Hometown: The Roch, MI (aka. The Crotch, aka. Crotchscratcher, aka. Crotchmolester, aka. Rochester)
Currently Living: Clawson, MI
Height: 5'8
Weight: Ha ha, yeah right
Favorite Color: Blue (preferably navy)
Profession: Researcher
Favorite Nickname: Trick, Sloan
Favorite Drinks:Vodka Tonic, Guinness, Diet Dr. Pepper, Dirty Martinis, red wine
Favorite TV Show: Friends, Sex & The City, Project Runway, The Amazing Race, Iron Chef America
Least Favorite TV Show: A Baby Story, I Love Lucy, Martha Stewart, Everybody Loves Raymond, every hour long drama
Favorite Books: The History of Love, Beloved, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, Fight Club, A Prayer for Owen Meany, The of Being, SurUnbearable Lightness vivor, Empire Falls, The Corrections, The Bell Jar
Favorite Movies: Little Miss Sunshine, Anchorman, The 40 Year Old Virgin, Wordplay, American Beauty, Life is Beautiful, Amelie, Breakfast Club, Singin In The Rain, Sixteen Candles, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Sleeping Beauty, Dancer in the Dark, Duets, The Virgin Suicides, The Manchurian Candidate (1962), Austin Powers I, II & III, My Best Friends Wedding, Moulin Rouge, Tommy Boy, Billy Madison, The Shining, Gone With The Wind, Bridget Jones' Diary, Chicago, Love Actually
Guilty Pleasure Movies: Xanadu, Dirty Dancing, Overboard, Groundhog Day, Steel Magnolias, 10 Things I Hate About You, Bond movies, Footloose, Clue, Murder By Death, High Spirits, A Cinderella Story
What I Do Too Much: Check email, crossword puzzles, complain about my job to friends and family,
Obsessions: sushi, Indian food, ranch dressing, toenail polish, song lyrics, hands, awards shows, symmetry, avocados, maps, dreams, This American Life, the display in my car that tracks my MPG
Pet Peeves: loud eaters, slurping, gulping, arrogance, snoring, bad grammar, repetition, late mergers, ripping cardboard, the word "chunky", intolerance, couples in a restaurant sitting on the same side of a booth, pop-up ads, privacy manager, men that drive without shirts on, being foolish, unfairly jumping to conclusions, being made fun of, cat-calling, people who type too hard
Greatest Fear: crossing bridges
Relaxing Activites: late night drives to sing by myself, headstands, hot baths,
Wish I Was: Ansel Adams, Jenifer Aniston, in love, living alone
Prized Possessions: ring from my grandparents, flower pot of my Grandma's, electric blanket (temporarily broken), tongue scraper, my bed
Craziest Thing Ever Done: getting a tattoo, strip Jenga
Things I Eventually Want To Do: skydive, buy a guitar, learn how to play the aforementioned guitar, take flying lessons, travel to France, write a novel, learn how to play the harp, tap dancing lessons, run a marathon
Monday, November 29, 2004 Breathe in for luck breathe in so deep, this air is blessed, you share with me....I just started participating in this research study a couple weeks ago comparing which flu vaccine works better -- the shot or the nasal spray. So I was randomized to one or the other or either placebo. So I don't know for sure if I actually received the vaccine or not. Part of the deal of the study is, when I get sick, I need to notify them immediately so that they can record my symptoms, severeity, duration, and if I can, come in so they can do a throat culture. If I didn't get paid extra for the throat swab, I sure as shit wouldn't do it again, because unlike the gentle, tender touch of my pediatrician and even my doctor now, this woman went to work with her cotton swab on my epiglottis. I think my throat hurts more now than when I got there. What I had forgotten about though was that just for coming in, they give you a $10 gift card to go spend on remedies. Mine was thoughtfully spent on 7Up, chicken soup, Tylenol, honey, and a thermometer.
Did you know when you sleep for 4 hours in the middle of the day when you're sick you can have dreams of walking around downtown Detroit carrying your tennis shoes (I don't really know why they wouldn't be on my feet), and running into so many random random people that you knew in high school riding around on their bikes trying to get home before the sun set, but not wanting to fight traffic on the highway? Did you also know that if you have enough berry zinger tea, your teeth will feel like they're going to rot out of your head?
Back to my archnemesis: oh the dreaded research paper. Do you think this should serve as a warning flag that perhaps I shouldn't be in research if every moment spent working on my research paper makes me want to have a bonafide temper tantrum?
Pleasant question to leave you with:
Would you rather.... have your romantic moments scored by an Air Supply soundtrack
or
make the sounds of a pinball machine during intercourse?
My answer? "You're every woman in the world to me...."
7:17 PM
Sunday, November 28, 2004 I want you to know what's going on in my mind, I thought I was immortal a little while ago, I thought I was right but now I know, I'm wrong about everything....
Preface to today's post: As my ass will be planted in the same chair for the next obnoxious number of hours writing and/or starting my paper that I've been pissing and moaning about for the last couple weeks or so, in order to maintain some kind of sanity, I will be taking frequent breaks to write parts of this post. Because if I were to sit down and write it all at once right now, I would 1) forget things and 2) not want to actually write my paper after writing the blog (the order of which was debated at breakfast this morning). So you should probably start at the bottom and read upwards. Or stand on your head and read rightways-up. Enjoy.
11:59 PM
Thank you to everyone who I've spent time with in the last couple days. Everyone has been insanely overwhelmingly wonderfully nice. Thank you to everyone who bought me a drink, made me laugh, laughed at me. I've always said that I'm the kind of person who takes a nice compliment, an innocent gesture, a good moment, and locks it away in my crazy little head only for my own enjoyment. To me, somehow by sharing those good moments kind of takes something away from it. Makes it more common and less special. So I've had so many quality moments of spending time with you all over the last couple days, that I'll have tons of little moments to make me smile for weeks to come. I have a card on bulletin board that says, "We do not remember days, we remember moments." Amen sista.
And because Rochester shrinks everytime I go out there, last night, I ran into Jonas, Kurt, and Chris at the brewery. My good fortune, certainly. I was happy and warm fuzzy to see them (I swear there was no relation to any of the martinis in my veins), and they were kind enough to drive me back to Suzy's, in a ride where no sapling was safe. It was good to see them, but GODDAMMIT CHRIS! START WRITING YOUR OWN BLOG!! Because until then, I will not include any flattery here about your hot bod.
9:26 PM
Last night, in celebration of Suzy's 6th 29th birthday, we had a great group of people to come out for dinner -- Janet, Steve, Sabrina, Tom, Laura, Kevin, the birthday girl, and myself. And I think we can all safely say that no one will ever look at a loaf of bread in a bag the same ever again. Nor will anyone ever eat an ice cream sundae without at least considering hanging onto that spoon with two hands. And if you'd like me to let you in on the joke, just think about how you would brush your teeth with two hands, and you'll probably figure out the basis of all these jokes. But it's a safe bet that it's probably a dirty one.
Everything about last night was pretty great. Especially that the birthday girl had a great night and a great day all around. See, sometimes having the waitstaff sing to you isn't so bad a couple glasses of wine into the night.
9:23 PM
Do you ever watch Inside the Actor’s Studio where, at the end, they ask people “Which profession other than your own would you not like to attempt?” Well, I can say with certainty that I woud not want to attempt being a chauffeur. Although if it's good company, I can't really complain. A job that would be interesting though would be a cab driver. Especially if you're driving two hungover, slightly slaphappy, and extremely thirsty individuals to a non-existant 7-11. Especially if you have a good enough sense of humor to ask if the "Hard Salami Cafe" is a gay restaurant.
By the way, I swear that I don't know anyone who gets a little teary-eyed when watching Bridget Jones. I also don't know anyone who rewinds parts of Bridget Jones when missing crucial dialogue.
8:05 PM
Update:
~ Blogger web site is being a finicky bitch.
~ Progression of paper: not very good at all. Tomorrow is going to be a miserable night.
~ Progression of sore throat since last post: about 10 million times worse.
~ Probability of my having a fever: I’d say it’s a pretty sure thing .
~ Probability of developing a fever if you spent any time with me this weekend: I’d say it’s a pretty sure thing.
~ Probability of me getting my ass kicked for calling in sick the Monday after Thanksgiving two years in a row (legitimately!!): I’d say it’s a pretty sure thing.
Things I would recommend doing at the bar: coming up with survey questions. Facilitating interesting, slightly non-conventional conversation. You may come across people who think you’re off your rocker, but then maybe I don’t want to hear your answer anyway. So we got some good responses to the question “What’s your guilty pleasure?” But the shot for the birthday girl at midnight may have eliminated my ability to remember what the answers actual were. (note: mine is Clay Aiken, Tom’s is “Open Arms” by Journey, and Suzy’s was Barry Manilow). Sabrina wasn’t feeling well, so Suzy offered to drive her back to her car in Royal Oak. The tricky part is that it was Tom’s car, and once they left, Tom and I were stranded in Grosse Pointe. Well, technically, we weren’t stranded until we were dropped off at his sister’s house. Before that though, I lost my phone in the easiest place to lose a phone – my pocket, Tom was wandering the neighborhood trying his sister’s key in random houses, and I had a very extensive conversation with someone who I apparently deemed worthy to give my phone number, but whose name still eludes me. Going to sleep around the time the sun comes up spells for a very very long Saturday.
6:32 PM
The four of us started off with dinner in Greektown and then off to the casino. I'm not a gambling person by nature, or at least not where moola is concerned. Plus we've discussed gambling at length in my stats classes, so just watching the games makes my head whirl with numbers and probabilities. One thing that we established though was that Suzy is a cooler. Tom had to wait until the ladies were safely camped out at the bar before "going to the bathroom" with a slight detour back to the blackjack table to make up his losses while Suzy was watching. And I guess breaking even makes one want to wear his friend's scarf on his head, a look popular with little old ladies the world over. The woman working the ticket booth didn't think it was all that funny though.
The next stop was Old Shillelagh, an Irish bar where the musicians drink more than any other musicians (and more than most people) I've ever seen before. But they do sing along songs right, and swaying back and forth to the songs becomes reflexive. The pitchers emptied and refilled themselves as though by magic! And so then it was on to Grosse Pointe.
All day on Friday, I kept repeating over to myself, "I'm not going out tonight. I do not want a crazy night out and an all day hangover on Saturday." So as soon as Suzy called to ask if I was still interested, I had to answer, "Sure!" No hesitation, no second-guessing, no need-for-convincing. I think I have a spine around here somewhere, but I'm not sure.
So instead, the night started with a round of drinks at Woodruff's with Sabrina, Tom, and Suzy, and finished the following day at about noon with a cab ride home from Grosse Pointe. Would you like to hear the rest? Well stay tuned, because I need to grab something that's going to soothe my worsening sore throat. WTF is up with me being sick again??
3:57 PM
On Launch at Yahoo where you make your own radio station, for some artists, even if you rate them, they don't get played. Something to do with copyrights or record company royalties or something, but it is noted that some artists were pending and they were just trying to work it out with the record companies. And apparently something got worked out, because about half the people I've rated are suddenly getting played, and I'm in HEAVEN. Diana Krall? Counting Crows? Ryan Adams? Finally being added to my playlists? HEAVEN.
1:41 PM
First things first. When we did the 3-Day Walk, we had the Book of Questions, which consisted of thoughtful interesting questions. But they weren't "strange" per se, but mostly pretty standard. But I did have another book that didn't get much play called, "Would you rather?" courtesey of Amy. And it is now clear that the true destiny of this book was not for me to use during the walk, but to post the questions here. I was trying to explain to Suzy and Tom last night that the questions were just bizarre as hell, but not having any examples lingering on the tip of my tongue, I couldn't quite explain why. But now that I have to book in hand, I think you'll understand what I mean. There are mulitple different sections of the book, but for now I'll bypass the ones on curses, deaths, and tortures and focus on the questions about sex because, well, what would you expect from me?
Would you rather.... experience orgasm upon hearing the word "pancake"
or
reflexively belt out the chorus of "Come On, Eileen" upon reaching climax?
Things to consider: family brunches, breakfast at IHOP
My answer? FLAPJACKS! FLAPJACKS! OH YES! FLAPJACKS!
Friday, November 26, 2004 And so it is, just like you said it would be, life goes easy on me....Slightly belated Happy Thanksgiving! Just like me to be just a day or two behind on everything.
Back during Thanksgiving in 1984 (it may have been 1985), our dad had acquired a video camera. I don't remember if he had rented it or bought one (the one he ended up purchasing makes the cameras currently used by news reporters look like a handheld, this thing was such a beast). So we have this videotape that has become a bit of a legend in our family. Because it was all of my brothers and sisters, minus 20 years, all not quite knowing what to do with this new medium of VIDEO RECORDING. So we all went on to be incredibly goofy -- me chomping on my Cap'n Crunch, Brian holding a pencil between his upper lip and his nose, Suzy doing split leaps in the doorway down the hall. I used to hate watching this video, because I was probably the biggest goof out of all of us, and I always just kind of felt like it ended up being an opportunity for us to all pick on me. But now, I kind of wish I knew who has the video. I'm not sure if the 'rentals took it with them to FLA or if they handed it off to one of the kids to pull out and watch on holidays.
So in absence of the videotape to watch yesterday, we sat around and told stories about each other instead. I must admit that one of the greatest things about a hot tub, is that when in it, you're forced to spend quality time together talking. I can't tell you how many great times and conversations we've had since Laura and Kevin invested in the hot tub (best buy ever!). My niece and nephews were loving hearing the stories about their mom and dad and aunties and uncles. From me knocking down the hutch/shelf in our bedroom while Laura was babysitting, to forgetting Brian at KMart, to tricking Kevin with the "My ice cream smells strange," line, to Kevin breaking one of the chairs at our grandparent's place in Port Austin, to Suzy doing lemondrops on the monkey bars and splitting her lip open. If I could have imagined one perfect thing that I would have wanted to be doing yesterday, I don't think I could have come up with anything better. Except for the indulging in gluttonous amounts of food part, but that was effectively taken care of as well. I don't know how anyone could be more thankful for what they have than I was yesterday.
The one similarity between the old videotape and yesterday too was that during the Thanksgiving back in the day, there was a significant coating of snow on the ground. Which was right on par yesterday. I can't remember the last time we've had a white Thanksgiving. But it made things kind of pretty to look at from the windows. And it made things even more obnoxious when covered in ice. Especially if it happens to be your sister's porch step that you fall off of while carrying a heaping laundry basket in styletto boots. But upon rereading that sentence, I was kind of askin' for it huh?
Well, I have a date at the gym to work off a couple forkfulls of what I ingested yesterday. At least this way I can pretend I'm doing something useful right? I hope you had a lovely day yesterday! Unless you're one of the crazies that went shopping at 5am. Then I retract my kind comments, YOU CRAZY PERSON! Kisses.
10:05 AM
Tuesday, November 23, 2004 I just want to sing a song with you....Let's hear it for the 2 day work week! Except that today will end up being a back to back stretch of roughly 16 hours. But that's ok! Did I mention 5 day weekend?! Days? 5? Vacation? Holiday? Fun? Yay?
Today is going to be random spout off day.
Once again, yesterday at the gym, I was unarmed, having showed up without my "Supersonic" lyrics. Curses!
I still haven't started my 15 page paper. Perhaps something I can do at work tonight. Maybe I'll start with the references first to actually have a few of the pages filled with something.
Lisa's library recently received her Jem CD back from the lendee, and I've been listening to it non-stop since Saturday. Only to be reminded a day late, that she was in fact in concert on Sunday. Curses! (note: if you think that you don't know who Jem is, you'd be mistaken. Her songs have been cropping up everywhere, most notably the Desperate Housewives promos, promos for some show on TNT, and most recently for the new flick Closer, although Damien Rice is also used for those too. Shit, I'd go see the movie for those two songs alone).
Two quick things I have to say about the Pistons/Pacers brawl (I don't want to belabour this considering that five zillion articles have been written about it): 1) It could and probably would have happened anywhere, but it's unfortunate that we Detroiters have shown ourselves as the short-fused heathens that we are. 2) I think they should punish every person who threw and/or spilled their beer. Have you been to The Palace lately? Those damn things are like $8 a pop. They should be punished for not taking a little more pride in their alcoholic beverages.
My coffee pot is making some crazy noises. It's imperative that I ensure its complete functionality. Kisses.
10:18 AM
Sunday, November 21, 2004 Lift my days, light up my nights....You know what's fun? Having a crush. Because crushes are so innocent and chock full of unbridled hope. And having the image of someone in your imagination as completely perfect is the best way to go. At this stage, he has a charming but sweet demeanor. He has perfect hands, noticeably wedding band absent, and hair to die for. He doesn't forget to call me when he says he's going to. He doesn't tighten jars and lids too tightly so I can't get them off. He doesn't snore. He hasn't let down any of my expectations at all. And sure, maybe I haven't actually had a conversation with him yet, but he is a reason that I get out of bed to go to work with a slightly more noticeable spring in my step. And inevitably I'll either 1)never speak to him directly or 2)make such glamorous expectations for him, he'll of course fail to live up to them. But until then, there's that feeling akin to being in 9th grade. Where I would look forward to English class 3rd hour so that I could sneak glances across the room at my soul-devouring crush. Where I would plan my routes in the halls to pass him by. (note: said crush did eventually fall into category #2). Where did these post-worthy thoughts about my crush come from, you ask? Well, he decided to make a cameo in my dreams last night as one of Stephanie and my new roommates (he was incredibly polite as I cleared out a shelf for him in the bathroom closet). And as always, dreams have that intense emotional aspect to them, so much so that I wake up convinced that I'm in love.
In other news, I think my liver is going on strike. If it had the option of walking off the job, I'm sure that it would. You'd think that the horrid, wretched feeling of being hungover from too many white cosmos and glasses/bottle of red wine would stamp a permanent reminder on your memory to NOT DO IT AGAIN. But just a few short hours, a nap, and a couple of bottles of water later, you can be ready for another round. Although much more tame the second time around (I'm honestly still shocked that I could bring any glass containing alcohol to my lips without yarfing). At least something got through that thick head of mine. Friday night was an absolutely amazingly delicious dinner courtesy of Kelly and her brother Brian in honor of Suzy's birthday. We're talking sun-dried tomato dip, spinach salad, orange roughy in a lemon and white wine sauce with parmesean cous cous and julienned mixed veggies. So damn good. And even though I passed out before 11pm, I still had a good time. Last night was the 2nd annual progressive dinner party with Suzy and her neighbors. Fabulous on all courses! I even had the pleasure (mmm...sort of) of helping with the hand-made pasta noodles. Which is a task that I've always sworn was way way too much work for the goodness of the product. But I may retract my statement considering that dinner was amazing. And it's probably a good thing that I was pretty full by dessert, or else my ever-expanding ass would be going on strike along with my liver.
And like any good Sunday, it's time to get some homework done. There's a 15-page paper looming over my head that is just begging for me to actually start it. Sure. Maybe just after watching a little football though...and don't get me started on football with those damn Buckeyes....I'm still recovering from that. K. Have a happy Sunday.
11:43 AM
Friday, November 19, 2004 The 'S' is for super and the 'U' is for unique, the 'P' is for perfection and you know that we are freaks....There is a faction of women that go to my gym, that I swear, have met by destiny. That some serendipitous force has brought them all together. Because they are all essentially clones of each other. They generally only work out during the day (they all attend the same aerobics class on Fridays), so when I'm periodically on the nocturnal schedule, I'll get to enjoy (debatable) their antics.
And how to describe these women? Unabashed? Brazen? I prefer (and I think they would approve), ballsy. They're the kind of women who, even though you're doing your best to avoid overhearing their conversation, their voices are just loud and brassy enough that there's no avoiding it. That from across the gym you'll hear, "I spend all day picking my underwear out of my ass as it is, why would I intentionally shove a piece of floss up there in the first place?" Or, my favorite, "A bottle of wine isn't going to give me the worst case of gas like that dish my cousin always brings over for Thanksgiving." These are the kind of women you would imagine getting drunk at their husbands' holiday party for the stamping plant and get up and sing a karaoke rendition of "Sweet Home Alabama" like the whole of the Confederacy depended on it.
And maybe I wouldn't be intrigued enough to devote an entire post to them, but I think it's because there are about 7 or 8 of them that I'm mystified that they've all managed to convene together and share their soul-mateness. Shit, I'm so happy when I find people that recognize my lapse into Friends quotes, I couldn't imagine the bliss of having that many people that are exactly like you. Maybe I'm jealous. Maybe I wish that I could explain to them what "indoor" voices are. Maybe I wish I could still wear red socks with the heart lace ruffles that you fold over after tucking your stirrups in to them without looking ridiculous. Maybe I just need to try going to the gym in the evening instead.
You know what I do honestly wish though. There's one CD that they play periodically that is actually one of the aerobics instructor's tapes. And whenever it rolls around to "Supersonic," the old school jam by JJ Fad, I sooooo wish I could bust out the lyrics. Because half the women in my gym will go to town on this song. And sometimes a white girl just wants to show what she's made of. Next time I should make sure that I come armed with my lyric sheet. Because that wouldn't make me look cool or anything.....
Alright. Grocery store bound. Before signing off though, I'd like to take a moment to thank my good friends at Comcast. Because of their failure to show up to fix our cable between the quoted hours of 8-10am, I managed to accomplish every single non-techno related task to do around the house (it's really quite shocking how much of your life can be sucked away by television and the Internet). Now I have a clean closet, rearragned drawers, clean room, repaired bracelet, hemmed jacket, ironed shirts, and a categorized grocery list. Time to get to that. Kisses.
2:50 PM
Thursday, November 18, 2004 And whoever said there's nothing new under the sun, never thought much about me....Here's me happy that the Detroit City Police Department have other things on their plate to worry about than drivers ever-so-slightly speeding on Woodward. Or girls with their heads up their asses rocking out in their car. Yesterday when I was driving to work, I was blissfully excited that it was almost 10am, and not between 4-5am, like every other day that I had to be at work this week. So I was taking the opportunity to sing some Refreshments at the top of my lungs. So when I heard the siren whoop, I was manically looking around in my rearview and off to the drivers side, when I spotted a car pulled over on the opposite side of the road. So I figured that's what I heard. When the siren came again, I freakishly looked in my rearview trying to figure out why it sounded so damn loud, but there was no police car behind me. Probably because she was DRIVING RIGHT NEXT TO ME. I don't look at people in cars around me usually when I'm driving (unless I'm in traffic), and I honestly thought the car was a cab, not a cop car. So all she did was mouth the words "slow down" to me before speeding off, cutting off another driver and making an illegal left turn. And for the record, I was not going more than 5mph over thank you very much. I have many other thoughts to share on the drving habits of individuals on Woodward, but this is a long enough paragraph already.
And so the best time of the year begins. Yes, holidays. And I'm not saying this for the obvious reasons like spending time with friends and family, or for celebrating...ohhh....I don't know, the birth of Jesus maybe? But really, it's all about the free eats. We have this giant white board at work where we put up calendars for two months (this month and next) where we track our scheduled studies. But as soon as November rolls around, we erase October, and fire up December (complete with red and green dry-erase markers and an appropriate, although slightly mis-shapen drawing of something holiday-esque. This task usually falls on my shoulders, and my freakish turkey has no beak, but does have a giant tooty grin). But really the intention for this month, is not so much to track our experiments and scheduling of the bedrooms (that statement making my place of employment sound distinctly like a whorehouse), but to reflect daily on when and where we will be acquiring free eats.
First, the constructing of the December calendar starts with crossing off all days from the 24th to the 31st. With giant bold green letters saying LAB CLOSED! It makes me happy. And then, as the invites trickle in, we write in where exactly all of the parties are at. The benefit of being a part of like 5 different departments is that there are 5 different parties to attend. And they're usually not a big deal, but this year, our pulmonary party (doesn't that sound like a bunch of people listening to their lungs with stethescopes while actually blowing on party horns?), is at the Rattlesnake Club in Detroit. I don't know who made the call for the fancy pants get together this year, but I'd like to shake his/her hand. Plus there's our research potluck which is one of my highlights of the year. Ahh yes, so much goodness and fuzzy feelings to look forward to next month! And this is the point that I express my unhappiness of the results when I stepped on the scale yesterday morning. I'm back into the going-to-the-gym groove, as I pretty much constantly have a bag of workout clothes in my car. I'm shooting for breaking even.
Well, time to get back to hiding my envy of staring at someone while they're sleeping. Laters.
6:19 AM
Sunday, November 14, 2004
Note: I acknowledge that my photo links haven't been working, so in order for you to see what I look like a South Park character, I'll have to do some tinkering. Hold tight and hopefully I'll eventually have things fixed.
1:33 PM
And there's too much going on, but it's calm under the waves, in the blue of my oblivion....One goal I think I need to set for myself is to try to write a little bit more of this damn thing during the weekend, so that when I get around to it, there aren't three full days to try to explain in one shot. Because that seems to be where the bulleted lists come from. And where full days get reduced to "Yesterday (Thursday, Saturday, etc) was so much fun/a great day,". Much like the rest of my life, I can accomplish things much better and far more efficiently when they're broken up into single tasks (picked up from What About Bob? perhaps?). And when I let time go by, writing it up becomes one beastly task that I don't feel like doing. And then I end up skipping over tons of amusing details simply out of sheer laziness.
So now that I've spent a full paragraph complaining about having too much to write, you're still going to get a bulleted weekend recap. Even though I have scores of randomness that I've been mentally saving up, we'll see how much I feel like writing that once this is done. Before I start into this, I'll give an preface, saying that my voice has, for the most part, been shoddy at best. I still sound like the octogenarian chain smoker, but by the end of the day (read: end of the night at the bar after shouting over a general din) it's pretty reduced. So when reading this stories, you can imagine me honking like a gander during most conversations.
~ Always the easy convince, Suzy called on Thursday night to see if I was interested in meeting her friends Chris and Mike (we were also accompanied by Kelly, Todd, and Charles) at a jazz club in "Ferndale". Which actually means Detroit, in a pretty shady area. But the club, Baker's, is apparently a pretty famous place, rumored to be the longest continually operated jazz club in the world, having played host to any famous name you can think of (Charlie Parker, Sarah Vaughan, you name 'em). I've never actually been to a jazz club before, and not ever seen a band perform that has at least 15 musicians and be able to sit up close to watch them play. And from the moment we walked in the door, there was something so unique and intimate about having that many people playing in such a small area. It's been a long time since I've heard the sound of saxophones and trombones that weren't high schoolers playing them in a parade. Something enjoyable to experience. My favorite though, hands done was the drummer. Maybe because he was sitting closest to us, but I still can't figure out how one can get each hand and each leg to be working at entirely different beats, going in different directions, none at the same rate. Getting my two legs working in opposite directions to walk proves challenging enough for me sometimes. It was pretty amazing, and if I still had that flute I played in middle school....oh who am I kidding, I would have sold it off for parts a long time ago.
~ Friday, I was damn determined to stay in for the night, citing health requirements of a long restful sleep. It's a good thing I'm a pushover and decided to mend myself with vodka tonics instead. Ohhhh the vodka tonics. I met Kelly, Suzy, Shelly, and Shannon at Tom's for some pre-fun. After eats, a couple rounds, and a conversation involving the phrase, "Make a move or get out," we headed over to Cinq, a bar that I recall mentioning loving for its name alone. But that I think I love in general now, partly because on the flat screens around the bar, they had on Fight Club, and although you couldn't hear the sound, it was nice to occassionally look up and see Brad Pitt's chiseled abs adorning the walls. After Suzy and Shannon called it an early night, Kelly and took it upon ourselves to close the place down. I was genuinely surprised when the lights came on.
But holy crap did we have a blast. I remember having an extended long conversation with someone about running the marathon and about the 3-day walk. I got a couple compliments on my smile, which although pretty cliche, I seem to have gotten a lot lately. Rule of thumb though, you should be careful who you give your phone number to. Because if you're not careful, his friend may call you in the middle of the night after you've gotten home and passed out. And his friend may have the dirtiest mouth ever created. It's a good thing I'm not easily offended by four-letter words that start with "c". In fact it's a good thing that I would actually laugh out loud at that. Loud enough to probably piss off my neighbor downstairs. And if you're really lucky, the guy who originally got your number to won't call you at all.
~ When Amy and I were little, right around this time of year, our mom would go to the mall and pick up one of our most treasured items. The Wishbook. I don't even know what catalog it was (Sears? JC Penny?) but it was just called the Wishbook. And we would pour over the pages with the toys in it at least a couple hundred times. So much so that the pages must have been worn from zealous page-turning and the hope of 7-year olds. I can remember thinking about how I would play with the Barbies and fashion ensembles that were on those pages, as we would carefully craft our lists to Santa.
Things haven't changed all that much as a 25-year old, except now for me, the catalogs have changed to IKEA and any kind of scrapbook supply catalog. Because even now when I look at them, I envision my apartment with white Tullsta chairs and an Amiral birch veneer entertainment system. Or I envision the glorious, beautifully laid out pages of the scrapbook formulating in my head.
To get to the point here, yesterday, Amy hosted a scrapbooking party where after showing you some of the basics and the neat tools to facilitate scrapbooking, you get a catalog to shop to your heart's content. And more than anything that I actually purchased, I'm going to love the catalog the most -- you should see how worn the other catalogs I have are. It kind of sounds like porn doesn't it? But we had so much fun scrapbooking (you can stop laughing now, thanks) in spite of Kelly and I being so horribly hungover. It's can be difficult to actually assmeble photos when your hands are shaking uncontrollably from dehydration. After we went to dinner and we got our fill of fresh Mexican food!, we were feeling much better. Such a fun afternoon, and now everyday when I come home, I can run to the mailbox in anticipation of my corner rounder and tropical vacation sticker set.
~ The plan for yesterday night was to go see Bridget Jones's Diary 2. But apparently the stars were not aligned and the forces of fate were working against us big time. Kelly's computer has a virus where, the computer works, and you can still surf the net, but you can't type anything in. Which makes searching for movie times online impossible when you can't enter a zip code or city. And because we don't absorb advertising very well, we couldn't remember that magic number you can call for movie times. So out comes the archaic phone book. After calling movie theatre #1, the movie wasn't showing there. So we consult Suzy for suggestions on a different theatre. But movie theatre #2 isn't in the phone book, so we bite the bullet and pony up $1.75 to use the damn information service on Kelly's cell. Movie times: 8:10 and 10pm. The likelihood of two hungover girls making it awake until midnight, notgonnahappen. Likelihood of Suzy getting to the theatre by 8:10, notgonnahappen.
So Suzy opts not to go to the movie, and Kelly and I start shopping around for another, closer theatre. Theatre #3 is also not in the phone book so there goes another $1.75 for information. Movie times: 7:05 and 9:45pm. Both, notgonnahappen. So it's on to theatre #4 and another call to information. Theatre #4 isn't showing the movie, but the nice phone operator suggests theatre #5 which is showing the movie. Movie time: 8:45. Juuuusst right. So we make our own popcorn and buy pops, stash them in a big purse, and head out to theatre #5 over a half an hour early. At this point we've probably spent more time trying to figure out how/where/when to go see the movie that the actual length of the movie itself.
So you know what I'm going to say next right? Of course we get there (after I discover that I apparently cross streets without any regard for traffic lights), and the movie is already sold out. We would have stood on the sidewalk in stunned annoyance and disappointment a little longer if it wasn't so damn cold outside. So instead of fulfilling our mission, we went back to Kelly's and watched the first Bridget Jones instead. I was hoping for some miraculous mix-up and there would be an advance copy hiding in her DVD case, but no such luck. But it was ok, I can still laugh out loud at that one no matter how many times I've seen it.
Ok massively long entry written and studying effectively neglected. But this time, I really do have to study, or I will certainly fail my quiz tomorrow. From now on: more frequent. Shorter. Less time. More funny. Got it? Good.
11:20 AM
Thursday, November 11, 2004 Don't you know, they're talkin' about a revolution, it sounds, like a whisper....Apparently, the midget wasn't just standing on my chest, but had one foot on my larynx as well. Because my voice is slowly being reduced by decibels as the hours go by. Currently, I'm in the 80-year-old-lady-who-has-smoked-a-million-cigarettes-in-her-lifetime phase. Which is always awesome when attempting to return phone calls. Im expecting it to be down to nothing by the end of the day.
Things I should be doing on my day off:
~ Starting progress on my final beastly paper for one of my classes. I haven't even done the literature search for it yet, using the excuse, "Well, it doesn't make sense for me to do the literature search at home when I don't have a printer to print off the articles." To do #1: Skip.
~ Read the chapter and start studying for my biostats quiz on Monday. "But I have all day to do it. I work better on schoolwork in the evening." To do #2: Skip.
Sweet, looks like it's going to be a good day.
And in case you were curious, here's what I would look like as a South Park character.
Wednesday, November 10, 2004 Feels like a midget is hanging from my necklace....Almost everytime I get sick, it starts off as a sore throat that goes from being "not that bad" to "I can't swallow" within a couple hours. This is usually followed by a fever the same night and then the onslaught of the sinuses. But this little bug I seem to have acquired has taken a different approach. It literally feels like there's a little person (midget, dwarf, I'm not quite sure what the PC term is) standing on my chest. That, or someone is crushing the alveoli in my lungs like they're popping bubble wrap. But in spite of the lung problems, I'm surprisingly functional (functional enough to go to work. I take sick days for the weakest reason like, "being tired"). No runny nose, raspy cough, sore throat, fever, achy head. Just this strange kind of pressure. Like if there was a way to let the air out, like a tire, it might feel better. But I guess in reality probably not. Because wouldn't letting the air out just be exhaling? Something that one who works in a pulmonary department should probably know.
There are two (TWO!!) radio stations in Detroit that have changed over to 24 hours a day of Christmas music. And this has been in effect as of the 2nd of November. Less than two days after the kiddies (err....me) took the Halloween costumes off, it's time to get into the holiday spirit. Which I'm nowhere near just yet, with Thanksgiving still being a couple weeks away. (I admit to bringing my reindeer coffee mugs out of storage though -- hey, they're so damn cute, they need to get as much usage as possible,). So even though this early jolly spirit iritates me, since the other radio station suck so bad, I find myself pausing when I round those numbers on the dial. And it isn't so much the songs themselves as much as it is the warm fuzzy feeling that reminds me of Christmas Eve with my family. Even if I'm in the car on the way home from the grocery store singing George Michael at the top of my midget-standing lungs.
10:33 AM
Monday, November 08, 2004 So bring on the rain clouds and block out the moon, let the action begin....When I went for a walk on Saturday, I was walking past one of the parks in Royal Oak, and every leaf had been ravaged off the branches and weren't even pretty colors anymore. Just brown and crispy crunchy on the ground. But the smell of the park when I went by took me instantaneously back to raking leaves in my old friend, Christy's, backyard. Where somehow I could be fooled into thinking that the giant pile was actually soft, but I'd still get winded everytime I flopped in on my back and hit the ground. The smell was 100% staring up at the blue sunny fall sky and finding twigs and leaves in my hair hours after we had abandoned the rakes in the half-finished yard. It made me incredibly happy, and I finally feel as though I had a second to actually enjoy autumn instead of imaging what it feels like through plate glass hospital windows. It can now officially get cold now. Not that I'm rooting for it to or anything. But I may have just sneaked a peak at the forcast for the week, and I saw highs in the low 40s and figured I should just accept it.
BTW. Last night was the episode of Extreme Makeover Home Edition that they taped nearby me. Andlemmetellya: sobfest. SOBFEST. I know I say this every week, but this wasn't just "get the kleenex" time, it was "calm down and take a deep breath" time. So freakin' good. If you missed it, I will be sure to be on top of the repeats when they show it again, because you need to spend 2 hours getting in touch with your emotions too.
10:42 PM
Saturday, November 06, 2004 It's all ahead of you, and you know what to do....My bedroom is on the south side of our house with two windows that cover a pretty fair amount of the wall. So now that the sun is back to the southern sky, it could not have been any sunnier in my room this morning. When I opened the door, it was as though I was announcing my entrance into the kitchen with heraldic celebration. Hey, I'm happy to be awake, and apparently everyone else should be too. And that's with my blinds closed too. I think opening them could cause blindness -- and the name of blinds becomes obvious. Sort of.
Well, I haven't nearly been in as bad of a mood as my straight-to-the-head-shrinker post on Wednesday would seem to have indicated. There were just a few things that collided all at once that bummed me out. And usually, they bother me on a constant basis, but more in a obnoxious-white-noise-buzz-in-the-background way, and I clearly can ignore things like every good member of my family can ("Because tomorrow is another day..."). But they all squeeked over into the sucking-a-little-too-much category. Like discovering that I will have to be at my job and in school until at least winter of '06. And discovering that a friend of mine moved away to a different state without bothering to tell me or say goodbye. Or feeling as though the facets of my personality had been copied in another friend for someone else's satisfaction (do you think I could write that sentence in code to make it any less clear?). So their level of persistent obnoxiousness has calmed back down, and I've actually had a pretty fun week. And since it's been a while, I've been saving up scores of randomness to indulge in.
~ Last weekend, I had the front door open long enough to catch a squirrel resting on top of my pumpkin on the porch. And the friggin' squirrel had a collar on. WTF? Everyone keeps asking me, "Are you sure it wasn't a cat or something?" Hello!!?? I think every child masters the bright colored photos of basic wildlife in, like kindergarten right? I think at 25 I can figure out what kind of member of the animal kingdom has the big bushy tail. So now in addition to the exotic white parrot that laughs at me from the trees, now we have a pet squirrel in my neighborhood too.
~ If I were to rate friends based on their willingness to hand off their canned goods to me, Kelly would be ranked right up there.
~ Kelly would also be ranked right up there in willingness to hang out on a Friday afternoon drinking rum and hot cider and making butterscotch ("Scotchity scotch scotch scotch") oatmeal cookies. After letting one of the batches cool, we went to take them off the cookie tray when I had to comment, "Why is that one cookie smoking?" Well, cookies will in fact smoke if you put the tray on top the still-turned-on burner that you used for the hot cider. So we lost a soldier in the cookie-making process. But still an excellent way to spend an afternoon. I highly recommend it.
~ Are you ready for me to ruin a perfectly good song for you? (note: "perfectly good" certainly up for debate). Ryan Cabrera's song is not in fact a sweet love song about someone who he found and fell for. It's about Jesus. Everytime I listen to it after having learned that, I don't get the "Awww, he must just be the greatest guy to say those kinds of things to a girl," feeling. Instead it's more, "Hey, he loves Jesus." Which isn't a bad thing, but usually just makes me flip past it a little quicker. No Christian rock for me thanks.
~ To keep the fun Friday afternoon rollin' into evening, I headed out to Brighton to be one of the non-teacher crashers on Mexican fiesta game night with Amy and her fellow teachers. And I had been there for no more than a half an hour when I conciously thought, "This is way better than anything else I would be doing tonight." I think I can safely say that everyone had a great time last night. I know I definitely did. And considering that I don't hang out with large groups of teachers on a regular basis, I was initially a little overwhelmed at the noise volume and everyone's ability to project their voice to be heard over a loud group, but it was actually kind of fun after a while. Because you are inherently more animated when you're loud, so imagine 9 really animated individuals, and that was the entire evening. And I learned more about the quality programming of the Lifetime network (complete with Nancy McKeon, Meredith Baxter Birney-all three names, and Jaqueline Smith) than I had ever known. There were some of the most heated, manic moments of Catchphrase and Hoopla ever seen! Where apparently throwing/spiking the catchphrase thing at the person sitting next to you is a good way to throw them off. And apparently the words "jerk" and "hillbilly" are synonyms. And apparently "deep throat" isn't too naughty of a phrase to have in a game that impressionable children might be playing. Good times, good times.
Well, as I mentioned. Gorgeous! Sunny! Brilliant! Brisk! Autumn! All waiting for me just outside the windows! Have a great day!
BTW. If you haven't (which you should), go read Observances of a Stick. She's wicked funny and her post from Friday will certainly make you laugh out loud. It did it for me.
11:43 AM
Wednesday, November 03, 2004 Don't be sad....I honestly think that there is something wrong with me. I'm trying to self-diagnose, and it's not working too well. But there are a million and one things that have crawled under my skin lately, and it seems that no matter what I do, I can't shake them off. I'm trying to plod through my everyday, but it's getting increasingly difficult. I can't quite figure out at what point I went from being continually happy, upbeat, and optimistic about life's endless possibilities and amusements to saying "fuck it" to everything. Oh the rant I could start right now, but I won't even bother expending the energy. Fuck it.
1:03 PM
Tuesday, November 02, 2004 How long must I wait, to get a drink in this place?
I waited for over an hour to vote this morning. Which I would have rather done than be at work. Is that a bad thing? It's a good thing that I wore my really really comfortable pointy-toed, high-heeled, perfect-for-standing-in-line boots. No craziness at my polls. Although I was reminded what a liberal side of town Royal Oak is.
I officially fucking hate my grad program. I'm never going to graduate. I'm never going to leave my job. I'm never going to be done. Ever. They've tacked on extra requirements for the new degree, one of those being a required class that's being offered in the winter. But it's a good thing, that of the 3 classes the department offers next semester, BOTH OF THE REQUIRED ONES ARE AT THE EXACT SAME DAY AND TIME!! And they're not offered again until next winter. Oh and the third class, I've already taken. Fucking sucks. SUCKS.
Lucky me spent two Saturdays in a row drinking all afternoon watching football and then going out. Saturday was a good day (imagine Dr. Dre singing that, even though it's "Saturday" and not "today"). I have one Halloween costume that I invested in, and I plan on wearing it every single Halloween forever. I know, creativity with costumes is not my forte. But we had a lot of fun allll day. Thanks to Danielle for havin' us over!
I thought it was interesting to learn yesterday that they're expecting 18-30 year olds to have been very underrepresented in the polls they've been taking for the last couple months. Citing that pollsters use only land lines and not cell phones. So the 3-5% of the population who use cells as their only phone were entirely ignored. The large majority of which are 18-30 year olds. Veerrrrry interesting.
