weird at first.  But I got talking with these two girls, one of whom is also new in town and must have said three or four times how she didn't know anyone in town and missed her friends out of town before I finally worked up the nerve to say "hey, if you ever want to do something some time..."  So I am having coffee tomorrow night with two women who conveniently for me (see above re: absent-mindedness) are both named Jennifer.  I really ought to be able to retain the one name, particularly since I shouldn't have to remember not to drink my coffee.

Normally I buy my cubicle candybowl candy from Office Depot and lo, it is crappy.  Which works out well for me since I am not ever tempted to eat it.  But yesterday I bought Halloween candy and a pumpkin container for my desk, and I am thinking of requiring the engineers to say "Trick or Treat" before taking any.  Then I will guess their costumes.  Oooh!  I know!  You're a math geek!  The third one this morning! 

(My cube neighbor just stopped by for candy and said all on his own with no prompting from me that it is appropriate that I bought them Nerds.  I did not even do that on purpose.  I bought Nerds because I like them and they taste like fifth grade Saturdays at The Skatin' Place.  Also they had little bats on the boxes and I like my Halloween candy spooky-looking!)

(I am now officially adding "spooky" to my list of favorite words.  Which, by the way, also includes gelatinous, malevolent, ephemeral, lovely, frou-frou, skitter, liquid, whatnot, comical, eloquent, and fraught.  Also several more that I will think of just as soon as I post this.)

If the guy in the office near me doesn't stop repeatedly and loudly trying out all of the rings on his cell phone, I may just stuff it down his throat.  Or tell him that if he doesn't put it away right now, mister, it is going into my desk drawer and he can have it back at the end of the day.  And if it continues to be a problem, I will tell his mother that he is not allowed to bring it to class anymore.  DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?  Good, now everybody back to work.

This title is neither Fierce nor Making It Work.

Amy was out of town recently, leaving me with sole custody of the dogs.  Since they get very crazy at night without a walk or visit to the park, I finally tried my hand at walking Colby solo, despite the frightening knowledge that Colby is much stronger than I am.  But he was very good except when he saw one cat that I didn't see and practically ripped my arms out of the sockets trying to get at it.  There was also an older woman outside with her cat who said hello to us and when I mentioned that Colby would like to say hello to her cat, said "Oh, does he like cats?"  Yes, this 100 pound dog would like to make friends with your cat and have a play date.  What do you think? 

So then by the time I've walked Colby, it's getting late and there is still Feta to walk, so I decide maybe Feta and I should run part of the way.  Then we could go for a shorter and faster walk while still getting her tired enough to sleep the rest of the evening.  And Feta makes a good running buddy since she is so excited to be running!  And so confused when I slow down to a walk and she would still like to be running!  Please, let's run some more!  Wait, have I just admitted to the Internet that I can't run as far as the three legged puppy? 

We did this again last night while Amy was at work which fortunately induced both dogs to sleep all the way through Lori's Night of Reality Television Shame.  Why shame?  Because I am very sorry to tell you that I have started watching America's Next Top Model, something I swore I would never do.  But Project Runway was not on that one week when there was a 2 hour premier of ANTM and what was I to do?!?  I didn't want to watch this show because a) is that seriously the best title they could think of? and b) I can't stand Tyra Banks.  And yet I find that she is a train wreck from which I cannot look away.  Unlike my Jennifer Love Hewitt revulsion which compels me to avoid her at all costs, I am drawn to watch Tyra and despise her ever more.  So yes, I watched it last night and was very happy to see Miss I Don't Care That We All Have To Share One Bathroom, I Take A Full Hour To Shower So Deal With It get kicked off.  Deal with that, Monique.

Followed of course by Project Runway: The Reunion Hissyfit Special!  Which featured further evidence (as if we needed it) that Vincent is certifiably insane.  Did you see it when he completely flipped out and wanted to leave the show over a shirt of his that had been *gasp* machine washed?  "Do not send it to the fluff and fold," he screamed, "I WILL WEAR IT DIRTY!"  Vincent did not even have the good sense to be embarrassed about this after it was shown.  (Nor does he apparently realize that fluff and fold is The Best Invention Ever of All Time.  I miss you fluff and fold!)  And after all the Tyra, I have to say Heidi is seeming like the most sensible person of all time.  Oooh, and Cheaterpants came back to insist that he was framed!  The cheatery books were confiscated when he got to NY and Someone put them in his room without his knowledge.  Perhaps the Vast Right-Wing Conspiracy?  And next week: drama ensues when Laura accuses Jeffrey either of cheating or literally of pulling crafstmanship out of his ass.  Hard to say.

Moving right along.  Maybe it's time to step away from the puppy, turn off the television and GO GROCERY SHOPPING ALREADY.

Now that is some serious bachelor fridge.  It's possible that we also have to occasionally dust the kitchen table.  (Although Amy astutely pointed out that we wouldn't have to dust the table if we could just remember not to ever touch it.  It's the fingerprints that give the dust away.) 

Don't worry about us though, we have chocolate chips.  And margaritas!

And a busted laptop which keeps shutting itself off in apparent protest of the broadband.  So most likely after I take it to Best Buy there will be no time for grocery shopping since I must be home by 7:30 for Lori's Night of Shameless TV Joy, featuring: The Office, Grey's Anatomy, and Luka (which some of you may know as ER.)

While Amy was gone, I was also feeding the dogs (obviously) and have decided that this sign on top of Colby's food container contains the exact phrase that Colby would choose were he able to communicate one and only one message to the world:

Seriously people, feed me.  Or let me at that cat.

Woe is me & etc.

NOTE: Written and posted last Friday.  But it seemed time to have something else at the top, so I'm moving this one up.  New post coming tomorrow...

So that [Tell me something good] post wasn't intended as an Affirm Me for the Love of God exercise.  I really thought more of you would just tell me jokes or delightful anecdoes.  Not that I am complaining about the nice comments.  You really are very sweet, Internet people.  What you didn't see (but are about to!) is what happened after I left work just after posting the Lamest Post in the History of Posts.  Crabby, crabby, crabby with a little bit of crazy thrown in for good measure!

I was sitting at an intersection when I saw a person coming around with a bucket collecting donations.  I've seen kids here before collecting for youth groups or football teams and my reaction yesterday was, "In my day, we did real fundraisers."  Which got me wondering, when exactly did I turn one hundred years old?  In MY DAY?!?!

This ocurred as I was on my way home from Target after discovering that apparently when I was off not paying attention, society had come together and decided that we were no longer using leave in conditioner in spray form.  (You wanna dance, Society?  I will meet you at the bike racks after school and you had better bring it!)  Because while I sort of randomly started using the Thermasilk leave in conditioner spray a few years ago, running out of it has clearly demonstrated that my hair REQUIRES the leave in conditioner in spray (not gel!) form in order to do that voodoo that it do so...ok, not well, but also not staticky and stuck to my face or limp, dead, and dirty-looking.  In three entire aisles of hair products, I came across only one bottle of spray leave in conditioner, it being Dove.  (I haven't tried it yet since today I am sporting an oh-crap-I-snoozed-too-many-times ponytail.  Yes, I am a grown up person wearing a ponytail to work.  Shut up.)  I also picked up a new hair dryer since I killed yet another one.  I am the Hannibal Lechter of hair dryers.  Except not, because I don't eat them.

And finally, on to what I almost did eat, namely Pop Tarts for breakfast.  Except I didn't buy them since my justification for buying unhealthy breakfast treats did not hold up so well upon examination.  The thing is, I've been losing weight recently, not due to any extra self-control or exertion on my part so much as just not having been particularly hungry for about a month.  (Before anyone freaks out, allow me to say that I swear, I am still eating.  Just not so damn much all the time.)  So the new jeans that I just bought are already getting fairly roomy.  And as I stared at the Pop Tarty goodness, I thought to myself, "hey if I bought Pop Tarts, maybe my jeans would fit again!"  Which, allow me to say myself, is some screwed up thinking.  And then I backed away from the Pop Tarts.

And now, thanks to good Internet mojo, it being Friday afternoon, and that nectar of the gods known as Free Diet Dr. Pepper, I am feeling much better. 

The End.

Think of me what you will

I’ve got a lot of time to kill.  And oh so little to tell you, Internet.  But it is only now 3:00 and I have two entire hours to go before I can leave my frigid little cubicle of tedium.  I therefore present this random list of the things that have recently been going through my head:

1. I saw President Bush on TV last night talking to Brian Williams.  His summer reading list, he said, even included “two Shakespeares”.  That’s right, our Commander in Chief has read not one, but two entire Shakespeares.  God help us, that man is in charge for two more years.

2. Project Runway.  I can’t decide who I like this year.  I do know for certain that I am not a fan of Neck Tattoo Guy or Whiny Rectangle Glasses Guy or Angela.  So far I’m rooting for Michael or Uli.  You people may not be aware that I wield enormous power over these things.  My picks almost always win the reality shows (Chloe!  The Hippies!  The Geniuses!) so it’s vital that I make up my mind and soon.  And correctly.

3. If only that worked for football.  Because, wow.  Packers.  So sad.

4. At my last temp job, I filed some invoices from Ms. Frankie Champagne.  Which may just be the best name ever.  Even better than Saxby Chambliss, in my opinion.

5. I recently tried the Lean Cuisine Chicken Club Panini, which I cannot recommend strongly enough.  So I bought some at HEB and received a coupon for $2 off 7 of them.  And when I used that, I got a coupon for $2 off 10 of them!  Where will it end?  I kind of want to keep buying them and using the coupons just to see how many Lean Cuisine Panini they think a person will buy just to redeem a $2 coupon.

6. Do you ever sort of forget how old you are?  You’re thinking of yourself as a certain age and then you’re shocked to remember that you are in fact much older.  I ask because this happens to me.  I made a decision around my 25^th Birthday that I would not like to turn 25 and would therefore remain 24 until I could no longer pass for it.  And I’m afraid that I have somehow mentally bought this idea, surprising myself now and again with my actual age.  And yet, with 2 ½ weeks yet to go before my Birthday, I keep thinking of myself as 29 already.  What is up with that?

7. I had a friend who told me about a party she went to where the theme was “Come dressed up as what you wanted to be when you were a kid.”  Apparently, the party throwers were just out of college and looking for ideas about what to be now that they had grown up.  I would go to this party as a cowboy/princess.  Which could make for an interesting costume.  How about you?

8. It’s Labor Day coming up.  Probably I should not be allowed to observe this holiday since I spend my days not so much laboring as covertly reading blogs, but they’re not paying me for the day off, so I suppose it all evens out.  I have no plans (except perhaps some Passions viewing) but anything would be better than that Labor Day in 1994 when I came down with mono.  No matter how awful your Labor Day plans might seem, mono is not the answer (unless the question is, “What is the most miserable illness you have ever had, Lori?”)  I did have a boyfriend at the time, but he didn’t have mono, so I don’t think we can blame the kissing.

9. I just applied for the Best Job Ever, which would involve reading blogs as part of the job.  I would work overtime at that job.  For free. 

10. Did you ever see that movie Ten Things I Hate About You?  I did, on TV this weekend.  And it’s pretty good (and by “it” I mean Heath Ledger and by “good” I mean hot.)  Apparently it’s based on The Taming of the Shrew, so maybe I’ll take the President’s lead and read me a Shakespeare!  Just one Shakespeare though.  I don’t have the kind of time on my hands that the Leader of the Free World apparently does.

Mother of pearl, it is only now 3:43! 

Remember back at the beginning when I used to spend hours writing and editing these things, making sure they were pieces of comedic literary art?  No?  Well I do, and apparently those days have come to an end, kids. I thereby deem this stream of schlock a Post and put it right up on the interweb next to my photo of authorial pensiveness. 

And if I don’t die of hypothermia by 5:00 maybe I’ll actually write you a little something later.

Because I know that you people cannot live without perpetual updates on my terribly interesting life

1. On Thursday night, Amy and I did Free Fun Austin Thing #4 (ish) by attending the free musical in Zilker Park, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.  I'd seen it before and they did a good job.  The temperature even dropped below three hundred degrees by the time they started.  The only problem being how that "Sobbin' Women" song stays in my head for days and days after I see that show.  Or even hear the title of it.  Or blog about it.  Gaaah!

2. I finished receptionisting at noon on Friday and we headed to San Antonio for our friends' softball game.  We wanted to go to a game and selected this one since it was the last one of the season and we could no longer procrastinate.  Our friends won in what might have been a very exciting game, had the opposing team's pitcher gotten the ball in the vicinity of the plate with any regularity.

3. Then on Saturday, I discovered that one of the ants that had been crawling on my feet at said softball game had, in fact, stung me on my right Achilles tendon, leaving me by Saturday walking around with one big red puffy...cankle.  Yes, an itchy stingy unattractively large cankle which I was then forced to cover with long pants when leaving the house despite the fact that it has been 287 degrees outside.  Today my leg seems to have returned to its traditional configuration wherein one can clearly see the distinction between calf and heel.  Thank goodness.

4. And throughout all of this madness, I have been on Obsessive Cell Phone Watch of Early August 2006 due to a resume that I mailed out (Yes, mailed!  With a stamp and everything!  On pretty pretty resume paper with guaranteed perfect formatting due to the not emailing!) on Friday for a position which we will call The Perfect Job for Lori.  Because not only do I really REALLY want this job, I meet each and every last qualification that they had.  Of course, since mailing it, I have realized that the cover letter that I wrote is just wrong, wrong, wrong.  The subsequent cover letter that I have composed in my head is so perfect that not only would the purveyors of The Prefect Job for Lori have called by now, it would have been to say "let's just skip the interview and you can start work tomorrow because you are so incredibly perfect for this job." and I would have said "Yes, of course and I KNOW!"  Except they only have the stupid old cover letter of sucky suckitude, so we shall see.

5. The temp AA job is exactly as keeping-track-of-lots-of-things-intensive as I had feared.  And people, THERE IS JUST NO WAY.

That is all.

Things that make you go RAT BASTARD!

ITEM ONE: Let's say that you are finally getting around to hooking up the printer/copier/scanner/fax that you got for Christmas.  Things are going along swimmingly until you get to instruction #19, "Connect the USB cable to the computer and to the All-In-One."  But where is the USB cable?  It is not on the shelf where you unpacked all of the stuff.  It is not in the box in the garage.  You begin to assume that you have somehow lost it despite the fact that you have never carried any piece or part of the All-In-One anywhere except those two places.  Then you call the number on the instructions and wait several hours on hold before being told that no, the All-In-One does not come with a USB cable.  So instruction #19 really ought to read "Connect A USB cable" not "THE USB cable" and instruction #1 really ought to be "Get in your car and drive back to the store to shell out an additional $10-20 for a USB cable since the All-In-One is not compatible with any of the USB cables currently in your possession.  Sucker!"  (Item One, part B: the shoddy velcro on the Dell notebook carrying case which does not in fact hold together, allowing your  external CD-ROM drive to fall out and break such that when you finally get the All-In-One assembled and connected to your computer, it will not read the CD anyway.)

ITEM TWO: If you have recently found yourself, between the hours of midnight and one a.m., angrily scrawling a note reading "if you use the toilet and it doesn't flush, please plunge it or at least warn me so I can do it before I am trying to go to bed" you deserve a) a nap since clearly you've had a bit of a rough evening, and b) a big pat on the back for the rather remarkable restraint you showed by not using any foul language at all or including the phrase, "especially when you're the one who has most likely caused the clog by flushing the hair from the shower drain, or more accurately by throwing the hair from the shower drain into the toilet and leaving it floating there so that your roommate will encounter it first thing in the morning and assume every single time that it is instead a large bug."  You do realize, 11 hours later, that perhaps the angry note was ill-advised since you fervently hope that your roommate somehow did not notice either by sight or hearing that the toilet had not flushed because you'd rather think you weren't living with the sort of person who would knowingly put you in the situation of having to surprise plunge a clog that was not of your own making, but writing it sure was cathartic at the time.

On the other hand, in Things that make you go WHEW or possibly even YAY! news, we found a house in Austin that we like a lot and have applied for the opportunity to rent it and, should we be approved, we will go and sign a lease on it sometime soon!  And then we will move in less than two weeks!  So I'd better go pack things now.

It's time for a few small repairs, she said.

This was the song lyric which inspired my college friend Marissa to chop off her long hair into a very short pixie thing, much to the chagrin of her then-boyfriend now-husband/baby daddy.  We all thought that it was sort of odd, given the fact that that Sheryl Crow song about a change doing you good was really big at the time and seemed more likely to inspire a relationship-threatening haircut than, say, a song about arson.  And yet it is what popped into my own head during my own recent impuslive change-o-rama.

There I was, a week ago Saturday just watching some TLC.  The night before, Melissa and I had done some looking at some new bedding, mostly just to kill some time, with the result that I decided everything was far too expensive and I would definitely wait until after the move and a new job.  After all, I had been perfectly content with my college graduation gift quilt for over seven years now.  I could wait another month.  And then on Saturday I realized that I MUST have new bedding.  Immediately.

Before I could even get out of the house to commence shopping, I had another revelation.  I NEEDED to cut my hair.  Off.  As soon as possible.  I should mention that I was under the influence of several episodes of What Not to Wear and deep in the realization that Nick Arrojo would SO not approve of my current hair.  (Not that I think Clinton and Stacy would approve of my vast collection of Old Navy plain-colored t-shirts, but until they arrive at my door with a $5,000 debit card, there's not much to be done about that.  And if they didn't think that I would spend all $5,000 in H&M on day 1 and require two cabs just to cart all of that inexpensive goodness back to my hotel, they would be sorely mistaken.)

Anyway, I called the salon and made an appointment with Melissa's stylist for today (10 days later!) and then called Amy to go shopping with me to help me pick out the new coverlet.  Actually 2 different coverlets, which we bought, brought here, and put on the bed.  And the winner was:

The rest of the bedroom isn't all matchy since I'm moving next month and frankly, I didn't want to mess with trying to make the bed look all pretty and pillow-shammed for you people, so this is the picture you get.  (I should mention that this is a shot of one of the many small paisleys lest you think that my new coverlet consists of one giant paisley as that photo seems to imply.)

On to the hair, which is a little shorter than I had intended, but still good.

I realize that there really ought to be a Before shot here with me in my glasses and no make-up looking shiny and sad.  And yet, you're getting the shine in the After picture because I couldn't be bothered to touch up after the "5 minutes to get dressed, brush teeth, put on make-up and leave" routine.

And those are my small repairs.  (You know, aside from the whole quitting my job to move to a place where I know no one and hopefully getting a job in an entirely new field.)  Also, we are having a garage sale this Saturday so I'll be repairing the state of my overstuffed drawers, closet, and shoe rack.

In unrelated news, the Global Night Commute was a success, at least here in San Antonio with many, many people sleeping out in the grass at UTSA. 

We wrote letters to the President and our Senators and completed art projects for possible inclusion in a future book.  I don't hold out a lot of hope for mine since it was completed entirely using two flipchart markers accidentally pilfered from a former employer.  And we had to use our pillows as our work surfaces, which really doesn't result in impressive art.  And if, when the book comes out, some of the entries look really awesome, then I will assume that those people cheated and did their art at home.  Here is a picture of our little group, hard at work:

If you want to help out, you can still go here and donate or purchase a hand-made bracelet.  I'd also like to mention for plugging purposes that just before the GNC, I attended a release party for a CD that I highly recommend.  Plus I just think the phrase I attended a CD release party makes me sound cool.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go and mess with my new hair while listening to my new CD in my new green bedroom.

Important Update

Ok, not really "important" but you're reading, so my catchy hook worked!  Except why would you be here if not to read?

Anyway, it turns out that if you procrastinate whining about your sunburn until 4 days after it has occurred, by the next day it will have mostly faded to a pinkish-brown and moved into the Itchy Phase.  I am very hopeful that tomorrow will bring an end of the days of the lukewarm shower (I don't know who Luke was, but he must have been one room temperature guy!  Ba-dum-bum.)  I did finally sleep well last night, which is good timing considering that I leave tomorrow for two nights of camping.  So I can get two nights of decent sleep in before two nights of trying to somehow curve my body around all of the many rocks trying to lodge their way painfully into my ribs.  At least this has been my previous camping experience.  Maybe this time will be like sleeping on air and I will awake rested and refreshed!  But probably not.

In positive news, a student today told me both that I look way too young to be 25 (I didn't lie and tell her that I am 25, Internet!  That's the age that she guessed yet also thought I looked much younger than!) and when describing an extremely, shockingly thin woman said, "even skinnier than you!"  God bless that girl.  It sort of made up for a heartwarming moment gone bad a few weeks ago with a different student.  A 7 year-old boy I work with reached up to touch my face and said "so pretty."  Which was the moment that I flashed back to when, minutes later, I caught him picking his nose.  So that one was a little tainted.  Not to mention (except I am mentioning!) all of the unwitting insults you get from the special kids.  For example:

"Your hair looks like a noodle." 

"Old people wear their glasses like this." (pulls glasses down nose)  "Why don't you wear your glasses like this?" 

Teenage boy using vocabulary word maroon in a sentence, "You have a maroon spot" (points to zit on my chin.) 

"Your forehead is shiny.  I want my forehead to be shiny like that."  Well, little one, give it a few years.

And I close this smorgasbord of randomness with a delightful anecdote about cereal!  Earlier I was noticing on the box of Target Brand Frosted Shredded Wheat how there was a picture of the cereal in milk and underneath the picture it said Serving Suggestion.  And I very prissily thought well how else are you going to eat Frosted Shredded Wheat aside from in a bowl with milk?  At which time I realized that the reason I was looking at the box was because it was sitting on my desk because I had just been eating the dry cereal directly out of it.  Which got me thinking about how Jennie and I would have been millionaires by now if we'd only gone through with the plan to publish our diet book. 

When we moved into our apartment in New York, we had an ancient little fridge which waited until right after we'd gotten groceries to stop working and take all of our perishables down with it.  This process was repeated after repairs to that fridge, its slightly newer replacement, and the fridge that came after that one.  So we spent a lot of time with no functional fridge at all and began to subsist entirely on Frosted Mini Wheats.  To the extent that we were shocked, SHOCKED that we didn't win the trip to Disney World on the box.  Because no one could have possibly ingested more Frosted Mini Wheats that summer than Jennie and I.   The all dry Mini Wheat diet, plus the fourth floor walk-up apartment equaled stunning weight loss for both of us and we thought we'd make our fortune off the No Refrigerator Diet.  And yet here I am giving our lucrative secrets away for free.  Unplug the fridge.  Eat the Mini Wheats (you are allowed pretzels dipped in mustard or plain pasta as well) and walk really unreasonably quickly everywhere you go.  Pretend that frenzied New Yorkers are closing in around you or that you are the professor of a class that's just about to start except that you haven't even gotten on the subway yet!  The pounds will melt away.

Don't say I never gave you anything.

Laundry Day

I am currently wearing jeans with a big hole ripped in the knee.  And my left knee is feeling so retro!  Remember?  Remember when we would wear ripped jeans out of the house and not only because all of our other jeans were in the washing machine?  Because we thought it was cool?  Back in high school, I worked at the Finish Line, where I spent a lot of time kneeling on my left knee while lacing up shoes and was constantly wearing out the left knees in my jeans.  (Gap jeans!  Because I was 16 and had tons of disposable income!  I haven't even looked at non-Old Navy jeans since I can remember.)  Of course, that was before it was deemed unprofessional for bored teenagers to sell shoes while wearing jeans and we were forced to begin wearing the left knees out of far more professional khakis.  Which sucked because you couldn't wear ripped khakis with your grunge-tastic flannel from Farm & Fleet!  Eddie Vedder would so not approve.

Come to think of it, I remember very recently seeing some pre-shredded jeans for sale at Old Navy and thinking I thought we as a society had come to a consensus whereby we would no longer pay full-price for ripped jeans.  Apparently not.  Apparently I had given society far too much credit.  Which really shouldn't surprise me since this is the very same society that is responsible for the commercial success of Cheez Whiz and the continued career of Jennifer Love Hewitt.  And do not even get me started on those stupid rubber flip flops with kitten heels!

And now I realize that I have stooped to posting about the state of my laundry day wardrobe.  Which, allow me to say would not be nearly so dire had I not spilled coffee yesterday on my last clean pair of jeans, which I assume was punishment for stopping at Starbucks despite the fact that I was already running over 30 minutes late.  But I HAD to.  Because I didn't have my afternoon coffee and I was getting a headache because I am an addict.  And yes, I've gotten all the way to recognizing the problem and have refused to do anything about it because it's a one cup a day habit and I can totally live with that.  And if it weren't for the shoddy workmanship of the Starbucks iced coffee lid, we wouldn't even be having this rather stream-of-consciousness-y one-sided conversation.

So blame Starbucks or thank Starbucks or whatever.  I have to go change the laundry.

Conspiracy Theories

Three in particular which have recently come to my attention.  These might have gotten past the less astute observers among us, but my finely tuned sixth sense for evil-doers picked right up on these blatant and heartless schemes.

First, I present the case of my co-workers and their not-so-hidden message.  For Christmas, I received "fun" socks from not one, but two of my co-workers.  This may seem harmless and even thoughtful since many of the people at work are pediatric therapists and spend a lot of time running around in their socks.  So they like their socks to be cute.  I received one pair of socks with large blue whales and one pair with frogs and the words "Hop to it!" sewn in.  Awwwww...cute, right?  I was not fooled, Internet!  I see the message.  "You are fat (as a whale) and lazy (Hop to it!) and we, your co-workers,  have chosen to convey this message through the medium of novelty socks."  WWSD, people?  What would Santa do?

Our second conspiracy revolves around the phenomenon known as "stretch denim."  This, at first, seemed like a boon to a person such as myself who suffers from Flat Butt Syndrome, in which there may be plenty of fat on the body and yet the trunk area is disproportionately lacking in junk.  So your traditional denim, cut to fit your glutto-typical woman, tends to hang off the butt in an unsightly manner.  But this stretch denim, it does not hang!  That is, for the first...oh let's be generous and say three minutes of wearing.  At which point the stretch properties go into overdrive.  And the entire jean becomes stretched to the point of actually falling down, making the average woman think My jeans are super roomy and therefore I've clearly lost weight without even dieting and can continue to eat any damn thing I please!  Old Navy, funded by the snack cake and toaster pastry industries, has clearly tried to pull one over on us.

Bringing me to my third, and most devious group of conspirators: Girl Scouts.  You're all "we're cute and enterprising and live by the Girl Scout law."  Oh really, Girl Scouts?  Does that law not include anything about the evils of high pressure sales?  Have you no moral obligation to divulge your overwhelming share of the responsibility for America's obesity epidemic?  You know perfectly well that you produce three distinct varieties of cookie so identical in their deliciousness that the people whom you pledge to "help at all times" are paralyzed by indecision and forced to shell out for each and every one.  This trifecta of tastiness (Samoas, Tagalongs, and Thin Mints) not only has a going rate of $9, but also contains the suggested daily caloric intake of the continent of Asia.  I will sic Oliver Stone on your sash faster than you can say "cookie badge."  Unless of course you'll throw in the Thin Mints for free.  I mean, you said yourselves that they're thin, so it's almost like they don't even exist.  But they are soooooo good from the freezer.  And I've got a little extra room in these here stretch jeans.

In no particular order

1. If you insist on having the Jesus is Alive sticker that covers your entire rear window, please don't drive like an idiot.  Thank you.

2. Why is it that when I'm cracking eggs, I sterilize my hands and all surfaces as if I have been handling small pox spores, and yet will lick the egg-licious batter right out of the bowl?

3. What are the chances that I've contracted the bird flu from the aforementioned behavior?

4. A note to all of you professional sports commentators out there: "fastly" is not a word.  Pass it on.

5. Target already has egg nog for sale.  Because Target, with the advent of it's $1 spot had not, in fact, discovered the last remaining way to suck even more money out of my pockets.  Now they are offering me high-fat holiday beverages on November 1.  Curse you Target and your bag of tricks!

6. Overheard at the Fall Ball: "I'm having another piece of pizza because apparently I just love to be fat!"  Awesome.