Yeah...about this...
Okay. So. Today was the last meeting for the semester in one of my classes. Joyous day, right? Right. Well, added to the fact that on gchat a friend and the bf kept sending me things that either made me laugh or smile. (Side note: do not lecture me on how I shouldn't be online during class. You are completely correct. I should not. Call me a dare devil. Or a 24-year old with self-diagnosed ADD. You make the call.)
Let me preface by saying some fun facts about me and my laughing habits.
1) If I see something funny, I laugh;
2) If I hear something funny, I laugh;
3) If I see and/or hear something funny that is inappropriate or at an inappropriate time I will laugh.
3) (a) Most likely it will be an uncontrollable laugh
3) (b) Most likely it will include tears and convulsing
4) If I think about any of these occurrences, especially at an inappropriate time, I have a giggle fit and/or laugh attack, however you like to categorize.
Back to my story. So not only was I chipper due to my completely non-stealth gchat conversations, my professor made a comment that will forever make me laugh. We went around the room to discuss how we're constructing our final papers. One classmate shared hers, and the prof said, "Ah, yes, oral things are really pleasing."
I mean...it was hard enough to not scream "That's what she said!"
Should I put that into context or make you think about it for a minute? I'm gonna go ahead and let you think about it. So, Reflect. Simmer. Enjoy.
Ahem...
So. Not only did she open her comment with that, it continued to EXAMPLES. I had to immediately avert my eyes. But that was nearly impossible for I was trapped, I tell you! Trapped. We sit in a circle in class. If I would've looked at someone I would've lost it. I looked at the ceiling. Too obvious, though - you could probably see my eyes glistening in the fluorescent lights as I tried to hold back tears. In a split second I looked to the floor, but that wasn't a wise decision, either, because I was afraid a tear would actually spill out, thus opening the flood gates. I went to gchat, my only solace, as I typed in a frenzy to anyone I could of what just happened.
I probably looked somewhat crazy due to my sudden, paranoid movements but what could I do? I held my breath and waited for her to change the topic. My face luckily faded from red to pale as we switched conversation to the next victim in class. Kudos to her: I would've laughed had I had to speak. So pretty much the next time I'm in class or Mass or any other venue when I shouldn't laugh, I will most likely look back on this and have a giggle fit.
Oh we were talking about cooking and eating, which is how our conversation went from a normal to an oral fashion.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
You Know You're a Fat Kid When...
Well hello. I suck at posting. I’ve discussed this before, but I mean really. I haven’t written anything in a month. Too many things happened to me during this time. From midterm panic attacks, to traveling to Atlanta and Ohio, Halloween silliness, new boy (!!!), getting involved in DRAMA, organizing my life, etc. , I have had ample opportunities to rant or rave. Instead of any of those noteworthy events inspiring me to put my thoughts into words, I sat idly by, wasting my life away with reading and catching up on trashy television. What changed today, you ask? Well it’s simple, really. I ate a cookie.
Yep. I had the most delicious, mouth-watering cookie I have quite possibly ever consumed. THIS was my reason for writing in my blog today. I am sitting in a completely silent area of the old business school in my building “reading” for school (aka gchatting). When I took a bite, though, I had…a moment. I hope the married man by his laptop didn't catch a glimpse of me as I looked down at the cookie in amazement. It was love at first bite, friends. It was an Oreo cookie. Not the cookie from Nabisco, silly. It is a decadent concoction from the deli across the street. I will dream about this cookie and all of its savory goodness. I will walk past the deli every day and force myself to keep walking instead of buying more cookies of pleasure again. And yet, here I sit in this lounge of learning. I had to stop what I was doing to write in my blog about a stupid cookie.
It’s time to reevaluate my life. Or, time to go for a run.
Yep. I had the most delicious, mouth-watering cookie I have quite possibly ever consumed. THIS was my reason for writing in my blog today. I am sitting in a completely silent area of the old business school in my building “reading” for school (aka gchatting). When I took a bite, though, I had…a moment. I hope the married man by his laptop didn't catch a glimpse of me as I looked down at the cookie in amazement. It was love at first bite, friends. It was an Oreo cookie. Not the cookie from Nabisco, silly. It is a decadent concoction from the deli across the street. I will dream about this cookie and all of its savory goodness. I will walk past the deli every day and force myself to keep walking instead of buying more cookies of pleasure again. And yet, here I sit in this lounge of learning. I had to stop what I was doing to write in my blog about a stupid cookie.
It’s time to reevaluate my life. Or, time to go for a run.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Library Tales, Part I
Who doesn't love a good nerd post, right? Right.
Alrighty. So. I have a favorite spot in the library because it's by a window with an outlet and a comfy chair. It's also in the quiet section, which is the main draw. I love a good distraction, but noise is not one of them. I can manage just fine with a window and a computer. And a phone. And an iTouch. And the snack area a mere stone's throw away on this floor. Annnnyway...
One fine Wednesday, aka a big reading day for me, I got all cozy in my chair, plugged in my Mac and was just about to start getting my read on, when I overheard a conversation. Directly behind me were three ladies, all of which had valley girl accents. Lovely. Their "whispering" was so distracting I couldn't help but overhear. Let's call them Moron 1, 2, and 3.
M1: "I dunno you guyz, like, I totally heard that if you tan before you're 24 you're, like, more likely to get skin cancer."
M2: "Oh no, but I have to, like you don't even understand."
M1: "Ugh, I know, but you guyz, like, I don't want us to get cancer. I think I'm worried."
M3: "Yeah, but you guyz, I mean, like, pale people are ugly though."
M1: "So true. I haven't tanned in a whole day and I'm all, like, ugly and stuff."
M3: "No, you like don't even understand. I have fair skin with freckles. There's like nothing uglier than that."
Interesting on many levels, don't you think? Let's deconstruct. First of all, I of course, *like*, think about myself in situations such as this. Turn those tables, if you will. They weren't talking about me, buuuuut yeah. I'm pale. I am what M3 described: fair skin. Check. Freckles. Check. And thank you, I am beautiful. I don't mean to boast. Tan people are pretty, pale people are pretty...can't we all just get along? I don't knock people who tan at all. I wish I COULD tan. Some of my best and closest friends tan. That's not the point I'm trying to make. The point is to not make us feel like we're outcasts in society. We. Can't. Help. It.
Also, Skin Cancer is serious, and I don't want to get into why I'm very passionate about it, so good for M1 for at least voicing this to her friends. Okay, off my soap box.
Second: ladies, ladies, ladies. I don't have to look at you to know what you look like. I didn't notice you when I walked in because I was too focused on the coffee I just bought. But it doesn't take a genius. At this point, I'm picturing three attractive ladies in their 20s, probably 20 and sophomores in undergrad. I'm picturing one with obvious highlights (unlike my own. Mine are incredible.) who is sporting pink Soffe cheerleading shorts with a tight t-shirt and flip flops. Another with Victoria's Secret Pink sweatpants, white v-neck t-shirt, curly brown hair in a messy ponytail, and flip flops. The third is wearing a jean skirt, hoody, and Uggs. Just generalizations.
Third and most important: I heard that people who go here are smart. You three sound just so very young. And just, well, silly. When this happened I posted on my gChat status a brief description of what went down and I received many a chat about how those three sound like morons. So I'm not alone in this.
Admittedly, after a few minutes they started talking about Physics. So ooooook, I guess they have brains. But, since it's a Liberal Arts school and you can't just take Physics here, I overheard another conversation. M3 asked of her tan friends, "Is, like, Guatemala a country?" Oh man.
Needless to say, when they walked away to go to the dining hall for dinner, I looked over my pale and freckled shoulder to witness the three musketeers. Sure enough, there was indeed a pair of Pink sweats. Man I'm good.
When they returned after dinner they were almost louder if that was possible. They turned to talking about boys at that point. I was happy to depart for class.
Next time on Library Tales: Dude cracks up watching YouTube, a girl next to me in the silent section Skypes, and I write another post to avoid reading. Stay tuned!!!!
Alrighty. So. I have a favorite spot in the library because it's by a window with an outlet and a comfy chair. It's also in the quiet section, which is the main draw. I love a good distraction, but noise is not one of them. I can manage just fine with a window and a computer. And a phone. And an iTouch. And the snack area a mere stone's throw away on this floor. Annnnyway...
One fine Wednesday, aka a big reading day for me, I got all cozy in my chair, plugged in my Mac and was just about to start getting my read on, when I overheard a conversation. Directly behind me were three ladies, all of which had valley girl accents. Lovely. Their "whispering" was so distracting I couldn't help but overhear. Let's call them Moron 1, 2, and 3.
M1: "I dunno you guyz, like, I totally heard that if you tan before you're 24 you're, like, more likely to get skin cancer."
M2: "Oh no, but I have to, like you don't even understand."
M1: "Ugh, I know, but you guyz, like, I don't want us to get cancer. I think I'm worried."
M3: "Yeah, but you guyz, I mean, like, pale people are ugly though."
M1: "So true. I haven't tanned in a whole day and I'm all, like, ugly and stuff."
M3: "No, you like don't even understand. I have fair skin with freckles. There's like nothing uglier than that."
Interesting on many levels, don't you think? Let's deconstruct. First of all, I of course, *like*, think about myself in situations such as this. Turn those tables, if you will. They weren't talking about me, buuuuut yeah. I'm pale. I am what M3 described: fair skin. Check. Freckles. Check. And thank you, I am beautiful. I don't mean to boast. Tan people are pretty, pale people are pretty...can't we all just get along? I don't knock people who tan at all. I wish I COULD tan. Some of my best and closest friends tan. That's not the point I'm trying to make. The point is to not make us feel like we're outcasts in society. We. Can't. Help. It.
Also, Skin Cancer is serious, and I don't want to get into why I'm very passionate about it, so good for M1 for at least voicing this to her friends. Okay, off my soap box.
Second: ladies, ladies, ladies. I don't have to look at you to know what you look like. I didn't notice you when I walked in because I was too focused on the coffee I just bought. But it doesn't take a genius. At this point, I'm picturing three attractive ladies in their 20s, probably 20 and sophomores in undergrad. I'm picturing one with obvious highlights (unlike my own. Mine are incredible.) who is sporting pink Soffe cheerleading shorts with a tight t-shirt and flip flops. Another with Victoria's Secret Pink sweatpants, white v-neck t-shirt, curly brown hair in a messy ponytail, and flip flops. The third is wearing a jean skirt, hoody, and Uggs. Just generalizations.
Third and most important: I heard that people who go here are smart. You three sound just so very young. And just, well, silly. When this happened I posted on my gChat status a brief description of what went down and I received many a chat about how those three sound like morons. So I'm not alone in this.
Admittedly, after a few minutes they started talking about Physics. So ooooook, I guess they have brains. But, since it's a Liberal Arts school and you can't just take Physics here, I overheard another conversation. M3 asked of her tan friends, "Is, like, Guatemala a country?" Oh man.
Needless to say, when they walked away to go to the dining hall for dinner, I looked over my pale and freckled shoulder to witness the three musketeers. Sure enough, there was indeed a pair of Pink sweats. Man I'm good.
When they returned after dinner they were almost louder if that was possible. They turned to talking about boys at that point. I was happy to depart for class.
Next time on Library Tales: Dude cracks up watching YouTube, a girl next to me in the silent section Skypes, and I write another post to avoid reading. Stay tuned!!!!
Saturday, September 19, 2009
I'm Happy My Procrastinating Skills Are Following Me to Grad School
Well hello friends. I know it's been a while. Not gonna lie, I just re-read my previous post from, oh, over a month ago, and chuckled. I'm a witty little gal sometimes.
The reason I haven't written in a while is due to a few foreseen obstacles, which I shall name and explain in further detail.
1) I started graduate school. Clearly I have work to do now that I'm all about using my brain again. It's weird that when I wake up I have to take an Aleve for my headaches. My brain will get used to this change soon I hope. Honestly I love school and my new friends. I'm taking three classes, two of which are so incredible that I get excited to work on projects and go to class to discuss interesting topics. The third one kind of sucks but at least the projects are cool. I ALMOST feel smart again. Having a bunch of second years in my classes keeps me grounded. Oh and I'm incredibly inarticulate and they all sound smart. You know what I mean? I know I'm smart, but I don't SOUND it. It's annoying. I bought this book one time called "100 Words That Will Make You Sound Smart." Maybe I should crack that sucka open every once in a while. I feel like it will take me far.
2) Okay there really isn't a #2. I just feel better when I number things.
Honestly I haven't thought about anything to write in a while. I'm actually working on my academic online portfolio (aka academic blog) which means I can't say things like, "I'm a witty little gal sometimes."
Okay, so what should I write about? How the stereotypes at my school are fairly accurate? How I try to fit in sometimes and look like a preppy jerk? How when I get sick of trying to fit in I just wear workout clothes to class? How I go to the gym to see the eye candy, willing those boys playing shirts & skins basketball to be 24 or older? How the smoker next to me (I'm sitting outside Starbucks right now because it's a gorgeous day) needs to move away from me and perhaps apologize for endangering my lovely lungs? Nah. I'll talk about a recent experience and relate it to the world. That sounds good. Great topic. Going global.
Alright, so I'm unemployed. I love it. Or do I just love living off student loans? It's a toss-up. Anywho, I decided to go for a nice bike ride one pretty morning this week. I figured I'd go around 9 because most people would be at work by then. I was wrong, but whatever. The path to the Potomac was lovely anyway. Seriously, I know it's gross and I would NEVER do the Nations Triathlon because I want to bear children in the (very very VERY distant) future...BUT the Potomac River is quite pretty from a distance. And, on such a sunny, breezy, 65 degree morning it was rather tranquil. Until I popped a tire. Aaaaaand all zen moments were gone. Imagine any and all remarks flying out of my mouth as I slowed to a wobbly stop. Admittedly I should have learned how to change a tire. I was miles away from home and far from a bus stop. At least I had money with me. Honestly I never bring my wallet on rides, but thank goodness I did. I also had a tube and tools to change my tire and OH MY GOSH MOVE AWAY FROM ME SMOKER! DID YOU JUST EXHALE IN MY GENERAL DIRECTION?!?!?! TAKE YOUR PLATO BOOK AND YOUR CANCER STICKS ELSEWHERE!!!!!!
Where was I? Oh right. So as I'm about to start crying, a Good Samaritan (GS) passed me. He asked if I needed help and I graciously accepted his offer. He changed my tire. A police officer even stopped to make sure things were cool. Which they were. Zen moments were returning as I basked in the glow of their hearts of gold.
Unfortunately the yuppie bike shop which sold me my tube and my emergency pump sold me a tube and a pump which are incompatible. So I was back to square 1 because my GS didn't have a pump on him. At least he changed my tire.
So there I was, drenched in sweat, with a bike and one working tire. After hailing about 27 cabs to no avail, I said a quick prayer before I crossed busy traffic (barely living to tell the tale) and did something I hate doing: WALKED MY BIKE. It's just wrong. I walked it roughly a mile or so, through the Mall where I warmly welcomed tourists to our nation's capital (read: I looked at them scornfully when they got in my way), then close to my bus route. Then, out of nowhere I see a giant GMC taxi. Someone got out of it, and I was a GS for helping said person inside, and the cabbie took me home!!!! Yippee!!!!!
Needless to say, I learned a few things from this experience:
1) Bring money with you when you ride your bike
2) Don't go to a trendy bike shop. They will sell you overpriced crap that don't work together in cases of an emergency. Which is was what I was in.
3) Bring a cell phone so you call a cab instead of walking through tourists
4) Be a GS. Karma is awesome.
5) Numbering is an effective way to communicate a message. :)
Okay, so going global on this: be a GS. There needs to be more people like the one I met on the bike path. What would I have done without him and his knowledge about changing tires? I probably would've cried, attempted to do it myself, and broke my entire bike. Be a GS and save someone.
The reason I haven't written in a while is due to a few foreseen obstacles, which I shall name and explain in further detail.
1) I started graduate school. Clearly I have work to do now that I'm all about using my brain again. It's weird that when I wake up I have to take an Aleve for my headaches. My brain will get used to this change soon I hope. Honestly I love school and my new friends. I'm taking three classes, two of which are so incredible that I get excited to work on projects and go to class to discuss interesting topics. The third one kind of sucks but at least the projects are cool. I ALMOST feel smart again. Having a bunch of second years in my classes keeps me grounded. Oh and I'm incredibly inarticulate and they all sound smart. You know what I mean? I know I'm smart, but I don't SOUND it. It's annoying. I bought this book one time called "100 Words That Will Make You Sound Smart." Maybe I should crack that sucka open every once in a while. I feel like it will take me far.
2) Okay there really isn't a #2. I just feel better when I number things.
Honestly I haven't thought about anything to write in a while. I'm actually working on my academic online portfolio (aka academic blog) which means I can't say things like, "I'm a witty little gal sometimes."
Okay, so what should I write about? How the stereotypes at my school are fairly accurate? How I try to fit in sometimes and look like a preppy jerk? How when I get sick of trying to fit in I just wear workout clothes to class? How I go to the gym to see the eye candy, willing those boys playing shirts & skins basketball to be 24 or older? How the smoker next to me (I'm sitting outside Starbucks right now because it's a gorgeous day) needs to move away from me and perhaps apologize for endangering my lovely lungs? Nah. I'll talk about a recent experience and relate it to the world. That sounds good. Great topic. Going global.
Alright, so I'm unemployed. I love it. Or do I just love living off student loans? It's a toss-up. Anywho, I decided to go for a nice bike ride one pretty morning this week. I figured I'd go around 9 because most people would be at work by then. I was wrong, but whatever. The path to the Potomac was lovely anyway. Seriously, I know it's gross and I would NEVER do the Nations Triathlon because I want to bear children in the (very very VERY distant) future...BUT the Potomac River is quite pretty from a distance. And, on such a sunny, breezy, 65 degree morning it was rather tranquil. Until I popped a tire. Aaaaaand all zen moments were gone. Imagine any and all remarks flying out of my mouth as I slowed to a wobbly stop. Admittedly I should have learned how to change a tire. I was miles away from home and far from a bus stop. At least I had money with me. Honestly I never bring my wallet on rides, but thank goodness I did. I also had a tube and tools to change my tire and OH MY GOSH MOVE AWAY FROM ME SMOKER! DID YOU JUST EXHALE IN MY GENERAL DIRECTION?!?!?! TAKE YOUR PLATO BOOK AND YOUR CANCER STICKS ELSEWHERE!!!!!!
Where was I? Oh right. So as I'm about to start crying, a Good Samaritan (GS) passed me. He asked if I needed help and I graciously accepted his offer. He changed my tire. A police officer even stopped to make sure things were cool. Which they were. Zen moments were returning as I basked in the glow of their hearts of gold.
Unfortunately the yuppie bike shop which sold me my tube and my emergency pump sold me a tube and a pump which are incompatible. So I was back to square 1 because my GS didn't have a pump on him. At least he changed my tire.
So there I was, drenched in sweat, with a bike and one working tire. After hailing about 27 cabs to no avail, I said a quick prayer before I crossed busy traffic (barely living to tell the tale) and did something I hate doing: WALKED MY BIKE. It's just wrong. I walked it roughly a mile or so, through the Mall where I warmly welcomed tourists to our nation's capital (read: I looked at them scornfully when they got in my way), then close to my bus route. Then, out of nowhere I see a giant GMC taxi. Someone got out of it, and I was a GS for helping said person inside, and the cabbie took me home!!!! Yippee!!!!!
Needless to say, I learned a few things from this experience:
1) Bring money with you when you ride your bike
2) Don't go to a trendy bike shop. They will sell you overpriced crap that don't work together in cases of an emergency. Which is was what I was in.
3) Bring a cell phone so you call a cab instead of walking through tourists
4) Be a GS. Karma is awesome.
5) Numbering is an effective way to communicate a message. :)
Okay, so going global on this: be a GS. There needs to be more people like the one I met on the bike path. What would I have done without him and his knowledge about changing tires? I probably would've cried, attempted to do it myself, and broke my entire bike. Be a GS and save someone.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
What's Wrong With Me?
I'll tell you what's wrong. Too many things going through my head, that's what's wrong. It's all happening, I tell you! It's.ALL.Happening. I went out of town last weekend, will again this weekend, am quitting my job on Wednesday, going home Thursday, then when I come back I go to two concerts, orientation, and then school starts. Oh and I must meet my deadline of finishing all Harry Potter books by the time school starts. AHHHHHNEEDABEER!.
Ahem...
In honor of the fact that I can't keep a single thought in my brain without thinking: "Ahh! I have to finish my work before I leave and pack up my desk and oh my goodness how can I take home all of my stuff when I have such an amazing social life that I have something planned every day after work?" to "Can't wait to watch the Steelers!" to "I need a part-time job/internship. I wish there was a Bob Evans around here." to to "GET ME OUT OF THIS JOB I AM SO SICK OF MOVING BOXES AND FILING AND MOVING BOXES SOME MORE!" to "What's Harry going to do if he's expelled from Hogwarts?" to "Aw. I can't wait to be home doing absolutely nothing in my basement wearing performance fleece eating Pizza Hut with my cat who hisses at me." to "wahhhhhhh I need to run more I'm fat" to...get the picture? If I wasn't so exhausted I'd be up all night going senile with all of these silly thoughts.
[Deep breath]
I decided to go all "25 Things" from Facebook because I can't flush out any of these thoughts to be a good entry. Please enjoy my stream of consciousness. I have to admit, the stream is rather entertaining when I have a small moment to reflect on what I just thought - before I go all crazy again.
If you are unfamiliar, Facebook has a note that was widely popular, where people listed 25 things about themselves that people may or may not know about you. Since I'm a jerk, however, I wrote things such as these few back on 1/27/09:
"4) I enjoy a nice pair of slacks.
5) The only time I enjoy work is when I'm doing anything but working (i.e. writing my first note, talking all day to Calshine because we are fantastic procrastinators, lunch with my co-workers, online shopping, etc.)
6) My favorite apparel is Old Navy Performance Fleece. If you haven't tried it, you should. If you're judging me right now, you're wrong.
*****
10) I am growing increasingly weary that my butt has formed the shape of my desk chair due to the intense amount of time I spend sitting during the day.
11) Thankfully, I still play sports in my pathetic attempt to salvage any of my "glory days" from when I was the Bench Captain of my high school volleyball team. Yes, I capitalized that. My coach told me senior year that I was to be Bench Captain.
12) I am not a quitter. No matter the situation, or the title (i.e. BENCH CAPTAIN, Sorority President, etc.)
***
22) Someday I'd like to leave the country. hmmm...Maybe I should change that to, "Someday I'd like to own a passport." Good goal. Aim high.
And so on...
Here I go! 25 Random thoughts going through my head that I couldn't work into real entries. Sorry I'm crazy. You were warned.
1) My boss just called and said she's still in denial I'm leaving. Then she asked me to get her coffee and, in turn, I got free coffee. She really is the best boss ever. My other boss is a close second.
2) Britney Spears' "Circus" was playing at Saxby's, so I shook my rear while I waited on my free coffee. Now I can't get that awful song out of my head.
3) My stationmate lent me some CDs so I can add them to the iTunes "illegally" on my work computer to then add to my iTouch. I am currently listening to the Black Eyed Peas to accomplish two things: keep my rear shaking (it was fun at Saxby's) and getting Miss Spears out of my head.
4) 2birds1blog.com is the funniest blog ever. Co-workers invited Meg McBlogger, one of the authors, to my going away happy hour next week. If she comes I'll be star struck. She's by far the funniest blogger ever. In fact, quit wasting your time reading my rubbish. Her blog is better. Enjoy and you're welcome.
5) I am inviting tons of people to my happy hour. If five people come I will be disappointed and will drink a lot.
6) If everyone or most people come then I will be very excited and will drink a lot.
7) I already planned the outfit I'm going to wear to orientation. Yes it includes wearing pearls. I think I'll fit in.
8) I really think that Ron and Hermoine should hook up already. All of their fighting is making Harry (and me) uncomfortable.
9) On the bus to New York last Friday I almost got in a fight. First of all, I was super hot and was sweating profusely. The sun was also shining on my side of the bus AND my lap top was on my lap. Hence, hot and bothered. So the broad next to me decided to be brilliant and blast her music so that I could hear it through Almost Famous that was playing at a reasonable volume from my headphones. So the dude in front of us not once, not twice, but THRICE accused me of being the loud one. Um, pardon me. I don't mean to stereotype, but the chick next to me was speaking Spanish as she walked on the bus and the music that was loud was clearly Latin jams. Honestly I liked the tunes. But don't accuse me, sir. The music playing on my computer at the moment he turned around the third time was Elton John's "Tiny Dancer." Show some respect, calm down, and point fingers elsewhere. Man I almost threw down.
10) When I got off the bus I waited on my friend at the Sbarro right next to the stop. I walked in to grab a drink and the guy behind the counter goes, "Hey Blondie, what can I get for you?" When I told him he goes, "Alright, sounds, good, can I have your number?" I (Graphic Heart) NY
11) Later that night we started with a LITER of beer each from an amazing Brooklyn German bar. Glorious.
12) The next day we saw Altar Boyz, an off-Broadway comedy musical about a boy band and the show was their concert. I was in tears from laughing. Please see it if you can. You can thank me later.
13) Later that night I stepped on a dead rat in Brooklyn. Then we went to a dive bar where we played Erotic Photo Hunt.
14) I'm still shaking my rear to the Black Eyed Peas. I can't understand what they're saying, but the beat is rocking my world. Party at my desk per usual.
15) Today for lunch the entire 9th floor is taking me out as a good-bye. It's very touching and I feel so special and I'm very sorry to sound annoying because I'm so happy.
16) I'm going to a wine bar in Chinatown after work and then to the Steelers bar on the Hill for the first pre-season game! HERE WE GO STEELERS HERE WE GO!!!!!!!
17) Tomorrow I'm taking a road trip to Rhode Island. I can't wait to be on the beach with a few of my closest co-workers.
18)I have a list of things I want to do before I'm 30. On that list is that I want to go to Las Vegas, wear a sequin dress, stand next to the craps tables so some old fellas can buy me martinis and I'll blow on their dice for good luck. It could happen.
19) Anyone wanna go to Vegas for my 25th birthday?
20) My friend from home just texted me saying she's driving around, belting out *NSYNC. I can't wait to go home.
21) I made dinner twice this week. I can't remember the last time I did that. You know what? I'm an awesome cook.
22) Also, Whole Foods is super cool. However, I am slightly disturbed that I spend $5 on low-fat peanut butter. On the other hand, PB&J sandwiches make up for it.
23) Did you know there's a restaurant in NYC that only sells PB&J and milk? How freaking cute is that?
24) Did you also know that it's Beer Week in DC next week followed by Restaurant Week?
25) How about this: did you know that now that I'm a poor college student without a job that I can't afford to do anything fun but I do anyway? Yay loans. And for paying them off until my dying day.
Okay, so it lost its luster as I continued, but those really were my thoughts for the last few minutes. Excuse me while I go move some boxes again. Four days and 6 hours left!!!!!!
Ahem...
In honor of the fact that I can't keep a single thought in my brain without thinking: "Ahh! I have to finish my work before I leave and pack up my desk and oh my goodness how can I take home all of my stuff when I have such an amazing social life that I have something planned every day after work?" to "Can't wait to watch the Steelers!" to "I need a part-time job/internship. I wish there was a Bob Evans around here." to to "GET ME OUT OF THIS JOB I AM SO SICK OF MOVING BOXES AND FILING AND MOVING BOXES SOME MORE!" to "What's Harry going to do if he's expelled from Hogwarts?" to "Aw. I can't wait to be home doing absolutely nothing in my basement wearing performance fleece eating Pizza Hut with my cat who hisses at me." to "wahhhhhhh I need to run more I'm fat" to...get the picture? If I wasn't so exhausted I'd be up all night going senile with all of these silly thoughts.
[Deep breath]
I decided to go all "25 Things" from Facebook because I can't flush out any of these thoughts to be a good entry. Please enjoy my stream of consciousness. I have to admit, the stream is rather entertaining when I have a small moment to reflect on what I just thought - before I go all crazy again.
If you are unfamiliar, Facebook has a note that was widely popular, where people listed 25 things about themselves that people may or may not know about you. Since I'm a jerk, however, I wrote things such as these few back on 1/27/09:
"4) I enjoy a nice pair of slacks.
5) The only time I enjoy work is when I'm doing anything but working (i.e. writing my first note, talking all day to Calshine because we are fantastic procrastinators, lunch with my co-workers, online shopping, etc.)
6) My favorite apparel is Old Navy Performance Fleece. If you haven't tried it, you should. If you're judging me right now, you're wrong.
*****
10) I am growing increasingly weary that my butt has formed the shape of my desk chair due to the intense amount of time I spend sitting during the day.
11) Thankfully, I still play sports in my pathetic attempt to salvage any of my "glory days" from when I was the Bench Captain of my high school volleyball team. Yes, I capitalized that. My coach told me senior year that I was to be Bench Captain.
12) I am not a quitter. No matter the situation, or the title (i.e. BENCH CAPTAIN, Sorority President, etc.)
***
22) Someday I'd like to leave the country. hmmm...Maybe I should change that to, "Someday I'd like to own a passport." Good goal. Aim high.
And so on...
Here I go! 25 Random thoughts going through my head that I couldn't work into real entries. Sorry I'm crazy. You were warned.
1) My boss just called and said she's still in denial I'm leaving. Then she asked me to get her coffee and, in turn, I got free coffee. She really is the best boss ever. My other boss is a close second.
2) Britney Spears' "Circus" was playing at Saxby's, so I shook my rear while I waited on my free coffee. Now I can't get that awful song out of my head.
3) My stationmate lent me some CDs so I can add them to the iTunes "illegally" on my work computer to then add to my iTouch. I am currently listening to the Black Eyed Peas to accomplish two things: keep my rear shaking (it was fun at Saxby's) and getting Miss Spears out of my head.
4) 2birds1blog.com is the funniest blog ever. Co-workers invited Meg McBlogger, one of the authors, to my going away happy hour next week. If she comes I'll be star struck. She's by far the funniest blogger ever. In fact, quit wasting your time reading my rubbish. Her blog is better. Enjoy and you're welcome.
5) I am inviting tons of people to my happy hour. If five people come I will be disappointed and will drink a lot.
6) If everyone or most people come then I will be very excited and will drink a lot.
7) I already planned the outfit I'm going to wear to orientation. Yes it includes wearing pearls. I think I'll fit in.
8) I really think that Ron and Hermoine should hook up already. All of their fighting is making Harry (and me) uncomfortable.
9) On the bus to New York last Friday I almost got in a fight. First of all, I was super hot and was sweating profusely. The sun was also shining on my side of the bus AND my lap top was on my lap. Hence, hot and bothered. So the broad next to me decided to be brilliant and blast her music so that I could hear it through Almost Famous that was playing at a reasonable volume from my headphones. So the dude in front of us not once, not twice, but THRICE accused me of being the loud one. Um, pardon me. I don't mean to stereotype, but the chick next to me was speaking Spanish as she walked on the bus and the music that was loud was clearly Latin jams. Honestly I liked the tunes. But don't accuse me, sir. The music playing on my computer at the moment he turned around the third time was Elton John's "Tiny Dancer." Show some respect, calm down, and point fingers elsewhere. Man I almost threw down.
10) When I got off the bus I waited on my friend at the Sbarro right next to the stop. I walked in to grab a drink and the guy behind the counter goes, "Hey Blondie, what can I get for you?" When I told him he goes, "Alright, sounds, good, can I have your number?" I (Graphic Heart) NY
11) Later that night we started with a LITER of beer each from an amazing Brooklyn German bar. Glorious.
12) The next day we saw Altar Boyz, an off-Broadway comedy musical about a boy band and the show was their concert. I was in tears from laughing. Please see it if you can. You can thank me later.
13) Later that night I stepped on a dead rat in Brooklyn. Then we went to a dive bar where we played Erotic Photo Hunt.
14) I'm still shaking my rear to the Black Eyed Peas. I can't understand what they're saying, but the beat is rocking my world. Party at my desk per usual.
15) Today for lunch the entire 9th floor is taking me out as a good-bye. It's very touching and I feel so special and I'm very sorry to sound annoying because I'm so happy.
16) I'm going to a wine bar in Chinatown after work and then to the Steelers bar on the Hill for the first pre-season game! HERE WE GO STEELERS HERE WE GO!!!!!!!
17) Tomorrow I'm taking a road trip to Rhode Island. I can't wait to be on the beach with a few of my closest co-workers.
18)I have a list of things I want to do before I'm 30. On that list is that I want to go to Las Vegas, wear a sequin dress, stand next to the craps tables so some old fellas can buy me martinis and I'll blow on their dice for good luck. It could happen.
19) Anyone wanna go to Vegas for my 25th birthday?
20) My friend from home just texted me saying she's driving around, belting out *NSYNC. I can't wait to go home.
21) I made dinner twice this week. I can't remember the last time I did that. You know what? I'm an awesome cook.
22) Also, Whole Foods is super cool. However, I am slightly disturbed that I spend $5 on low-fat peanut butter. On the other hand, PB&J sandwiches make up for it.
23) Did you know there's a restaurant in NYC that only sells PB&J and milk? How freaking cute is that?
24) Did you also know that it's Beer Week in DC next week followed by Restaurant Week?
25) How about this: did you know that now that I'm a poor college student without a job that I can't afford to do anything fun but I do anyway? Yay loans. And for paying them off until my dying day.
Okay, so it lost its luster as I continued, but those really were my thoughts for the last few minutes. Excuse me while I go move some boxes again. Four days and 6 hours left!!!!!!
Monday, August 3, 2009
Aw, Flashbacks Are Fun
With 12 days and 45 minutes left at my job I figured I should spend my time wisely. Of course I downloaded iTunes and made playlists. Hey. I'm a hard worker. Currently I am literally rocking out 9th grade-style to *NSYNC. That's right. Their music does it for me.
Truth: I was obsessed with *NSYNC from 7th grade-present. Not even kidding, if they ever revived and did a charity concert or a pity concert somewhere, you bet I'd take a plane, train or automobile to lose my voice screaming to those matching velcro outfits and sick dance moves. In no way am I ashamed of this. There you have it. I was THAT girl in junior high and high school. I boast seeing them four times. My room? Completely covered in pictures. I used up all of the family computer color ink printing out pictures. I entered the "*NSYNC *N Your School" contest, where I made all of my closest friends buy Herbal Essence Shampoo and other such products so we'd have the minimum proofs of purchase. Then we made a commercial which was also required to enter the contest. I sang a song in it. I was convinced I would win, they would come to my catholic high school to perform, JC would see me and instantly fall in love with me, and I would quit school, tour with them, we would get married on stage at a concert, and live a life of bliss. I was 14. On vacation one year I had to get the No Strings Attached album when it came out so my parents drove to Wal-Mart in the wee hours of the morning and listened to it with me in the car before we got breakfast. Another vacation I had to see the HBO concert but we didn't have HBO in our rooms, so they arranged for me to watch in one of the hotel area's conference rooms. I love my parents. I mean seriously. If permitting your daughter to openly be obsessed with men older than her isn't love I don't know what is. Oh and I also wrote to J.C. when I was in 8th grade telling him that I think we would be so great together and that I hope he'll wait for me until I'm 18 (and, uh, he'd be like 27).
I swear I have a brain.
It pains me to write this. But there you have it.
So all of these memories kept flooding back, I smiled, I quivered at my silliness, and then I was brought back to reality as I listened to the lyrics of the No Strings Attached album. Um...yeah.
Let's break it down.
1) Bye Bye Bye - the dance move has lasting power, but really?
"I'm giving up I know for sure
I don't wanna be the reason for your love no more
(Bye Bye)
I'm checkin' out
I'm signin' off
Don't wanna be the loser and I've had enough
Don't wanna be your fool
In this game for two
So I'm leavin' you behind
Bye, bye, bye..."
Toodles! PEACE.
2) It's Gonna Be Me
"Every little thing I do (ohh...)
Never seems enough for you
You don't wanna lose it again (don't wanna lose it)
But I'm not like them
Baby, when you finally (baby when you finally)
Get to love somebody
Guess what (guess what)
It's Gonna Be Me."
I know that crooning would win me over. Especially if someone echoed everything my suitor said.
3) Space Cowboy (Yippe-Yi-Ya)
Um, do I really need to post lyrics? Yes, actually I think I do.
"See I've got my eyes on the skies
The heavenly bodies up high
And if you're in the mood to take a ride
Then strap on a suit and get inside
If you wanna fly, come and take a ride
Take a space ride with the cowboy, baby"
I used to know the whole rap portion by Left Eye, as well.
4) Just Got Paid
First of all, it totally sounds like "Just Got Laid" throughout the song. I ignored this when I was younger, but you can't help but notice:
"Check the mirror, lookin' fly
Round up the posse, jump in my ride
Radio rockin', hottest jam
Feel the rhythm, pump up the sound
Feelin' so good
Don't you know, I'm just groovin' to the beat
Groovin', yeah, groovin', oh, oh, oh, ohhhh
Just got paid, Friday night
Party hoppin', feelin right
Booties shakin', all around
Pump that jam, while I'm gettin' down"
Ohhhhh yeah. They look fly alright.
5) It Makes Me Ill - my favorite song of the album
"Call me a hater, if you want to
But I only hate on him 'cause I want you
You can say I'm trippin' if you feel like
But you without me ain't right (ain't right)
You can say I'm crazy, if you want to
That's true-- I'm crazy 'bout you
You could say I'm breakin' down inside (inside)'
Cause I can't see you with another guy
It makes me ill
To see you give
Love and attention at his will
And you can't imagine how it makes me feel
To see you with him"
It makes you ill. We get it.
6) This I Promise You
Good ballad, just cheesy as all hell
"And I will take
You in my arms
And hold you right where you belong
Till the day my life is through
This I promise you
This I promise you"
How sweet. This song makes me ill, actually.
7) No Strings Attached - very catchy, but really? Really.
"Take it from me
It's a lesson to be learned
Even the good guys get burned
Take it from me
See I would give you love
The kind of love that you've only dreamed of
Baby you're not the only one
You don't have to be afraid to fall in love
And I know that you've hurt in the past
But if you want it, here's my heart
No strings attached"
Yeah, I'll take it from you, Justin.
8) Digital Getdown - this album came out in 2000, so I get the whole "let's chat about what's new and happening"...but when your audience is mainly tweens and young teens? My guess is you shouldn't promote talking to creeps online. "Getdown" isn't a word, either.
"Baby baby we can do all that we want
We're gettin nasty nasty, we're getting freaky deaky
Baby baby we can do more than just talk
Cause I can hear ya hear ya, and I can see ya see ya
Baby baby we can do all that we want
We're getting nasty nasty, we're getting freaky deaky..
Digital digital get down just you and me
(You may be) Twenty thousand miles away but I can see ya
And baby baby you can see me
Digital digital get down just what we need
We can get together naturally
(We can) We can get together on the digital screen"
I believe this prompted parental controls.
9) Bringin' Da Noise - not even posting lyrics. It's just dumb. Catchy, but dumb.
10) That's When I'll Stop Loving You - meh. Cheese cheese cheese. Sweet, but it's highly unlikely that a guy will never make her cry, like the lyrics suggest. Thanks for giving women everywhere expectations of men. Thanks a lot.
11) I'll Be Good For You - again, nice sentiment, but not a good song. There was a reason they never sang this in concert. It was clearly a filler song for the album.
12) I Thought She Knew - hands down, amazing. Yes. I love this song. It's so depressing and real and all about unrequitted love. Thank you for all of your a cappella glory.
So that's my way-too-long-wow-Mare-you-are-pathetic assessment of only one of my favorite boy band's albums. I probably won't do it again because the realization is depressing, but it's fun to remember how silly I was/am for them and how I belt the lyrics without even thinking. At work. Maybe I should skip "Digital Getdown" next time I play the album unless I want to get fired before my 12 working days are through.
Truth: I was obsessed with *NSYNC from 7th grade-present. Not even kidding, if they ever revived and did a charity concert or a pity concert somewhere, you bet I'd take a plane, train or automobile to lose my voice screaming to those matching velcro outfits and sick dance moves. In no way am I ashamed of this. There you have it. I was THAT girl in junior high and high school. I boast seeing them four times. My room? Completely covered in pictures. I used up all of the family computer color ink printing out pictures. I entered the "*NSYNC *N Your School" contest, where I made all of my closest friends buy Herbal Essence Shampoo and other such products so we'd have the minimum proofs of purchase. Then we made a commercial which was also required to enter the contest. I sang a song in it. I was convinced I would win, they would come to my catholic high school to perform, JC would see me and instantly fall in love with me, and I would quit school, tour with them, we would get married on stage at a concert, and live a life of bliss. I was 14. On vacation one year I had to get the No Strings Attached album when it came out so my parents drove to Wal-Mart in the wee hours of the morning and listened to it with me in the car before we got breakfast. Another vacation I had to see the HBO concert but we didn't have HBO in our rooms, so they arranged for me to watch in one of the hotel area's conference rooms. I love my parents. I mean seriously. If permitting your daughter to openly be obsessed with men older than her isn't love I don't know what is. Oh and I also wrote to J.C. when I was in 8th grade telling him that I think we would be so great together and that I hope he'll wait for me until I'm 18 (and, uh, he'd be like 27).
I swear I have a brain.
It pains me to write this. But there you have it.
So all of these memories kept flooding back, I smiled, I quivered at my silliness, and then I was brought back to reality as I listened to the lyrics of the No Strings Attached album. Um...yeah.
Let's break it down.
1) Bye Bye Bye - the dance move has lasting power, but really?
"I'm giving up I know for sure
I don't wanna be the reason for your love no more
(Bye Bye)
I'm checkin' out
I'm signin' off
Don't wanna be the loser and I've had enough
Don't wanna be your fool
In this game for two
So I'm leavin' you behind
Bye, bye, bye..."
Toodles! PEACE.
2) It's Gonna Be Me
"Every little thing I do (ohh...)
Never seems enough for you
You don't wanna lose it again (don't wanna lose it)
But I'm not like them
Baby, when you finally (baby when you finally)
Get to love somebody
Guess what (guess what)
It's Gonna Be Me."
I know that crooning would win me over. Especially if someone echoed everything my suitor said.
3) Space Cowboy (Yippe-Yi-Ya)
Um, do I really need to post lyrics? Yes, actually I think I do.
"See I've got my eyes on the skies
The heavenly bodies up high
And if you're in the mood to take a ride
Then strap on a suit and get inside
If you wanna fly, come and take a ride
Take a space ride with the cowboy, baby"
I used to know the whole rap portion by Left Eye, as well.
4) Just Got Paid
First of all, it totally sounds like "Just Got Laid" throughout the song. I ignored this when I was younger, but you can't help but notice:
"Check the mirror, lookin' fly
Round up the posse, jump in my ride
Radio rockin', hottest jam
Feel the rhythm, pump up the sound
Feelin' so good
Don't you know, I'm just groovin' to the beat
Groovin', yeah, groovin', oh, oh, oh, ohhhh
Just got paid, Friday night
Party hoppin', feelin right
Booties shakin', all around
Pump that jam, while I'm gettin' down"
Ohhhhh yeah. They look fly alright.
5) It Makes Me Ill - my favorite song of the album
"Call me a hater, if you want to
But I only hate on him 'cause I want you
You can say I'm trippin' if you feel like
But you without me ain't right (ain't right)
You can say I'm crazy, if you want to
That's true-- I'm crazy 'bout you
You could say I'm breakin' down inside (inside)'
Cause I can't see you with another guy
It makes me ill
To see you give
Love and attention at his will
And you can't imagine how it makes me feel
To see you with him"
It makes you ill. We get it.
6) This I Promise You
Good ballad, just cheesy as all hell
"And I will take
You in my arms
And hold you right where you belong
Till the day my life is through
This I promise you
This I promise you"
How sweet. This song makes me ill, actually.
7) No Strings Attached - very catchy, but really? Really.
"Take it from me
It's a lesson to be learned
Even the good guys get burned
Take it from me
See I would give you love
The kind of love that you've only dreamed of
Baby you're not the only one
You don't have to be afraid to fall in love
And I know that you've hurt in the past
But if you want it, here's my heart
No strings attached"
Yeah, I'll take it from you, Justin.
8) Digital Getdown - this album came out in 2000, so I get the whole "let's chat about what's new and happening"...but when your audience is mainly tweens and young teens? My guess is you shouldn't promote talking to creeps online. "Getdown" isn't a word, either.
"Baby baby we can do all that we want
We're gettin nasty nasty, we're getting freaky deaky
Baby baby we can do more than just talk
Cause I can hear ya hear ya, and I can see ya see ya
Baby baby we can do all that we want
We're getting nasty nasty, we're getting freaky deaky..
Digital digital get down just you and me
(You may be) Twenty thousand miles away but I can see ya
And baby baby you can see me
Digital digital get down just what we need
We can get together naturally
(We can) We can get together on the digital screen"
I believe this prompted parental controls.
9) Bringin' Da Noise - not even posting lyrics. It's just dumb. Catchy, but dumb.
10) That's When I'll Stop Loving You - meh. Cheese cheese cheese. Sweet, but it's highly unlikely that a guy will never make her cry, like the lyrics suggest. Thanks for giving women everywhere expectations of men. Thanks a lot.
11) I'll Be Good For You - again, nice sentiment, but not a good song. There was a reason they never sang this in concert. It was clearly a filler song for the album.
12) I Thought She Knew - hands down, amazing. Yes. I love this song. It's so depressing and real and all about unrequitted love. Thank you for all of your a cappella glory.
So that's my way-too-long-wow-Mare-you-are-pathetic assessment of only one of my favorite boy band's albums. I probably won't do it again because the realization is depressing, but it's fun to remember how silly I was/am for them and how I belt the lyrics without even thinking. At work. Maybe I should skip "Digital Getdown" next time I play the album unless I want to get fired before my 12 working days are through.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
I Tried. And Disqualified.
And by "Tried" I mean I competed in a triathlon. Don't be impressed. I finished, but had an insanely slow time...and I only did the Sprint race. I probably would've been faster had I trained harder even though I worked out typically six days a week...but unfortunately I love beer and my social life so I guess the tri took the fall. Oh well. I was happy during my run and ecstatic when I finished the race. Gotta love those endorphins. But then I saw pictures. Me + spandex ≠ attractive. So then I got to thinking about all of the funny things that I experienced while racing...
1) I wasn't the only one in lycra. Everyone wore spandex in some shape or fashion. It was so awful you couldn't help but laugh. There was absolutely nothing flattering about our garb or general appearance.
2) So the race had different waves based on age and we started at staggered times...but they also had a wave for hefty people in the Sprint race...called Clydesdales. Yes. I was in Wave 7, Age 20-24. Some unfortunate souls were in Wave 5, Clydesdales. Your age doesn't matter when you're pushing 400 pounds. Mad props to them for doing it, though. I guarantee they would kick my butt had we gone at the same time.
3) I couldn't swim strait. It was like I was drawn to the bouys on the sides of the regulation swim area. I probably would've finished the swim five minutes faster, but I kind of looked like I was drunk, got pulled over for swimming drunk, and failed a sobriety test because I was swerving left and right endangering nearby swimmers.
4) We kept our bikes and gear in a designated transition area, so after my swim I jogged to go get to my bike...however, the path for the bike portion of the race was about the size of a football field away from the transition area and we could not ride our bikes to the entrance. We had to run them. It was annoying. What kept me going? There were signs saying "Mount Area" with an arrow pointing up...and then when we got to this area, there was a sign posted that said "Mount Here." I couldn't help but chuckle. Those race officials (who I lovingly referred to as Tri Nazis) at least have a sense of humor. Or I'm just immature.
5) When the ride was over a man kept yelling as we drew nearer to the "Mount Area" that we needed to "Get Down! Dismount!" Again, I chuckled.
6) During my ride, my race number was about to fall off of my race belt. Instead of stopping to fix it since I didn't technically need it on my bike, I tucked it into the side of my belt and decided to adjust it during my run. Apparently I fixed it too late and was penalized 2 minutes on my run. Piss off, Tri Nazis.
7) Since I am a member of the DC Tri Club, I had the same uniform as 200+ other individuals, which was super cool. During the run as we passed each other (the course wasn't a circle, so you got to see who was in front and behind you) we'd give each other fives, act all macho, and say stuff like, "Yeah DC Tri! Let's DO this!" I think this is funny because at other social events with the club we're not that social and we don't act like friends. Come race time, we're nearly kin that's how much it appeared that we loved each other.
8) Every time I saw a photographer I sucked in and tried to run faster, while I looked very determined and badass. The picture of myself in my mind as this happened was quite awesome, but, uh, that didn't translate to film. Yikes.
9) I wasn't around anyone when I finished the race so in the picture it looks like I finished dead last.
10) After the race I bought a beer. I felt amazing and proud and honest to goodness happy.
11) The next day I found out I was disqualified and got a 2 minute penalty on my run.
12) Everyone from the Club (read: FREAKS WHO DO 8 TRIATHLONS A YEAR) asked me after the race when my next race is and then when I said I didn't have any scheduled they asked if I'll compete in a tri again...and an Olympic this time, since Sprint races are for Clydesdales.
So there you have my tri-tastic experience. It wasn't fun, I really sucked, I ended up getting disqualified by the Tri Nazis (I didn't have a plug/cap on one of my handle bars...hey Tri Nazis, I'll give YOU a plug...jerks.), and I had to use nasty Port-O-Potties.
But hey. I finished.
(Disclaimer: thanks for all of the support - I just found the whole thing funny. Despite what I just wrote, I am proud of myself.)
1) I wasn't the only one in lycra. Everyone wore spandex in some shape or fashion. It was so awful you couldn't help but laugh. There was absolutely nothing flattering about our garb or general appearance.
2) So the race had different waves based on age and we started at staggered times...but they also had a wave for hefty people in the Sprint race...called Clydesdales. Yes. I was in Wave 7, Age 20-24. Some unfortunate souls were in Wave 5, Clydesdales. Your age doesn't matter when you're pushing 400 pounds. Mad props to them for doing it, though. I guarantee they would kick my butt had we gone at the same time.
3) I couldn't swim strait. It was like I was drawn to the bouys on the sides of the regulation swim area. I probably would've finished the swim five minutes faster, but I kind of looked like I was drunk, got pulled over for swimming drunk, and failed a sobriety test because I was swerving left and right endangering nearby swimmers.
4) We kept our bikes and gear in a designated transition area, so after my swim I jogged to go get to my bike...however, the path for the bike portion of the race was about the size of a football field away from the transition area and we could not ride our bikes to the entrance. We had to run them. It was annoying. What kept me going? There were signs saying "Mount Area" with an arrow pointing up...and then when we got to this area, there was a sign posted that said "Mount Here." I couldn't help but chuckle. Those race officials (who I lovingly referred to as Tri Nazis) at least have a sense of humor. Or I'm just immature.
5) When the ride was over a man kept yelling as we drew nearer to the "Mount Area" that we needed to "Get Down! Dismount!" Again, I chuckled.
6) During my ride, my race number was about to fall off of my race belt. Instead of stopping to fix it since I didn't technically need it on my bike, I tucked it into the side of my belt and decided to adjust it during my run. Apparently I fixed it too late and was penalized 2 minutes on my run. Piss off, Tri Nazis.
7) Since I am a member of the DC Tri Club, I had the same uniform as 200+ other individuals, which was super cool. During the run as we passed each other (the course wasn't a circle, so you got to see who was in front and behind you) we'd give each other fives, act all macho, and say stuff like, "Yeah DC Tri! Let's DO this!" I think this is funny because at other social events with the club we're not that social and we don't act like friends. Come race time, we're nearly kin that's how much it appeared that we loved each other.
8) Every time I saw a photographer I sucked in and tried to run faster, while I looked very determined and badass. The picture of myself in my mind as this happened was quite awesome, but, uh, that didn't translate to film. Yikes.
9) I wasn't around anyone when I finished the race so in the picture it looks like I finished dead last.
10) After the race I bought a beer. I felt amazing and proud and honest to goodness happy.
11) The next day I found out I was disqualified and got a 2 minute penalty on my run.
12) Everyone from the Club (read: FREAKS WHO DO 8 TRIATHLONS A YEAR) asked me after the race when my next race is and then when I said I didn't have any scheduled they asked if I'll compete in a tri again...and an Olympic this time, since Sprint races are for Clydesdales.
So there you have my tri-tastic experience. It wasn't fun, I really sucked, I ended up getting disqualified by the Tri Nazis (I didn't have a plug/cap on one of my handle bars...hey Tri Nazis, I'll give YOU a plug...jerks.), and I had to use nasty Port-O-Potties.
But hey. I finished.
(Disclaimer: thanks for all of the support - I just found the whole thing funny. Despite what I just wrote, I am proud of myself.)
Friday, July 17, 2009
I'm Gonna Go Out On a Limb and Overshare.
So I workout, yes? We all know this. I mean, I could say it's because I'm fit, love to sweat, feel fantastic afterward, and all of that stuff really skinny people say...but hearing that makes me want to slap puppies...really I workout in the mornings so I don't sweat on my way into work and my hair looks good after I shower and primp. But that's not an overshare, just background...
My morning workout started out pretty lovely. The only other lady in the locker room was almost finished getting ready as I came in so I thought "Score! I love being alone in the locker room to get ready for work! Yippee!" So I took a shower, felt happy and clean, grabbed a towel, dried off in my stall...AND THEN MY CURTAIN OPENED.
That's right. A cleaning lady got a free show and it was only 8:30 a.m.
Now, the thoughts going through your head might be some of the following:
"Why did she open your curtain?"
"Didn't she hear you in there?"
"What did you do?"
"That's so embarrassing!"
"HAHAHAHA! Sucks to be you!"
All good thoughts and questions. Except for that last one. Anyway.
Cleaning ladies come in and out of the locker room in the mornings because there is a linen closet in the back. Sometimes the bags of towels are heavy, so the CLs (I shortened "cleaning ladies") ask some big dude to come in and carry them out. Usually the CLs say something like, "Hey! Anyone in here? Everyone decent?" Thankfully she wasn't accompanied by a dude. But still. There were no words. No no. Just some chick took it upon herself to completely ignore my bag of clothes and toiletries on the bench by the lockers and the delightful smell of soap wafting from shower #2. Instead she thought to herself, "Hmmmm MAYBE I SHOULD BE A GENIUS AND OPEN A CLOSED CURTAIN TO MAKE SURE NO ONE IS IN HERE. GREAT IDEA!" Oh wait, there IS SOMEONE STANDING NAKED IN THE SHOWER STALL SCREAMING BLOODY MURDER!!!!!!!!!!!
I don't know who this woman was, because in the split second the curtain was opened and then quickly shut all I could do was scream and look the other way so she couldn't identify me later. But hey, it was all I could do. Also, I didn't want to know who it was...but now I'm going to suspect every woman in the elevator with similar features has seen me in the buff and I'm not okay with that. By the way, there are many women height 5'6-5'10 riding the elevator daily so my paranoia is through the roof. Of course she showered me with apologies (pun intended) but I couldn't hear her excuse over the pounding of my precious heart which was beating at an unhealthy rate out of shock, fear, and anger.
Oh well. At least it's Friday.
My morning workout started out pretty lovely. The only other lady in the locker room was almost finished getting ready as I came in so I thought "Score! I love being alone in the locker room to get ready for work! Yippee!" So I took a shower, felt happy and clean, grabbed a towel, dried off in my stall...AND THEN MY CURTAIN OPENED.
That's right. A cleaning lady got a free show and it was only 8:30 a.m.
Now, the thoughts going through your head might be some of the following:
"Why did she open your curtain?"
"Didn't she hear you in there?"
"What did you do?"
"That's so embarrassing!"
"HAHAHAHA! Sucks to be you!"
All good thoughts and questions. Except for that last one. Anyway.
Cleaning ladies come in and out of the locker room in the mornings because there is a linen closet in the back. Sometimes the bags of towels are heavy, so the CLs (I shortened "cleaning ladies") ask some big dude to come in and carry them out. Usually the CLs say something like, "Hey! Anyone in here? Everyone decent?" Thankfully she wasn't accompanied by a dude. But still. There were no words. No no. Just some chick took it upon herself to completely ignore my bag of clothes and toiletries on the bench by the lockers and the delightful smell of soap wafting from shower #2. Instead she thought to herself, "Hmmmm MAYBE I SHOULD BE A GENIUS AND OPEN A CLOSED CURTAIN TO MAKE SURE NO ONE IS IN HERE. GREAT IDEA!" Oh wait, there IS SOMEONE STANDING NAKED IN THE SHOWER STALL SCREAMING BLOODY MURDER!!!!!!!!!!!
I don't know who this woman was, because in the split second the curtain was opened and then quickly shut all I could do was scream and look the other way so she couldn't identify me later. But hey, it was all I could do. Also, I didn't want to know who it was...but now I'm going to suspect every woman in the elevator with similar features has seen me in the buff and I'm not okay with that. By the way, there are many women height 5'6-5'10 riding the elevator daily so my paranoia is through the roof. Of course she showered me with apologies (pun intended) but I couldn't hear her excuse over the pounding of my precious heart which was beating at an unhealthy rate out of shock, fear, and anger.
Oh well. At least it's Friday.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Let's Talk Disney, Shall We?
Let's.
Cute, chubby, sits back while others take charge with sewing and other household chores, eager to be the first to find the cheese, the house cat hates him, he laughs uncontrollably in inappropriate moments, loves a little adventure, and is, overall, a loveable creature. Our famed heroin saved dear Gus from the mouse trap and just fell in love with his cheerful nature and willingness to put a smile on her face. He eventually works with Jaq to get some scraps together for a fabulous pink dress for Cinderelly to wear. So adding thrifty and good in a pinch to his list of many traits just makes Gus me in animated form (it also makes me a dude in the land o' Disney, but I wasn't gonna go there). If you know me, then watch this video, take a gander at good ol' Gus and tell me our mannerisms are not completely alike.
So my sister spent her birthday with Mickey and the gang at Disneyland last month. And Monday over lunch, co-workers and I related one hairy co-worker's life to that of "Beast" from Beauty and the Beast. All of the Disney magic made me ponder...
I'm sure you've filled out some sort of Facebook quiz about which Disney Princess you would be. I know I have. I was Cinderella. [Or Sleeping Beauty (because seriously? Every morning I wish I had her hair).] While I enjoy some 'relly, admire her, and wish I looked like her, I never really identified with her. So here is my topic and please comment as you see fit.
Which Disney character are you?
I love Cinderella, but I'm more like her trusty mouse Gus.
Cute, chubby, sits back while others take charge with sewing and other household chores, eager to be the first to find the cheese, the house cat hates him, he laughs uncontrollably in inappropriate moments, loves a little adventure, and is, overall, a loveable creature. Our famed heroin saved dear Gus from the mouse trap and just fell in love with his cheerful nature and willingness to put a smile on her face. He eventually works with Jaq to get some scraps together for a fabulous pink dress for Cinderelly to wear. So adding thrifty and good in a pinch to his list of many traits just makes Gus me in animated form (it also makes me a dude in the land o' Disney, but I wasn't gonna go there). If you know me, then watch this video, take a gander at good ol' Gus and tell me our mannerisms are not completely alike.Sorry, I tried to embed the video on here but it didn't work. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eFM2DCfKz0I&NR=1
So there you have it, Special K as a Disney character.
However, they do have a whole bar/beer scene in Beauty and the Beast so maybe I should instead be one of the chicks with the beer mugs drinking, singing merrily and making friends. Maybe one of them should be an official Disney princess and then I would enjoy that Facebook quiz.Monday, June 29, 2009
Oh No. I have to wear a swimsuit.
Every year I look forward to family vacation. From the time I was a wee lass it would be super exciting because vacay was always a week at the beach, book-ended by visits to my grandparents' place in North Carolina. My parents let us rent awesome movies and eat sugary cereals (Fruity Pebbles, as a result, will always have a special place in my heart) and all of the pop we could drink. Plus, I would make sand castles and toss around the football or baseball with my brother and dad on the beach. Good freaking times.
Over the years, however, my fam has dispersed quite literally around the country and it makes family vacation a little difficult. Unfortunately my brother and sister typically can't make it due to work schedules, so it's usually just me and the 'rents. Being the youngest (with lots of vaction time holler!) definitely has its perks. The three of us have a blast going out to eat, lounging, drinking, etc. Essentially it's a time for us to be incredibly lazy. Sure we go for runs or bike on the beach...but then we quickly follow-up said sweat fest with hearty food and alcohol. Again, good freaking times.
There is, however, one thing I dread about vacations. Not the drives. Not the excessive time with my family, which some people don't like but I happen to enjoy. Even when we were young, my siblings fought with each other and not with me. Sure I annoyed them (I love being the youngest!) but they fought each other. It was fun. Nope, not even having sand everywhere on everything. I get self-conscious about swimwear, but really? The one thing I hate more than anything is being pale. That's right. My skin. What makes me Me. Hate, hate, hate. To paint a picture, I hung out with the two other pale girls in our class at our tiny Catholic school. The cool kids called the two of them "Cream" and "Sugar"...and me? The "Other Pale One." Yeah I wasn't even cool enough to get a name. "Do Unto Others" my fanny. (My face right now? Frown. Those jerks.) I mean, I own it. I am pale. I can't tan. I match the pearls I wear. If I wore something in a nude/tan color, it would be awkward because it would be significantly darker than my natural hue. Wait, I take that back. It would be awkward if I wore that color in general...I digress...
That being said, I hate being on the beach. Don't get me wrong, I love the beach. The sand, the sound of the waves, etc. But, uh...let's not sugar coat this. I blind everyone. I make children scream in fear of the Great White Thighs. I cannot go for a stroll in a cute suit (with a coordinating cover-up, of course) without feeling like all eyes are on me for being the freak show trying to fit in with all of the tan people. I remember going to Dewey Beach last year. My friends were all laying out while I (sporting a t-shirt and shorts) watched the sand volleyball tournament. I overheard some people in the stands comment on passers-by saying, "Oh wow, those people should NOT be here. They are so pale." Ouch. That could have been me these jerks were talking about. Did I stick up for the pale people who felt like taking a stroll in their cute suits with or without cover-ups? Did I say that everyone has a right to enjoy nature and sunshine and we can't help it?!?!?! No. I sat quietly on the bleachers, trying not to get in the fetal position and sway back and forth whilst softly weeping.
I appreciate any suggestions you might throw my way, but trust me, I've heard and tried it all. In fact, I could document each event. Please allow me to insert artistic exaggeration as I select a few from the vault of memories.
August 1987. Location: family vacation to some Carolina beach somewhere. (Okay, I was two. But I've seen pictures.) Picture me in a stawberry suit (with a matching hat and skirt!!!) in my own little beach chair under my own little umbrella. Dripping in Coppertone Water Babies. Result: "Full on Monet. From far away looks okay, but up close is just a big mess." (Name.that.movie.) All cute kids are cute until covered in flies and sand from sticking to your sunscreen.
June 1997. Location: neighborhood pool. I tried Baby Oil with my friends in an effort to get a nice crisp color. Result? Friends: tan and gorgeous. Me: A nice, crisp, 5 foot lobster. God Bless aloe. I believe I cried under a shade tree all over my neon green one-piece as my friends trotted pool-side in their bikinis cruisin' for fellow 12-year old boys.
June 2003. Location: Senior Trip to Myrtle Beach. I tried SPF 8 instead of my usual 45. Result? Friends who didn't use any sunblock looked awesome and tan in their American Eagle bikinis. Me: I matched my hot-pink bikini, bought an umbrella, SPF 45 and two bottles of aloe, and got made fun of. "The Other Pale One" definitely applied here.
April 2007: Location: Westerville, Ohio. I worked two jobs in college so I could have extra money. What did I spend it on? Well beer, obviously, but yeah. Jergens' Natural Glow and Mystic tan. Result? A nice orange glow and orange-stained clothing from me sweating it off.
July 2007: Location: Washington, D.C. I thought that my orange-ness was awesome, so I continued to do Mystic when I moved. Unfortunately the booths aren't as good as those in Ohio. Result: I could not use my hands lest people see just how orange they were.
June/July 2009: I grew out of my Oompa-Loompa phase. I have embraced that I am slightly a shade darker than the white paper I print in my office all day. I'm cool with taking a sweaty stroll down the beach next week (in a cover-up). I am totally fine with people saying that they are "Blinded by the white" when they look at me in any lighting brighter than those in Recessions. Now if I hear anyone make fun of my fellow albinos rest assured I will not stand by idly under a tree away from the sun. I will stand strong. I will overcome. I will speak my mind. And then I will go back under the tree because I don't have any money to buy aloe.
Over the years, however, my fam has dispersed quite literally around the country and it makes family vacation a little difficult. Unfortunately my brother and sister typically can't make it due to work schedules, so it's usually just me and the 'rents. Being the youngest (with lots of vaction time holler!) definitely has its perks. The three of us have a blast going out to eat, lounging, drinking, etc. Essentially it's a time for us to be incredibly lazy. Sure we go for runs or bike on the beach...but then we quickly follow-up said sweat fest with hearty food and alcohol. Again, good freaking times.
There is, however, one thing I dread about vacations. Not the drives. Not the excessive time with my family, which some people don't like but I happen to enjoy. Even when we were young, my siblings fought with each other and not with me. Sure I annoyed them (I love being the youngest!) but they fought each other. It was fun. Nope, not even having sand everywhere on everything. I get self-conscious about swimwear, but really? The one thing I hate more than anything is being pale. That's right. My skin. What makes me Me. Hate, hate, hate. To paint a picture, I hung out with the two other pale girls in our class at our tiny Catholic school. The cool kids called the two of them "Cream" and "Sugar"...and me? The "Other Pale One." Yeah I wasn't even cool enough to get a name. "Do Unto Others" my fanny. (My face right now? Frown. Those jerks.) I mean, I own it. I am pale. I can't tan. I match the pearls I wear. If I wore something in a nude/tan color, it would be awkward because it would be significantly darker than my natural hue. Wait, I take that back. It would be awkward if I wore that color in general...I digress...
That being said, I hate being on the beach. Don't get me wrong, I love the beach. The sand, the sound of the waves, etc. But, uh...let's not sugar coat this. I blind everyone. I make children scream in fear of the Great White Thighs. I cannot go for a stroll in a cute suit (with a coordinating cover-up, of course) without feeling like all eyes are on me for being the freak show trying to fit in with all of the tan people. I remember going to Dewey Beach last year. My friends were all laying out while I (sporting a t-shirt and shorts) watched the sand volleyball tournament. I overheard some people in the stands comment on passers-by saying, "Oh wow, those people should NOT be here. They are so pale." Ouch. That could have been me these jerks were talking about. Did I stick up for the pale people who felt like taking a stroll in their cute suits with or without cover-ups? Did I say that everyone has a right to enjoy nature and sunshine and we can't help it?!?!?! No. I sat quietly on the bleachers, trying not to get in the fetal position and sway back and forth whilst softly weeping.
I appreciate any suggestions you might throw my way, but trust me, I've heard and tried it all. In fact, I could document each event. Please allow me to insert artistic exaggeration as I select a few from the vault of memories.
August 1987. Location: family vacation to some Carolina beach somewhere. (Okay, I was two. But I've seen pictures.) Picture me in a stawberry suit (with a matching hat and skirt!!!) in my own little beach chair under my own little umbrella. Dripping in Coppertone Water Babies. Result: "Full on Monet. From far away looks okay, but up close is just a big mess." (Name.that.movie.) All cute kids are cute until covered in flies and sand from sticking to your sunscreen.
June 1997. Location: neighborhood pool. I tried Baby Oil with my friends in an effort to get a nice crisp color. Result? Friends: tan and gorgeous. Me: A nice, crisp, 5 foot lobster. God Bless aloe. I believe I cried under a shade tree all over my neon green one-piece as my friends trotted pool-side in their bikinis cruisin' for fellow 12-year old boys.
June 2003. Location: Senior Trip to Myrtle Beach. I tried SPF 8 instead of my usual 45. Result? Friends who didn't use any sunblock looked awesome and tan in their American Eagle bikinis. Me: I matched my hot-pink bikini, bought an umbrella, SPF 45 and two bottles of aloe, and got made fun of. "The Other Pale One" definitely applied here.
April 2007: Location: Westerville, Ohio. I worked two jobs in college so I could have extra money. What did I spend it on? Well beer, obviously, but yeah. Jergens' Natural Glow and Mystic tan. Result? A nice orange glow and orange-stained clothing from me sweating it off.
July 2007: Location: Washington, D.C. I thought that my orange-ness was awesome, so I continued to do Mystic when I moved. Unfortunately the booths aren't as good as those in Ohio. Result: I could not use my hands lest people see just how orange they were.
June/July 2009: I grew out of my Oompa-Loompa phase. I have embraced that I am slightly a shade darker than the white paper I print in my office all day. I'm cool with taking a sweaty stroll down the beach next week (in a cover-up). I am totally fine with people saying that they are "Blinded by the white" when they look at me in any lighting brighter than those in Recessions. Now if I hear anyone make fun of my fellow albinos rest assured I will not stand by idly under a tree away from the sun. I will stand strong. I will overcome. I will speak my mind. And then I will go back under the tree because I don't have any money to buy aloe.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
The Online Dating Diaries (Part I)
Back in college I thought it would be a joy to try eHarmony's free personality profile. Considering how my wit and personality wows millions, I thought I'd give it a whirl. So here's my beef. Not only did I have to assess every aspect of my dazzling person, it took the greater part of an hour to complete. Pardon me, but at 20 years old I have better things to do than this. However, I proceed. Once I clicked my "Finish" button I was eager to meet my future husband, profile to profile. I mean, if everyone on the commercials was hooking up, shouldn't I get some love...or even a tiny nudge of interest?
"We're sorry, Mary, but the success rate of matches is 4 out of 5 people get matched. You were, unfortunately, the 1 in 5 who wasn't." Hrmph. LOUD NOISES. I wasted my time to get rejected by an Internet site?!?!?!?! Okay, MAYBE I shouldn't have limited myself to just the Columbus, OH network. After growing up there and lacking luck in love I should've known better. I should've possibly made my network Planet Earth. Hm. Hindsight truly is 20/20.
Excuse me while I eat my feelings after reliving that memory...
...yum.
[BELCH].
Three years later, after moving here I thought to myself, "Self? Buck up. Get out there. Meet some worthy men. Online." Good idea, Self.
New plan: don't do eHarmony. You'll just eat a lot. You're due for an upgrade. Let's try Match.com! Oh but I didn't stop there. Oh no. I read my diocese's newspaper for the first time ever and someone wrote an article in the wedding section (yeah, yeah. I read it for the wedding stories. So shoot me.) about how they met on catholicmatch.com. Pardon? Come again? A CATHOLIC dating site? Okay. I heard about J Date or whatever it's called for those of the Jewish faith, but this was a surprise. I knew my future husband was just a click away.
Naturally I made just the sweetest little profile you've ever laid your eyes on. I mean, c'mon. Who WOULDN'T ask me out for coffee after reading about my likes/dislikes and preferences in my match's eye and hair color? Exactly. And of course I only put up the cutest pictures of me doing my best sorority smiles at the most glamorous and fun events. Pure gold, right?
Sure, just ask the 35+ year-old foreigners who have checked me out in the digital sense. Jackpot.
Well, there goes my husband. And my dream of one day being on a match.com commercial. Because then and only then will I know that I've lived a full life.
"We're sorry, Mary, but the success rate of matches is 4 out of 5 people get matched. You were, unfortunately, the 1 in 5 who wasn't." Hrmph. LOUD NOISES. I wasted my time to get rejected by an Internet site?!?!?!?! Okay, MAYBE I shouldn't have limited myself to just the Columbus, OH network. After growing up there and lacking luck in love I should've known better. I should've possibly made my network Planet Earth. Hm. Hindsight truly is 20/20.
Excuse me while I eat my feelings after reliving that memory...
...yum.
[BELCH].
Three years later, after moving here I thought to myself, "Self? Buck up. Get out there. Meet some worthy men. Online." Good idea, Self.
New plan: don't do eHarmony. You'll just eat a lot. You're due for an upgrade. Let's try Match.com! Oh but I didn't stop there. Oh no. I read my diocese's newspaper for the first time ever and someone wrote an article in the wedding section (yeah, yeah. I read it for the wedding stories. So shoot me.) about how they met on catholicmatch.com. Pardon? Come again? A CATHOLIC dating site? Okay. I heard about J Date or whatever it's called for those of the Jewish faith, but this was a surprise. I knew my future husband was just a click away.
Naturally I made just the sweetest little profile you've ever laid your eyes on. I mean, c'mon. Who WOULDN'T ask me out for coffee after reading about my likes/dislikes and preferences in my match's eye and hair color? Exactly. And of course I only put up the cutest pictures of me doing my best sorority smiles at the most glamorous and fun events. Pure gold, right?
Sure, just ask the 35+ year-old foreigners who have checked me out in the digital sense. Jackpot.
Well, there goes my husband. And my dream of one day being on a match.com commercial. Because then and only then will I know that I've lived a full life.
Jumping on the Bandwagon
So okay. I talk a lot. I chat online at a frequent rate. Sometimes I may or may not text or call to express the few thoughts that I have over a period of time. Give or take any given day when I am in good spirits or am not insanely sick, I will gab my day away. I have no qualms, mind you, but I cannot believe that I have not blogged before now.
There is no point to my blog. Sorry, dear, sweet Reader. If you were expecting something intellectual, deep, or soul-searching look elsewhere. You want to chat politics? Sweet, go sit next to an intern at one of the local bars - you can identify them by their badges and seersucker suits. You want to talk about bars, social events or the boys I like? Then please be my guest. This is merely to entertain and to talk about myself. Because I? Am interesting. Or at least my parents say I am.
Who am I? Well, you may never know. I could tell you I'm a celebrity or some sick disgusting waste of a person but you'll just have to have a little faith. In case you are wondering, I'm a delightful mix of the two. I'm an ex-sorority president who works in my favorite city of Washington, D.C. I moved here two years ago after I graduated undergrad and I miss my cool fam and friends back home every day. It's aight though, I'm surviving.
And by surviving I mean rocking out. Daily.
Currently I'm at work. Don't judge. I'm not a slacker. "It's not that I'm lazy, Bob, it's that I just don't care." Amen, brother. That's exactly it. And, yesterday, I sent in my resignation letter because I'm starting grad school in September. So now it's like I have the worker's version of senioritis...and what's bad is that I never cared before, so now I REALLY don't care. Oy. It's going to be a long two months.
How did you enjoy my first stream-of-consciousness entry? Welcome to my world, folks. And don't you worry: the best is yet to come.
There is no point to my blog. Sorry, dear, sweet Reader. If you were expecting something intellectual, deep, or soul-searching look elsewhere. You want to chat politics? Sweet, go sit next to an intern at one of the local bars - you can identify them by their badges and seersucker suits. You want to talk about bars, social events or the boys I like? Then please be my guest. This is merely to entertain and to talk about myself. Because I? Am interesting. Or at least my parents say I am.
Who am I? Well, you may never know. I could tell you I'm a celebrity or some sick disgusting waste of a person but you'll just have to have a little faith. In case you are wondering, I'm a delightful mix of the two. I'm an ex-sorority president who works in my favorite city of Washington, D.C. I moved here two years ago after I graduated undergrad and I miss my cool fam and friends back home every day. It's aight though, I'm surviving.
And by surviving I mean rocking out. Daily.
Currently I'm at work. Don't judge. I'm not a slacker. "It's not that I'm lazy, Bob, it's that I just don't care." Amen, brother. That's exactly it. And, yesterday, I sent in my resignation letter because I'm starting grad school in September. So now it's like I have the worker's version of senioritis...and what's bad is that I never cared before, so now I REALLY don't care. Oy. It's going to be a long two months.
How did you enjoy my first stream-of-consciousness entry? Welcome to my world, folks. And don't you worry: the best is yet to come.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)