To bananas! Cheers!

2005-08-17 / 10:04 p.m.

I want the next Guster album to be released. I think that would make me really happy, or at least as happy as a new CD could.

Kroger's "Active Lifestyle" cereal with strawberries is just as good as�maybe better than�Special K Red Berries, and cheaper to boot. Boot, I say! Texture is slightly different, the flakes are a little bigger, and there seem to be more dehydrated strawberries per bowl, but it tastes the same. Neither strawberry + flakes cereal is as good as Kashi Organic Promise strawberry fields, but that's neither here nor there. The pleasant discovery of Active Lifestyle has almost erased the horrible trauma of Kroger brand vegetable juice.

School starts tomorrow, and I really don't know what to expect�not so much from my first classes, but from the program as a whole. Some of my fears were quelled during the orientation/advising activities. The doctoral student told me that graduates have a lot of leeway to market the degree as they want, and the specialization you choose isn't all that important, and won't box you unless you're super specific in the electives you choose. I also figured out that if the economic side of policy analysis makes me miserable, I can switch to a more managerial focus. It's not the best case scenario, but it'll be the same degree. My first economics class since Spring of 2001 (which begins Tuesday) will be the trial by fire I suppose. I'm relatively calm for the start of a new year. In a funny way, there seems to be less stress starting graduate school than there ever was starting a year of college. In the back of my mind, I know that if it isn't for me, I can quit and my life probably won't be impossible. Graduating college was never an option, it was something I knew I had to do to have the kind of life I wanted. Furthermore, I had to do well, so I could get into the graduate school I wanted. Graduate school will presumably help me find a more rewarding job with better pay, but I could probably find some work with just my BA, and eventually work up to doing something that I wanted to do. I'm not saying that graduate school is just a whim, or that I'm taking it lightly--I'm not. I'm just saying that the pressure is not quite so high.

Since this time last year, I've acquired a fair number of albums or copies of albums I love. This is due in no small part to the establishment of the Holy Alliance, but not totally. Anyway, Tuesday morning while I was on the treadmill of pain, I was thinking about all the new music been exposed to since coming back from Argentina. Thank you, Summer of 2004 to Summer of 2005 for introducing me to Guster, Spoon, Snow Patrol, Badly Drawn Boy, Ben Kweller, Nick Drake, Modest Mouse, Damien Rice and Elliott Smith. It was interesting to meet Wilco, Keane and Jeff Buckley, though I don't know if we'll ever be very close. I could have done without The Mars Volta or The Killers. Nothing personal, they're just not my type. Yay for new albums from Ben Folds, Beck (edit, 10:22 am) and Jimmy Eat World; Cake's "pressure chief" is worth mentioning, but I can't say it wasn't a disappointment.

Any of my readers had their tonsils out? Mine, while always kind of big from years of infection, have developed a new and annoying lump near the bottom that makes me feel like I've got something constantly suck in my throat. It isn't painful, just extremely annoying. If I can get medical insurance that will cover it on my own, or more likely via my mother (neither likely), I think I might like to go ahead and get it done. Other than the Oh-my-god-I'm-swallowing-my-throat-sensation, there have been several nasty consequences to them that I'm just sick of. Anyway, if you've had it done, did you have any complications? Did it keep you from regular activity for more than a couple of days?

Speaking of tonsils, Roger is finally feeling a little bit better. He's been quite sick for a long time, and has spent the better part of the last two weeks (maybe more?) at home. I feel awful that he feels so bad, and that I can't help him; I also miss him terribly. I know it's usually not good policy to provide updates on your boyfriend's recuperation on your journal (he managed to eat bananas and toast this morning!), but the thought of having him back to normal ("normal" in terms of Roger, and not normal in the general sense) soon makes me ecstatic.

Dear American public, why do you love Dr. Phil?! From what I've seen (switching to basic cable ensures that the good doctor is in several times a day), most of his advice is either: a) not that good, or b) absurdly obvious. Without questioning anything, you consume his values, his morals, and his ideas of right and wrong. Why think for yourself when Oprah's former legal advisor can run your life for you? You let him tell you how to raise your children, how to manage your finances, and how to relate to your spouse. He reaffirms your suspicion that your physical appearance is really, really important to making it in the world. He oversimplifies your personalities and your problems into neat and tidy types and gives you numerically listed steps to achieve your goals. All black and white, no gray. You even listen to his wife, for god's sake! Who knew a Ph.D. in Psychology from the University of North Texas gives the bearer such unquestionable wisdom. Furthermore, I think a lot of you Dr. Phil viewers are of the same genus as Jerry Springer Viewers. It's the same voyeuristic desire of seeing other people's life dramas. Maybe you can relate more to the bourgeois crises on Dr. Phil than the Baby Daddy drama on other Springeresque shows, but let's be serious: is the basic allure all that different? Not saying this is good or bad, but I get the impression a lot of Dr. Phil viewers would put their tastes on a higher plane. Meh, who knows. Aside from any reasonable problem I have with Dr. Phil, he just flat out annoys me. Texans are shady until proven otherwise in my book. Is that fair? No. Why don't you go home and cry about it. Maybe I'm being a little to hard on him, but I think I'm just never going to like anyone who makes money on creating mass produced self-help books and shows.

Wow, that was really long.

busy signal

2005-08-14 / 3:17 p.m.

I can't shake this baseless feeling of foreboding. I might be going a little bit crazy.

4, 3, 2, 1, not the crosshairs of a gun; it's actually a window.

2005-08-13 / 10:23 p.m.

I finished my painting! It was a good learning experience, and I think the next time I do something with acrylics, I'll have learned from the mistakes I made on this one. Anyway, it's not perfect, but my initial disappointment in it has been mitigated by finishing it, and I rather like it now. Since I'm a praise whore, I thought I'd post a picture. Anyone who likes it can comment and tell me how great I am. Just to clarify: the quadrants painted over the picture are supposed to be the panes of a window�see, it was supposed to be a fictional view out a window�I don't know if that's exactly clear.

detail...

can you play red rover while smoking?

2005-08-10 / 10:38 p.m.

Driving back to Athens last night, I made me mother read "The Polite Elephant" to me over the telephone. Even with her smartass asides about the strange interspecieality (I graduated college, so I can make up words now) of the characters, it still sounded a lot like it did when I was little. It simultaneously made me very happy and very sad. Spending time with mom lately is as much emotional tug-of-war as it ever is. The one side of me knows that's she's probably quite lonely and bored now. This side of me wants both to encourage her and spend time with her and get all the warm fuzzies you'd imagine getting from a mom. And then there's the other side, who's sick of being the target when she blows off steam and who feels antsy and caged in at home.

I'm worried about her, and it's driving me a little nuts. For someone who probably appears moderately callous, I think I'm prone to feeling above-average empathy for the people I really love. I want so badly to fix everything, I often can't do anything, and this leaves me frustrated and cranky. This same situation is also in play with Roger who is sick and there is exactly nothing I can do to make him better.

News in brief:
• I got the assignment for the professor I'll be working for this year. It isn't the one I was hoping for, but I think it'll be good for me to work with someone who's researching something that wouldn't necessarily have attracted me otherwise.
• I cancelled my cable and got a NetFlix membership. In the Queue: The English Patient, West Wing: season one, disc one, Bambi (hey roger.), The Office, West Wing: season one, disc two, and Home Movies
• I spilled a half a can of wet cat food on my food. Friskies between one's toes is a nasty, nasty sensation.
• While home, I embarked on a voyage into the attic to hunt down some pants from my fatter days, as I've now exceeded even my "fat jeans." So I found an old old old old pair of jeans probably from about 1994 which I was able to squeeze into, and I was astounded by how the cuts of jeans have changed in a decade. The top of these motherfuckers comes up to my bellybutton. I'm definitely not into today's super-low-I'm-exposing-four-inches-of-my-thong cuts, but these old blues felt foreign and uncomfortable. I don't really have too much of a gut on me, but the waistband of these jeans gouged the hell out of me when I sat down. Perhaps to inspire proper posture?

In conclusion: I think Dr. Phil might be one of the best examples of what's wrong in society today. I think an entry on this is forthcoming.

The End.

Meow?

2005-08-05 / 10:14 a.m.

The internet is magically back, go figure. Might as well post before work. Also, just to let you know, if you are applying for a business card, and your business is selling guns out of your garage, you're a shady character.

Eight things I heartily dislike:

• Treating charity or religion as fashion accessories. WWJD? He probably wouldn't go around wearing 5 livestrong knockoffs.
  
• That part of Athens that smells like a fart. I encounter it getting on the loop on my way home from work, and also on my way to Roger's new apartment.
  
• Shopping for pants. I hate shopping for pants. I'm going to set the clothing retail industry on fire.
  
• Ppl who dont hav time or brains 2 uz prpr english in their LJs emails ims n' stuff. Like im gunna believe that they dont have the time 2 do it. Does it really take that much more effort to complete such simple words as, "love," "too/to," or "later"? I think that people think that they're being cute when they use excessive and ridiculous abbreviations. I have news for you: if you are over 13, it is definitely not cute.
  
• My job.
  
• Toilet paper with lotion. Possibly the most un-absorbent material that could have been convieved for toilet paper, and is a gross texture to boot.
  
• Dell. This computer is a big disappointment.
  
• The Mall of Georgia on tax free weekend.

So yeah. As you might have extrapolated, I went shopping at Mall of Georgia this weekend. I knew it was a bad idea, but mom had some ridiculously good coupon for Penney's that expired Sunday, and offered to buy me some back-to-school clothes with it. I got fired from my job, and all I got was this crappy discount coupon! Anyway, taking into account that most of my clothes are too small for me now, and I'm pretty po', I didn't really want to pass up this offer. I guess it ended up being worth the pain, because I got a lot of clothes--two pairs of khakis (one nice, one more casual), a pair of jeans, a skirt, and a couple of tops--for about $55 bucks.

I've got this general, impossible-to-pinpoint nervousness frequently lately. Every few hours, I'll sit down to do something, and get struck with the feeling that I've done something very wrong, and that I've messed things up, brought some disastrous event on myself, but I just don't know what it is yet. But hey, we've all been there, right? Right?! Heh, anyway, just about everything else is going well. The ribbon magnets came in the other day; I'll photograph them soon so we can all bask in the glory of my wit. Oh! and I won something off the radio, which has never, ever, happened to me. Granted, it was Sunday morning at like 11:00, so about 8 people were listening, but still. I won a CD of a band called Ike. They're good, and they've got several catchy tunes, but my initial listen of their CD suggests that they're grossly lacking in originality.

That's all for now, I suppose. Time to go to work; which I am so sick of now, I can barely manage to make myself enter the building.

Here? No. gone for a few days.

2005-08-04 / 6:51 p.m.

I wrote an update. Unfortunately, the internet is down, and I can't seem to get an appointment in any reasonable amount of time. Expect multiple updates Tuesday. Sorry. :( Ch@rter sucks balls.

Are there man-eating sharks in Laguna beach?

2005-07-28 / 10:21 a.m.

Ben�s away message says, "Is anyone else sick of the bullshit?" and after and absurd day at work, fighting with the loan consolidation people, and watching 10 minutes of MTV�s "Laguna Beach," subsequently finding out that it is (supposedly) unscripted, I can heartily say, "Yes, Ben. I am sick of the bullshit."

Becoming increasingly nervous about starting school this fall. Most of it is good nervous�some bad though. First, I can�t imagine navigating the bureaucracy of a giant university. Second, I feel like this is above my head kind of new, like I�m going to get exposed as a fraud. There�s been some internal vacillation (there�s a GRE word for ya�, roger) lately regarding what I want to do with said degree, though the introduction and first chapter of Earth in the Balance has bolstered my will to get involved with environmental policymaking/implementation.

At work, I get my fair share of depressing calls. This is kinda� weird, considering I take credit card applications, orders from a (seemingly reputable) herbal supplement catalog, and orders from a wig catalog. At least three times in the last 6 weeks, some old lady has informed me of how hellish aging is and how this may be her last credit card/wig/bottle of calcium supplement. People being treated for cancer call in to ask why we can�t sell the only thing that seemed to boost their immune system. A woman called two weeks ago to ask if she could fill out her husband�s credit card offer over the phone because he had early onset Alzheimer�s�they were just barely middle aged, and they were buying a house together. Between the depressing people, and the general shitty monotony of the job, the occasional humorous call is valued and remembered. Yesterday, I got one of my all time favorites. It was a business credit card application, and the woman was mean and sour from the minute I took the call�barking questions at me, delivering her answers to mine is clipped, terse speech, and interrupting me at every turn. I could tell by her voice that she was either having a terrible day, or she was just an absolute hellbitch. So I get to the part where I ask her about the business.
"What�s the legal name of the business, ma�am?"
"Susie�s Clown Service." (name changed to keep me from doing anything illegal).
Clown service? She had to be kidding me. "Are you an owner, or authorized officer?" I ask, holding back the giggle inside.
"Yes! I�m Susie, this is my business, I own it! I thought I made that clear already." Her bitchiness was bouncing off me at this point, as I imagined this woman dressed up as a clown, bitching at children in her New Yorker accent. I couldn�t help but provoke her irritation a little at this point.
"Uh huh, right" I continue, "and what is the nature of the business, what service do you provide?"
"Clowns, clowns! We arrange clown performances at children's events. ::thick, exasperated, sigh::

Roger made a list of reasons to continue living which made me moderately happy. Next time an elderly caller counsels me to die before I get really old, I'm going to encourage them to stick around to at least long enough to see how Harry Potter 7 ends, and to get themselves a can of Jumex and a bottle of Admiral Nelson's. I mean, I know that getting old has got to be bad�I don't know anyone more terrified of aging than I am�but it seems that Harry Potter and alcohol has the potential to at least make the final days a little more comfortable. I'm rambling now. Time for work.

Temper, temper!

2005-07-24 / 11:12 a.m.

Harry Potter Personality Quiz by Pirate Monkeys Inc.

You should be worrying about U-No-Poo

2005-07-17 / 9:36 p.m.

Went to the mall today to replenish my supply of Clinique stuff; since it was a quick trip, Roger came and kept me company. In my glorious four years at Saint Agnes, I didn't really care much about what I looked like in going to class; while I'm not about to start primping for class now, I think I could afford to look a little tidier. I don't think I could bring myself to start wearing full-fledged makeup on a daily basis again, so I asked the Clinique Chick about tinted moisturizers and such. Big. Mistake. She was the most annoying salesperson on the planet. So mired in her prepared script that she didn't manage to answer a single question I was asking, the girl was artificially cheery enough to make me suspect that she was actually just a large wind-up toy. And--judging this book by its cover--dumb as shit to boot. So she’s talking it up about the different types of makeup, and she gets to the "Work out makeup." "Wait, wait," I say, stopping her mid speech, "Does the name of that makeup mean what I think it means?" She informs me that it is a waterproof light foundation that's good for wearing to the gym (and other wet places I suppose). Incredulous and horrified, I ask her who wears makeup to the gym. Okay, I know, I was just being a jackass at this point, but I hadn't had much sleep and I was feeling disappointed in a world where there are enough women concerned with their makeup running at the gym to warrant selling makeup for such occasions. So she continues to prattle on, informing us that, "her mom wears makeup to the gym all the time." Roger, with stunningly perfect timing, says, "Is your mother really that ugly?" Brilliant.

Friday night/Saturday morning we went to pick up Harry Potter. Enjoying it very much so far. I'm about halfway though, and anyone who spoils anything from me is getting punched in the mouth. I can't imagine how anyone would want to plow through this in a day! I'm already sad to be halfway done. Anyway, after last night's heavy drinking and an insufficient amount of sleep, I think I'm headed to bed now. I'll leave you with some pictures, because--let's be serious--only a handful of you can read above a second grade level, and pictures are fun!

Cat House!

Strawberries on angel food cake with whipped cream and honey. Sugar is how I keep Roger pacified.

Before we picked up "Half Blood Prince," I marked Roger (and myself) as a dark wizard!

Don't mess with a death eater.

Better wizards than you have lost buttocks, you know!

2005-07-15 / 10:14 a.m.

Fourteen-ish hours, and I�ll be in possession of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. I�m excited. I wish I had Harry Potter friends in Athens so I could host a pre-release party. As it is, if Roger�s other plans fall through we�re going to drink Butterbeer (Per Marilyn�s recipe�Butterscotch schnapps and cream soda) and he�s going to let me draw the dark mark on his arm. Wow, I didn�t think it was possible for me to be any cooler, but there you go.

I want to order the ribbons Monday. I told the chick I�d do it yesterday, but we�re still trying to get some other cool kids to hop on the band wagon. Five more participants and they�ll only be $4.99 a piece�currently it looks like they�ll be $6.49. Anyone who wants in on the order, please comment. They�ll be the typical yellow, ribbon-shaped magnets, and they�ll read (in block letters I think), �Support Jingoism.� C�mon, you know it�s clever.

If you sent me an IM in the last week or so, I probably didn�t get it. Shitty charter cuts me off every so often, so I don�t generally stay signed on all day here. It wouldn�t be that big a deal, but for the fact that I�ve stayed signed on at my house in Mayretta, and my mother can�t seem to understand my directions to sign me off. Yesterday, I was to her on the telephone, and she says, �A couple of people sent you those ring-a-ding messages on the computer. I think one of them was Hillary. She probably thinks you�re mad at her, because I just shut the box and left�� So yeah, just assume I didn�t get the message.

My job isn�t all that terrible, and I still dread going to work. The computerized thingie that let�s us request to the traffic department automatically rejects your break requests unless you�ve been on the clock for two hours. Yesterday, I drank about a gallon of coffee before work, and had to ask a supervisor for permission to go to the bathroom. I am not getting paid enough for this.

He's _not_ a pirate!

2005-07-14 / 10:54 p.m.

In days of yore when men were men and battles raged across the lands and glory swept the seas, there came upon the world stage a great leader whose courage and classical good looks quickly became the stuff of tabloids and tavern talk and, you guessed it, LEGEND. Horatio Nelson was his name: adventurer, true friend of the ladies, admiral of the greatest armada to ever set sail.

As seen on my capital-C-Classy bottle of $8.00 Admiral Nelson's Premium Rum. In response, Roger declares, "He's got a damn eye patch. Horatio Nelson didn't have an eye patch! They're thinking France Drake! The man who fucked the virgin queen."

I felt like this on my way home

2005-07-06 / 2:13 p.m.

It�s culinary experimentation night yet again. Tonight�s adventure: spinach and ricotta lasagna. Let�s hope it isn�t as bland as the Thai experiment a couple of weeks back.

The combination of picking up a disappointingly small paycheck, paying a devastatingly high electric bill, passing a dead kitten in the road, and spending too much time in the supermarket checkout looking at Star Magazine�s �Best and Worst Celebrity Beach Bodies,� has put me in a rather foul mood. So instead of writing, I�ll just stick a couple of pictures up. I finally downloaded a program to do batch re-sizes of JPEG files, so it�s much easier to include digital snapshots I take now, I see images being more abundant from here on out.

I bought this wall sconce (and its match) at a store in little five. I hung them up on either side of the keyboard to give Roger some faux elegance while he powers through Brazilian Holiday, and learns Moonlight Sonata.

Behold the duck overkill that is my bathroom. Mom bought the whole set on clearance when the store closed. Not pictured: matching shower curtain with duckie shower curtain rings. I shit you not. And I am 22 years old.

We bought the sunday paper. It was nice to relax and read the paper for awhile....

But then things got ugly. :(

Here's Lucy sleeping on the glory that is free-ladies-room-sofa.

I guess that's about it for now. I've got to go fetch the laundry from the public dryer.

Something about the bubbles

2005-07-03 / 10:36 p.m.

So I spent Saturday afternoon through Sunday afternoon with my mother, and it was a mixed bag, ranging from depressing to hilarious. That�s how it usually is, I suppose. Saturday night, we split a bottle of moderately good champagne purchased in honor of my college graduation and toasted to her birthday. After a couple of drinks, I got her to spill a few stories of youthful debauchery, but I ended up with a good bit of her honest insecurity and fear about the future. Still, when all the figures were considered, I went to bed in the emotional pink. I had a rarely solid sense of satisfaction in my life and the decisions I�ve made, and everything just seemed right and good in my own little bubble--though that might have been the champagne buzz. That's not to say that I don't feel a considerable amount of anxiety for and over my mother, and about the rest of the world for that matter; I just felt unusually confident and content in my own history. The evening did leave me with an uncomfortable consciousness of how quickly time has passed. Mom asked about what various high school friends were doing, and we entertained each other with memories of people who are�for whatever reason�no longer part of our lives.

I want to try going to church again. I want to re-approach the whole thing as an adult. who thinks for herself. or at least tries to. The last major period of church-going was spurred by my mother's reaction to my father's death, and ended mostly because of the irration over seemingly constant discussion of and pressure for monetary donation. Anyway, I want to I can't decide whether to just go to services at a local church, or to try to the Lutheran student organization. Honestly, the instant attachment of congregants to new blood is one of the things that tends to scare me away from church. It's irrationally stressful, I know, but I dislike the pressure and it feels forced and desperate sometimes. I think that I might get a lot of that at a student-centered church. I'm wondering if just going to a regular morning service would give me the bit of anonymity that I need to get started.

I think I�m going to get yellow ribbon magnets that read, �support jingoism� printed. Anyone want to go in on the cost with me? It�s cheaper if you order more.

I�ve decided that I officially hate my job. Granted, I still hate it less than all of the other stupid summer jobs I�ve held (mostly because it pays a whole lot more, and I get to sit down), but I�ve now gotten to the point where I spend more time fantasizing about how I�m going to quit than working. I think that in my last two weeks or so, I�ll just start progressively adding random things into the disclaimer and the really scripted stuff. My theory is that if I say odd things in my telephone voice, it�ll take awhile for anyone to notice. �By applying, you are authorizing Bank of XXX to verify your credit and employment history, and to wave at your mother in the supermarket. Please allow 10 to 14 business days for processing. The Bank of XXX credit card is issued by Bank of XXX N.A. USA. This application was brought to you by the letter Q and the number 6. Thank you, and have a nice day. Party on, wayne!�