Tilly Chic(ago)

One + One + One

2009-12-21T11:57:00.002-06:00

Equals Three.

In other words, Fiji + Tilly + Baby Bean = Love Everlasting.

That's right, people. I'm WITH CHILD. TwentyTen is going to be the most amazingly wonderful life-altering year in the history of the world (my world, that is).

One

2009-10-04T13:34:00.000-05:00

One year ago today, I married my most favorite person in the whole entire galaxy. He is mine. And I am his. Forever and a day.

This weekend we celebrated with special evenings dining out (a rare occasion since the budget cuts of '09), a brunch at our neighborhood fave, a cool and wet fall drive out of the city, a full moon, a glass of bubbly, a tub, a sunrise hike in Central Illinois, an adventure exploring waterfalls, creeks, bluffs, and quarries, an adorable organic festival in the middle of nowhere, a long sunny drive back into the city, a toast filled with mini-moon wine, a playlist of our wedding songs, and even a dance on the roof in the crisp autumn air. We ended the night with our usual Sunday routine: pizza and a movie. Oh, and our wedding cake. Our delicious--we are SO eating the whole rest of that thing--wedding cake. In a word: lovely.

This year has brought much joy, many travels, marked growth and change, greater understanding, continued solidarity, household challenges, new ideas, bold strength, tragic moves, unending unity, new uncertainties, and much, much more. In spite, and because, of it all, I have fallen more in love with my husband. All I need is his hand in mine for the rest of my days. I am forever grateful. Forever and for always.

Mr. & Mrs. Fiji

2008-11-14T13:04:00.001-06:00

It's official.

Friends listen to "Endless Love" in the dark all the time

2008-06-24T10:06:00.003-05:00

I know that many slash most of you do not partake in the network soul mate matching that is The Bachelor/The Bachelorette, and for that I am still truly appalled, but something on last night's episode has disturbed my soul and I am unsure of how to proceed...in the LIVING of my LIFE. So, I thought I would be your very own life-ruiner and share. I'm nice like that.

So, it went a little like this...DeAnna goes on the home dates (where she visits the boys parents and stuff) and one of the dudes (who, if we're being honest, I think enjoys the boys a little more than he realizes, if you are picking up what I'm throwing down) has a kid. No biggie. But the dude, Jason, kisses his kid. No biggie. But he kisses him ON THE LIPS. Like, lips to lips. Kinda creepy. I mean, the kid is 4 or something, so whatever. FINE. DEWAI. But then, when they were at his parent's house and getting ready to leave, the whole ENTIRE family started like BAWLING. It made me very, very uncomfortable, even THROUGH the TV! I mean, that's great that they are all so close and everything and clearly they care about each other but COME ON. Get it TOGETHER here people. You are on network TELEVISION. But that is not even the awkwardest part!! (If you can even believe it!) When they were saying goodbye, the mom kissed the dude (competing for The Bachelorette's heart) ON THE LIPS. Mother-30 YEAR OLD Son mouth to mouth kisses are TOTALLY INAPPROPRIATE. I mean, is DeAnna seriously falling in love with a man that kisses his mother ON THE MOUTH? What's next? Slipping a little TONGUE to grandma. I feel weird inside.

And then...

2008-06-17T16:39:00.004-05:00

Want to hear something fun and awk? OK THEN. My boss just came into my office as I was writing in BOLD print on my calendar (for next Thursday!): "LAST DAY!!!! WOOHOO!!!!" Which he didn't appear to find too amusing. Then he informed me that we did NOT get funding on the first grant that we applied for. SUCK. And THEN he told me that my office would be empty all summer and that I was more than welcome to COME IN and WORK whenever I wanted to!! Yippee. Who DOESN'T want to work for FREE?! I mean, GEE WHIZ. And then he casually added that my phone will be turned off, so I will need to use my celly. Um, hello? IDC! I AM NOT COMING BACK!! Who does he think I AM? I don't love working THAT MUCH slash AT ALL.

So that happened.

Anyway, tomorrow I go home--sweet relaxation station home--to see the munchkins and play in the sand and get a tan and maybe plan my wedding and stuff. So that should be awesome to infinity. AND THEN Fiji is throwing my a pre-birthday party when I get back. OMG. I am celebrating my 30th year BEFORE I even turn 30! INSANO.

Because EVERYONE loves to read about someone else's dream

2008-06-16T11:16:00.006-05:00

Last night I dreamt that I was taking a marathon prep class (like with desks and homework and crap) and Jessica Alba was one of my classmates. It probably goes without saying, but she and I became best friends. We were both planning our weddings and she was pregnant with twins (I was not). She was trying desperately to convince me that running a marathon was good for the twins' development, and apparently I was being a real stick-in-the-mud about the whole thing. Because clearly I CARED about her well-being and that of her unborn children. Anyway, this just goes to show how much reading Us Weekly at the airport can infiltrate your BRAIN. And also completely confuse you! I had it all mixed up! She already GOT married and had ONE child named Humor or something. No, no. Honor. Her child's name is Honor. And Angie's the one with twins! GAH. Silly dreaming Tilly. (Whoa.) (Guess I should've titled this one LAME ALERT.)

Wednesday Night: Play by Play (whoa PUN)(You will understand later)

2008-06-12T10:00:00.005-05:00

Whewee! Last night was pretty eventful, if I don't say so myself. Which is a saying I never really understand because HELLO, you just SAID IT. Anyway. I met up with PhotoFace to look at pretty paper at the Paper Source and I just love that place SO much. Except last night, not so much. There were like 50 brides there picking out papers and everyone seemed to actually KNOW what they were doing and stuff and like HAVE A PLAN. Which was a little (slash a TON) intimidating because we were wandering around picking up random stickers and packs of paper and being all overwhelmed and stuff.

Then Photoface came up with the GENIUS idea to go get a beer and talk this through a bit. Did I mention she is a genius? Because she is. So on our stroll to get a well-needed and well-deserved drinky, we decided to stop in the Queen of All Shoe Stores and I kinda think I maybe kinda might've found my shoes. Like, my wedding shoes. Uh huh. Yep. So that happened. She basically made me buy them by carrying them around the whole time and talking about how awesome and perfect they are, but I'm glad she did. I have been searching and searching for these particular shoes in my head that I am growing more and more convinced do not exist (a pretty green, flat, peep-toe with a flower or something ladylike--because I am a LADY). SO. They are not green and they are not peep-toe, but they are definitely unique and pretty and they were on sale for $35. Done and DON.

THEN. We finally made it to the drinking hole and pretty much came up with an ENTIRE NEW INVITATION IDEA. The CAPS are totally and completely necessary because that is how exciting it was and still is. THEN I get a call from a little fairy godfather who offers me 4 Cubs tickets for the game that was starting in about an hour and I actually debated whether or not I should take them for about 17.7 seconds and then I said to myself, "SELF you are an IDIOT. Take the tickets RIGHT NOW." So I did and then we went and then it was awesome and then the boys met up with us after their yoga retreat and then I had a kosher dog the size of my left arm and it was delicious and then we won and then we sang and danced to the Cubs song and then we went home.

True double true.
The end.

p.s. Please excuse the blatant tense issues in this post. I mean, you are probably pretty used to it from me by now, but still. Sorry.

Maryjuhwahna Into Your Brain

2008-06-10T10:14:00.002-05:00

After weeks of not drinking regular coffee (a.k.a. devil juice), I had some this morning because I have not been able to "wake up" since Saturday morning. Seriously. Not sure what is going on in this crazy lady body of mine, but I'm barely living. It's weird but it's my life. Anyway, the caffeine and I are now like mortal enemies. We used to be bestests, but now I'd say we're haters. I feel like a jittery mess and I can't quite seem to focus on any one thing for more than two seconds. Which is ideal when you are trying to write a research paper. No, really. It's pretty awesome.

In other news, I have found several interesting jobs to apply to except that I haven't been able to bring myself to apply to any of them. IDK (my BFF Rose) why, but it's like something is preventing me from taking any action. And when I say "something" I most likely mean "ME." Maybe it's that lurking fear of eventually hating yet another job. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? Why can't I just find something in my field that I enjoy? I don't think I've ever really truly enjoyed any of the jobs that I have held. Which is a LOT. I mean, maybe I liked my job as a ticket scanner at the base of Breckenridge mountain. MAYBE. I think the only reason that job was slightly manageable was because I was probably stoned the whole time. And when I say "probably" I mean "definitely." So there's THAT.

Someone pass the reefer.

So this one time, I freaked out...

2008-06-05T16:36:00.004-05:00

And then I took a mental health day. Because that is what you do when you are very nearly almost unemployed. It's just what NORMAL people do. Like me. Me and normal people are like ONE AND THE SAME.

I counted and I have 11 days left here. 11 life-ruining, soul-sucking, bone-crushing days. Eleven. What with all the vacation days I plan to take between now and June 30. I really should look into a job that is not dependent on fickle little grants and such. But then again, where's the adventure in that?! Missing I tell ya. MISSING.

So, yeah. Instead of viewing this as a period of "unemployment," I'm opting for "summer break." Yep. I'm on summer break. Jealous? I know I would be, if only I could stop FREAKING OUT about it. I just don't know how to be relaxed and calm about not having a job. I don't know what that is. I don't know what that even means. I don't know how NOT to work. Oh yeah, and that whole pay check thing. THAT. My concern is clearly displayed in the fact that I have applied to a whopping ONE job. Yup. I am really on top of this finding a new job thing. However, I do have the age-old excuse that I am in school. Granted it's one class, once a week but WHATEVER. Who's counting?

Now, who wants to go to the beach like every day next month?

2008-06-04T08:45:00.002-05:00

Yessssssssssssssssss.

BrawlFest2K8

2008-05-29T12:39:00.004-05:00

Last night the Feej and I went to the Cubs game and sat several rows (and one section, FINE) behind home plate. It was pretty awesome. Except for the fact that as Fiji noted there was "too much traffic" and oh yeah, the fact that we almost got into a BRAWL! True story. So, as soon as we settled into our third row aisle seats (hi, braggart) and the game got underway (wow, I should really look into a career as a sportscaster!), we realized that something was awry. What may or may not have tipped us off was the dude behind us cheering LOUDLY and clapping EVEN LOUDER for the Dodgers. Not the Cubs. Now, being a Dodger fan (or any other team's fan) in and of itself is not a problem. NOT AT ALL. What was the problem was the annoying and obnoxious ATTITUDE that went along with this particular Dodger fan. After I had had the appropriate fill of my Old Style Tall Boy, I did not try so hard to contain my annoyance with dude and his Dodger love. Then things really came to a head when dude, in his flamboyant and unnecessarily LARGE clapping movements, knocked Fiji on the back of the head. And the following exchange slash BRAWL occurred:

Fiji (to dude, calmly but firmly): Hey man, watch it.
Dude (FLIPPING OUT): WHAT? Watch WHAT?!!
Fiji: You just knocked the back of my head.
Dude: NO I DID NOT. I DIDN'T TOUCH YOU.
(Seriously, he was yelling. TOTALLY unnecessary. Like I should talk.)
Fiji: Yes. Yes, you did. You knocked it. Just watch the back of my head.
(Fiji is pretty much over it at this point and back to watching THE GAME.)
Dude: YOU WATCH THE BACK OF YOUR HEAD.
Tilly (turning around and stifling laughter): That doesn't even MAKE SENSE.
Dude is speechless.
Tilly: Dude, relax.
Dude: TELL YOUR HOMEBOY TO RELAX.
Tilly: Uhh, I think he is. Thanks. Look, it's fine. Don't worry about it. (I SO wanted to say DEWAI.)

The end. (Sorta.)

And then the CUBS WON in the 10th inning.

The end. (For reals.)

A Whole Bunch of Nothing

2008-05-28T14:01:00.002-05:00

I am having one of those days where I just want SO BADLY to PUNCH someone in the NECK. But not really. The past couple of days I've been getting so incredibly frustrated about one thing or another that I find myself TENSING UP MY ENTIRE BODY and then releasing. Like a toddler. And OMG it really works. Kinda. I mean, I haven't punched anyone in the neck yet, so SUCCESS! Also, last night I tried to do a little mock-up for the text of our invitations that I have somehow agreed to DO MYSELF. Um, hello WORST IDEA EVER. I am so not cut out for this. I can barely even write my own name without getting ink ALL OVER, let alone do whatever making your own wedding invitations entails. (Clearly I don't even know WHAT THAT IS. I am so screwed.) But I am kinda attached to the whole concept of our invites and after hours of searching and finding very pretty, very expensive invitations by REAL DESIGNERS and stuff, they still don't offer what we are looking for. SO. There's THAT.

Anyway. GAH. I am doing the tensing thing again!

But, this weekend was lovely and sunshiney and drunky and I saw the love-of-my-life slash Jenny Lewis. I just love her so much. We met up with some friends slash strangers afterwards and I was pretty much spilling my girl-love (and beers) all over those poor people. So that was nice.

ALSO, I tried on my dress again last week and holy hell I just love it SO much. Like, A LOT. And that makes me feel like such a girl (not that there's anything wrong with that), you know. PhotoFace took pictures of me and I didn't even hate them! Granted, I think the sales lady was a little put off when PhotoFace made me like sprawl across her desk next to the window so we could get a glimpse of me AND the skyline, but then I was all "DEWAI* lady, just DEWAI."

The end.

*Don't Even Worry About It. You would not even imagine how much I use this word in normal conversations. AWK.

He Almost Made it on Broadway

2008-05-22T12:59:00.004-05:00

Yesterday as I sat in the dentist's chair with my mouth wide open and the Dental Cleaner Lady scraping off the plaque, I heard someone singing in the next room over. Like, to Bette Midler or whatever craptastic musak they had playing. And since I wear my emotions on my face, the Dental Cleaner Lady must've seen my shock and confusion because we had the following exchange:

Dental Cleaner Lady: He [dentist] sings.
Me: Uhhh?
DCL: Yeah. Sings.
Me: Like, all the time?
DCL: Yep. Like ALL THE TIME.
Me: Wow. I, uh...
DCL: And sometimes dances.

At this point she had to remove the sharp tool from my mouth because we were both laughing so hard, my gums and teeth were in danger. You know how sometimes you are laughing so hard and then finally you kinda get it together and so does the other person but then one of you kinda chuckles and then all is lost once again? Yeah. It was like that. But then she assured me that he probably wouldn't sing during my exam. You know, since this was the first time we were meeting and all.

Inspired

2008-05-21T09:53:00.005-05:00

Since I'm pretty much obsessed with wedding blogs now, I thought I would share my own "inspiration board."

I can't find all the links where I found these images, so I hope no one tries to sue me or kill me or punch me in the face or anything. Because OUCH. Also, it's not as "professional" looking as most but WHATEVER. It's MY inspiration, right? RIGHT.

I Love Evens

2008-05-16T12:58:00.004-05:00

When I first started dating Fiji, I never made any attempt to hide my vast number or quirks or idiosyncrasies. Hell, on our first date I said (OUTLOUD) something along the lines, "I can drink a lot. Like A LOT. Hope you can handle it." Um, hello BITCH. Gee whiz. Try to keep that on the DL...at least until the third date or something. Nope. Not me. Just wanted to lay it all out there. Really show him who I am. And apparently that is a serious braggart of a boozehound.

Anyway, one of my many odd "qualities," if you can call them that, is that I am strangely attached to even numbers. And the number 17. But even numbers I just love so much. I just do. I set my alarms on even numbers and get giddy when my purchases total an even number, and even better if there is some sort of pattern to the even numbers. And I LOVE the last 4 digits of my phone number--ALL EVEN. I also set the stereo volume to even numbers, even when it is not the preferred decibel level at the moment. Look, IDK. It is what it is. My point is that when I first moved in with the Feej, he (unbeknownst to me) changed his alarm to ALSO be an even number. In addition, we listen to this Native American music every night as we are going to sleep. And once I moved in he started setting the volume at even numbers! Can you even believe that?!! It took me several months to realize it (THAT is how tight-lipped this man is. Clearly that is one major difference between us. HELLO BLOG.) and when I did I almost died of love, if that would be possible. (If it is possible, that totally blows.)

So. It's not like this big sacrifice he made for me or anything. I am sure he enjoys the music just the same and wakes up just fine (actually, he doesn't even NEED an alarm...which is another post entirely). But really, it was just the fact that he even thought of that, knowing that it would make me happy. It's just those little things, you know?

I'm NOT a Hippie...Anymore.

2008-05-15T13:13:00.000-05:00

I just received an email from a colleague signed:

Peace,
[redacted]

Uhhhh...okay?

2008-05-13T15:53:00.002-05:00

I'm off the black sludge, folks. I did it! I've already started looking down (very condescendingly in fact) upon those silly coffee drinkers. Don't you even know what that does to your slash my teeth?! It turns them a delectable yellowish-brown. It DOES. And that is quite unpleasant.

In other news, I took a brief nap at my desk the other day. It lasted 8 minutes, to be exact. I am sure it had nothing to do with my lack of the black sludge devil. I wonder if the poor souls across the street even noticed. I don't know why I call them poor souls, but I bet they are. Sometimes when I talk on the phone I look out the window and stare across the street. One time I think I made eye contact with this one dude straight across the way. It made me uncomfortable.

I've had chapped lips for almost a week. It's to the point where there are cracks in the corners of my lips/mouth. HATE. Also, it hurts to laugh or smile big or eat an apple. So I've had to put a stop to those activities for the moment (except the apple eating). That is why you may have noticed a melancholy undertone here today. Did you even notice that?

Also, I missed The Hills finale AND The Bachelor final rose ceremony slash the one where the Brit makes the biggest mistake of his life and proposes to either the actress or the cold-hearted snake. Rubbish.

We're Practically AMISH

2008-05-09T13:16:00.002-05:00

So, remember that time, uh, about a week ago or so when I was talking about how our TV is STILL broken? Well I forgot to mention that since the TV died, I've been using a projector in emergency situations to watch my shows (i.e. The Bachelor (DUH), The Hills, Greys Anatomy (SHUT YOUR MOUTH)). Normal people watch TV bring projected onto their living room walls all the time. Well, Sunday evening rolls around and I'd had a hectic day of nursing a decently destructive hangover by drinking bloody's and mimosa's on the roof. AND celebrating the Feej's birth by eating the breakfast that he so graciously cooked for us ON THE GRILL. He is a magician. Anyway, after that stress of a day (I even got a little sunburned!), I plopped down onto the couch to get my fix of some HGTV or something. Well, no sooner had I turned it on when BAM! The light bulb in the projector BLEW UP! Like EXPLODED with smoke and everything! I couldn't believe this was happening to me. Why OH WHY was I being prevented from gorging on some good, old American television?!! WHY. Now I've REALLY been without TV for, um, a LONG ASS TIME. I can't even remember the last time I decided to sloth it up and just picked up the remote and turned on the television like a NORMAL AMERICAN CITIZEN. Every day this week I have taken to nagging the crap out of Fiji in order to get this shit fixed up. I just can't take it anymore. I mean, last weekend was one thing, what with all the warm and sunny weather. What will happen if it RAINS?!! Oh dear god someone help me.

Update: The In-Laws Edition

2008-05-08T16:11:00.001-05:00

My mom and Fiji's mom shared lunch. As in, they SHARED a sandwich.

Discuss.

Raw and The In-Laws

2008-05-07T15:41:00.005-05:00

So here we are, Raw Food Day Two and I am still alive. AND well. I don't even have a coffee-withdrawal headache today! Man, I should pick up some other ridiculously addictive habit and then quit cold turkey and laugh in the face of medicine and addiction researchers (hi boss). Or not. That sounds exhausting.

Anyway, the big news of the day (to me) is this: The Tilly's and the Fiji's are MEETING! Each other! Tomorrow! WITHOUT the most important people in the equation: FIJI and ME! See, at first I kinda (slash totally completely 100%) freaked out because HELLO! We were planning this whole weekend introduction thing over Memorial Day up at the cottage and everything. It was all set. Or so I thought. I am not very rational when plans change so abruptly without me even knowing! Did they not think to CONSULT US!?! Maybe run it BY US? Just to, you know, make sure it was OKAY? No, no they did not. Apparently my Mom thinks they're "all adults" or some shit like that. WHATEVER. (I think I had my first, but it's ALL ABOUT ME moment right then. PHEW. Glad that's over.) Anyway, since the Fiji's are going to be DRIVING BY, they figured YOU KNOW WHY NOT! LET'S STOP AND MEET MY FUTURE DAUGHTER IN LAWS PARENTS! THAT SOUNDS FUN! Except, they probably weren't yelling. Or freaking out or anything. Nope, that would be me.

But then I realized, in the midst of my panic attack freak out sesh...this is GENIUS. Why didn't I think of this!!?! I mean, the deed (so to speak) will be done with little to NO stress on me or the Feej. It's not a whole WEEKEND event, it's just a quick hellohowareyounicetomeetyoutillysgreatwelovefiji kinda thing. No pressure! It'll be done in no time, no time at all. And then it will be OVER. No anxiety whatsoever. Finito. Yesssssssssssssss.

So that's about to happen.

p.s. Sorry about the excessive and inexcusable amount of CAPS and !!!! I have issues OKAY!!?!

Spring Cleaning: Innards Style

2008-05-06T13:27:00.007-05:00

As I think I've mentioned one or two or a million times, Fiji is healthy. Like, he enjoys eating seaweed and making his own RAW crackers healthy. And while I like to think (slash pretend) that I am healthy too, this is one (of many) area (s) where he totally dominates me. (Wait, that came out weird.) Anyway. A while back, pre-Fiji in fact, I attempted the Master Cleanse. Attempted and failed miserably after, um, three measly weasly days. Skip forward a month and that is when Fiji and I first started the intense train staring that eventually let to our courtship and yada yada you know the rest. BUT, little did I know that during these eye-sexing-sesh's he was actually ON the Master Cleanse at that VERY MOMENT. He was drinking the juice and cleaning out his system!! (That's amazing! I'm not even mad!)

So, my point here is this: we are similar, yet different. He did the Master Cleanse for 21 days. I did it for 3. WHATEVER. But we both still TRIED it. That's gotta mean something right? My REAL point is that today was the start of our various cleanses. He is going at it aggressively and doing the 'ol MC once again. I, on the other hand, who enjoy whole foods and such, am going for a diet consisting of raw foods. As in fruits and veggies. And one day in I want to die. No, no. Not really. But it's Day 1 no caffeine and therefore say hello to a little thing I like to call the DEATH HEAD. But FINE. I'm already planning on ways I can convince him that I could do raw for breakfast and lunch and then have a regular dinner of WHATEVER I WANT. Except I would tell him that it would be a "Sensible Dinner." But really it would. Because as much as I love me some chips and french onion dip and mass quantities of root beer by the barrel, I do enjoy eating healthy. Mainly because it staves off the GUILT that creeps into my brain and takes over after I finish off the rest of a large pizza. (I mean HALF!)

Whoa. My grumbling tummy must be eating my brains.

I have issues. Big ones.

2008-05-01T11:59:00.004-05:00

I have experienced several different situations in the past week that have caused me to question my "fitness" as a functioning member of society. I used to think that I was a very well-adjusted individual, an upstanding citizen even! But now? Not so much.

Exhibit A: Yesterday I was waiting to send some packages (filled with wedding dresses! WHAT!) at the post office around the corner from my office. This post office is always pretty ghetto and the (two measly) postal workers are totally and completely postal, but I consider that pretty standard post office style. But this place was a DISASTER. Starbucks cups and brown paper bags were strewn about, there were NO labels to be found ANYWHERE, the automated stamp/package machine was busted, and pretty much the whole group looked desperate and frightened. Some people just wanted to send A letter. A SINGLE LETTER. Poor souls. It was about 3pm, which I assumed was prime no-waiting time, but I was wrong. VERY wrong. The line was massive and I left to go run another errand, thinking that the line would dwindle by the time I returned. Again, I was wrong. I couldn't have been MORE wrong. (He's already pulled over! He can't pull over any further!) When I returned the line was twice as long. Literally. Even the homeless beggar outside asked me what the deal was. As if I knew!

So, anyway, the line was like 30 people deep. I am not even joking. And the previously light (yet awkward-sized) boxes were getting heavier by the minute. Also, it was hot. And to make matters worse, the man behind me wreaked of stale cigarette smoke and was loudly talking on his phone (that he let go through an entire cycle of rings) in another language, but then yelling, "1500 DOLLLLARRS" over and over again. He was also practically IN my back pocket. Which was nice. I repeatedly shuffled from this side to that and swung my boxes around in order to create MY personal space bubble, which failed miserably. Anyway, I started to have a minor panic attack about the whole thing and how long it was taking and how the postal workers were so mean and OMG can they not hire another worker and freaking out about the deafening silence. Then this man rushed in, bypassed the ENTIRE line and shouted frantically something about needing a passport. No one really knew what to do about him, so we just stared. Which I am sure he appreciated. He also had the WORST toupee that I have ever seen in my entire life. EVER EVER. It looked like there was a small dead furry animal resting on his head. And I laughed at my mini-panic attack and zoned out for the next 20 minutes until it was my turn.

The end.
True, double true.

Exhibit B: I will no longer sit next to someone I don't know on the train. If someone sits next to me, I will get up and stand. And in order to avoid THAT awkfest, I stand. Every time. Did I mention that I take the train to work and basically everywhere else I go like every day? Well, I do.

Exhibit C: Last week there was a birthday party in my office. 15 minutes before it began (just to be safe) I closed my door and DIDN'T ANSWER when someone knocked. Like, I stopped typing and everything. I am surprised I didn't hide under my desk like the total and complete spaz that I am.

Exhibit D: A few minutes ago, while waiting in line at the grocery store, the lady behind me bumped into my bag FIVE TIMES. In like 30 seconds. I almost punched her in the neck. Instead, I turned around and gave her the stank eye times a gazillion slash I excused myself. As if I had done something wrong!! I am such a WEASEL!

I am scared. For MYSELF.

The Bachelor: London Calling. Romantical!!

2008-04-29T09:27:00.006-05:00

So, remember that time when I told you all about how our TV bulb broke or burned out or whatever? So yeah. About that. We still haven't replaced it!! Each day a piece of me dies inside. Except not really. But Fiji is pretty much in heaven. He didn't have a TV for most of his adult life (WEIRDO!) and would prefer that we never watched TV. However, I like TV! I DO! I mean, I don't need to watch it every day or anything, but there are some shows that I want to see, NEED to see.

And one of those shows is The Bachelor. I am NOT ashamed. I have pretty much watched every season since it's inception. I am not above the Bachelor. It gives me pleasure. Mainly because I'm like, WHOA, I am SO much cooler than ALL OF THEM. So you know, it's an ego boost if nothing else. Also, I would never go on TV to find "the love of my life" while millions (okay, thousands) of people watch and judge me and editors edit the shit out it to make it more interesting. I do, however, have a slight to major crush on Chris Harrison. Probably my favorite part of the show is when they show little outtakes at the end. Those are the best parts! They actually show people's TRUE personalities (for approximately 15 seconds). Also, I like when Chris is on those little snippets. And then I want to call him up and see if he wants to maybe hang out this weekend and throw some bags on the roof or grab some beers or something. Anyway.

For those of you who aren't watching (FOR SHAME), the Bachelor this season is a Brit and he's kinda silly, kinda dorky, kinda hopeless romantic. And I like the way he talks and stuff. So that's nice. Anyway, last night this "sweet" southern girl got the big 'ol boot and she was PISSED. Like, FIRED UP about it. It was awesome. I mean, I do kinda feel bad for the girls at the end because he's totally telling them ALL the same thing and pretty much leading them on and what not. "I'm really falling for you..." or "I love...being WITH you..." or "I can see a future with you..." You know, the usual stuff after like 3 dates. (Not like I should talk seeing that I moved in with Fiji, oh, three months after our first date. WHATEVER. He's buying the WHOLE COW now!)

Anyway, I think I may have lost my train of thought here. Oh well. Clearly we're discussing (slash I'm writing) some REAL important, life-changing stuff. But, just one more thing...one of the ladies who opted for the "Special Suite" with the Bachelor brought along a "special surprise" to show him her "romantic side." Can you guess what it was??! CAN YOU?! Well, it was a black dress lingerie thingy. Yeah. See-through and everything! But the weirdest part about it, if it can GET any weirder, is that the camera showed her changing the WHOLE TIME and TAKING OFF HER UNDERWEAR!! WHAT!?? I literally had to look away! What is the deal with THAT?! Anyway, that really showed him! SO ROMANTICAL!

DARE: Completely Ineffective and Potentially Counterproductive (OOPS!)

2008-04-25T13:52:00.011-05:00

My Mom came into "the city" on Wednesday to do the whole Mother-Daughter Wedding Dress Shopping Extravaganza Thing. Her first request was to come "see my office" and "meet the awk boss." I caved and allowed both to occur. As you might recall, Wednesday was the day I was christened "Lisa" in the office space. When she called announcing she made it on the "EL," I shared the special "Lisa" story and begged her not to say anything to the boss man, which honestly she may have, had I not said anything. Anyway, after I introduced her to the man (which was HOLY HELL AWK times infinity!) as quickly as possible, she of course insisted on sharing a memory of my childhood . OF COURSE. I mean, WHY NOT. I could feel my face beginning to flush as I attempted to subtly (which is so not in my vast skill set) inched my way closer to the door (slash freedom from the awk torture). (I should probably note that I work on youth tobacco related research. So there you go.)

She proceeded to tell him about this one time when we lived in San Francisco and went to see the Giants (and then continued to debate with herself about who they were playing that special Spring day...NOT IMPORTANT. MOVE ON. Also, I am TOTALLY her daughter.) and as we were entering the stadium I saw a man smoking and apparently yelled, "YOU SHOULDN'T SMOKE! Smoking KILLS! You are going to DIE!" And wagged my finger in his face repeatedly. I must have just had a special DARE brainwashing sesh that week or something, as I was kind of a shy child and I don't recall being so anti-smoking and I certainly lost that inner passion when I picked up the habit of smoking Marlboro Lights like a champ at age 16. But those were also the days where I swore I would NEVER do drugs and certainly NEVER have pre-marital sex. Just randomly click on any month in my archives for confirmation of my past life choices. Shitshows and toilet lives and shame spirals aplenty!

My Life is Made Up of One Awk Moment After the Next

2008-04-23T10:09:00.002-05:00

My boss just introduced me as Lisa. LISA!!

Uhhhhhh?

This goes without saying, but AWK MUCH!??!?!?!?

So That Happened...

2008-04-21T12:47:00.003-05:00

The dress shopping, that is.

When we arrived at the first place I almost threw up. Really, I almost did. I felt super nauseous as soon as I saw the huge, poofy gowns. Then, to make matters worse, there was a bride behind the (see-through!) curtain and she was like on this tall pedestal thing looking at a three-way mirror with a gaggle of women ooh-ing and ahh-ing and I wanted to die. DEATH would've been better than that. My lovely friends saw my panic and informed me that I didn't have to do that. PHEW. Then when the lady came out and started asking me questions about what I liked and wanted to try on I drew a total and complete blank. Like blacked-out blank. I just stood there, stammering, "uhhhh, uhhhh, ummmm..." Seriously. How can I be a real, live person?? I'm such an AWK spaz! Anyway, my people saved the day once again. I think I maybe said like 20 words the whole hour-long sesh. I just didn't know what to say! But this one time when she was putting this dress on me my shoulder came out of the socket, which was fun and totally NOT AWK at all. Then she was like, "Um, miss, please don't do that again." I was all, "Um, lady, it wasn't ON PURPOSE." GEE WHIZ.

Then we went to this other place and I loved almost every dress! So that was awesome. What was NOT awesome was this psychotic bitch STARING at me the whole time. Seriously. (I really doubt she was giving you the stank eye. That's just the way her face looks.) I know I talk a lot of shiz about punching people in the face and stuff, but I think I really could've punched this broad. Right in the gut or neck or something. I think punching someone in the face would, like, severely hurt my hand, but the gut or neck seems softer and thus less painful for the puncher. Plus, getting the wind knocked out of you hurts like a bitch! Alas, I am a peaceful being and therefore chose to ignore her and frolic around the salon instead.

The last place I went to I got to choose which dresses I wanted to try on myself! So that was cool. But OMG I was sweating like a donkey and then the whole idea of trying on these dresses that OTHER PEOPLE have tried on (possibly SWEATING) started to really creep me out and stuff. I think the lady (who saw ALL OF MY LADY BITS) noticed the sweet sweat fest and turned on the AC. Lifesaver! Then this other lady started helping us too (who was way more helpful than the first lady, I might add) and the first lady was telling her what kind of dresses I like and she was all, "NO BEADING. NO BLING. NO LACE. NO FROUFY." And then I added, "SIMPLE." And then I got scolded, as she clarified, "We call it CLASSIC."

Well, sooooooooooooooooooooooooorry.

The end.

Someone Is Bothering Me! SHOCKER.

2008-04-18T13:59:00.003-05:00

I have discovered another group of people to hate on, if you can believe it. Which clearly you can't since I'm constantly spewing the love around these parts. But. Anyway. The Winner(s) is (are): The People Who Stand Up On The Train WAY Before Their Stop And Proceed To Move Through The Train Towards The Doors For No Apparent Reason. People! COME ON. You make everyone around you annoyed and inconvenienced and you make us want to punch you in the face and pull out all of your hair. Seriously. Also, you make me anxious, which, granted, is not all that hard to do, but whatever. There is no need to get up. Really. Just relax! Take a load off! Please remain seated! Chilllll. I'm just minding my own biz and you gotta get up all concerned like, as if you are not going to be able to get off the train at your specified stop. YOU WILL. Trust me. You are really fucking up the rotation slash balance of the train-riding-world when you do this. Seriously. Quit.

Also, Happy Friday!

The One Where I Copy The Shit Out of Those I Love (i.e. Tessie, Slynnro, etc.)

2008-04-17T11:10:00.004-05:00

Thing the First

Someone had a few too many Bud Lights at the Cubs game last night and as a result almost strangled a chirping bird named Goose this morning. Someone also had a few too few hot dogs. Tear. Someone also had their first craigslist experience of buying tickets yesterday and it was grrreat! The lady sold them to me for FACE VALUE (unheard of!) and basically dropped them off at my office. It was amazing! (I'm not even mad!) So that happened. Oh, and we (as in me and the Cubs) WON! FUKUDOME!!

Thing the Second

My first classes were basically a shitshow. I could not even BELIEVE the complainers I've got in my class. I was all, SUCK IT UP PEOPLE! We are all ADULTS here! Unbelieveable. Then we went to see Widespread and sat in the nosebleed of all nosebleeds section. Literally. I didn't even know seats that high were LEGAL! HEYO!! But the second set I geniusly led my people to the front row corner where we proceeded to dance our faces off. Well, I did. It was unreal. Then we went home and I tried on my wedding dress which was totally awk and weird. We (slash PhotoFace) decided it wasn't THE ONE. Now I've got to be a real bride and go dress shopping this weekend. For real. And I'm scared. For real.

Thing the Third

I've got foggy beer head today and kind of the shakes. Which is pretty ideal in any and all work situations. School-night drinking is NOT FOR ME. Anyway, we are having a POTLUCK this weekend! POTLUCK! We used to have potlucks in college all the time. Yes, I was a total hippie. Yes, I made my own clothes. Yes, I followed Phish. Yes, I used to wear STICKERS on my FACE. Yes. Yes. And yessssssssssss.

Good year!!

Nerdfest 2K8

2008-04-11T10:09:00.004-05:00

Tonight I have my first class and, not gonna lie, I'm a bit nervous!! I'm starting a random class at a random time and all my classmates are in the same cohort and have been taking classes together for like a year or something! I'm the new girl once again! Although, having moved around a lot my whole childhood, as well as my transient adult life, I'm pretty much accustomed to filling that role. HOWEVER. I did get some new highlighters (!) and a Five Star Notebook (WHATUP!) so I've got that going for me. I love school supplies with a deep, longing passion, so I'm pretty much amped on all that ink and paper. I wanted to get this cool multi-color tab roller thingy (sorry--it's hard to explain!) but Fiji pulled my drooling self away from the office supply section so we could enjoy the sunshine that was last weekend. Now they're forecasting SNOW and RAIN for the ENTIRE WEEKEND. Sandbagginsonsabitches. I've got class all day tomorrow anyway, so I guess I won't be missing out on much.

Wow. Can I BE any more of a NERD?

In other wedding-related news, I tried on my first dress last night. It arrived in a box at my front door! Just for me! It was pretty sweet. However, it was a bit anti-climactic since I tried it on by myself in front of a not-full length mirror after I had just bought tampons and goldfish at Walgreens. I called my mom and I was all, "Uh, facebook Mom? I am standing here in a WEDDING DRESS!" I think she kinda cried. And then I kinda cried. And then we hugged it out. Over the phone. Kinda. Anyway, it was too big, but it was still real exciting in a weird way. Uh, people? I'm a BRIDE.

A Little Bit Obsessed Over Here

2008-04-09T14:26:00.003-05:00

Okay, so I promise, promise, PROMISE that this will not turn into a total wedding blog (not that there's anything wrong with that) or lovey dovey post haven, it's just that I'm GETTING MARRIED and it's all so new to me and so, so EXCITING. Also, I will be sure to fill you in on our "wedding vision" as it gets clearer. Mainly it's going to be simple, eco-friendly, and elegant. We want it to be more of a party slash celebration and less of a production. Simplicity is the name of the game for us. So there's that.

With that being said, my Mom just emailed me the link to the store where she bought her dress (and still FITS INTO!!) over 30 years ago and HELLO FANCYPANTS! I am now in LOVE with this one dress. Like, I can't stop thinking about it I want it so badly. I'm OBSESSED. Is this normal?? HELP!

In other, non-related news: My Mom is on FACEBOOK. Yeah. No joke. She FRIENDED me the other day and I'm all, uhhh, WHAT?! I, of course, accepted her friend invitation, but then I posted on her page, "Uhh, Mom?" It made me feel weird inside when I realized that my Mom now has access to pictures of me shotgunning beers, slapping my friend's asses, and drinking Old Style on the streets of Chicago. (She'll be so proud.) You know, similar to all the pictures of me drinking Boones and smoking Benson & Hedges 100's that I kept hidden from her in the drawer next to my bed (slash journal) growing up.

The Love Bubble Has Returned

2008-04-09T10:19:00.003-05:00

Last night we took our first official step in the wedding planning process and met with our awesomely fantastical photographer. I am pretty much totally and completely in love with her. And I think Fiji is too, so it's fine. I mean, I want her to be my FRIEND. And go grab drinks with her and talk and take pictures and stuff. It's weird, but it's my life. Anyway, it was pretty freaking exciting to meet with her and talk about our "wedding vision" (sorry, that's icky) and look at her work and drink wine and basically fall in love all over again. (With Fiji, too.)

We told her about how we met and it just was so good to remember all that led up to our finally even TALKING and I still just can't believe how blessed I am to have found my love. The truest, most pure love. This morning in spin I actually got all choked up thinking about the whole thing and how I am just so, so happy. Down to my core. And I am so, so in love with Fiji it almost hurts. Remember that time in My So-Called Life where Angela and Rayanne are sitting in the back of the cab (?) going home from that club and Angela says that her ideal love proclamation would be, "You are so beautiful, it hurts to look at you." Remember that? That was awesome. And that's how I feel. Except for with love. It's like, I love him so much it hurts. But in a good way.

Classin' it Up. Since 1978.

2008-04-08T10:51:00.004-05:00

This morning on the jam-packed train I smooshed myself in between two over-sized diva bags and practically hugged the spiked-hair dude's patch-covered backpack in front of me. I held on with two (surprisingly strong!) fingers. About two minutes into the ride, the spikey-dude and his friend appeared to be looking at me and laughing. I did NOT find this funny so I gave the one dude the nastiest stank-eye I could and went about my typical morning commute of avoiding all other potential eye contact. I think I read the sign about the Currency Exchange (it's on the corner of Clark and State, FYI) about 317 times. Approximately. Although the spikey-dude had his back(pack) to me the whole time, he managed to turn around and smirk slash laugh at least three times. I almost punched him in the kidney. (But his backpack was in the way.) Then he somehow managed to get in front of me getting off the train, so I menacingly acted like I was following him (not really, I was just going that way too). He stopped and waited for his friend (weasel!) so I "stepped up" in his direction (not really, I tripped). That really showed him.

About an hour later, I used the ladies room and discovered I had smoothie remnants in my two front teeth, toothpaste on the corners of my mouth, and a big old zit in between my eyebrows. You can't get much classier than that.

I'm all Grows Up

2008-04-07T10:40:00.003-05:00

Hellllloooooo SPRING! I've missed you SO! I probably shouldn't say that since it's supposed to dip back down into the low 40's later this week. Which is awesome. But this was the first spring-like WHOLE weekend and we sure took advantage of it and basically sat on the roof deck for hours and hours each day. So that was nice. I even got a little BURNT. Also, the Cubs WON both days! Woohoo! We ended up getting randomly AWESOME and FREE tickets to Friday's game, which we lost, but whatever. It was still fun and did I mention FREE? Because it was.

Friday we also tried something new and different and went on a date planned by yours truly (that's me). I got all sorts of mad creative and planned dinner and a movie. WHOA. No one's ever done that before. But Coobah was delish and I'm so in love with that place (and their sangria!). Then we saw The Counterfeiters at the Music Box in the teeny, tiniest movie theatre in the history of movie theatres. And it was good. But holy hell sad. I mean, the girl in front of us was a total and complete wreck the whole time. BAWLING. Not even ashamed or anything. Which, I mean, it was devastating and I really can't blame her for getting upset at all, but I'm just not that open with my crying in public, I guess. Let alone bawling and convulsing. So the whole thing made me feel weird inside.

Then we went home and went to bed (before 10pm on a FRIDAY) because we are clearly 87 years old and also very, very lame. And then we did grown up things like take the car to the shop (Fiji) and go to the early EARLY spin class (me). To make matters even more lame, we then completed required readings and assignments for class (me) and cleaned the entire stairwell, including swept! and organized things (Fiji). All while listening to the Cubs game on the RADIO.

Good God, holy mother! WHO ARE WEEEEEEEE?!

Probably Best NOT to Follow Me

2008-04-04T11:19:00.002-05:00

Yesterday morning when I left the gym at 8am, I was too lazy slash kinda sweaty to put on my pants (I was still wearing shorts, DUH), which caused several many stares and "You CRAZY" looks from strangers. Which, clearly, I love. So anyway, I'm walking down the street with the on-the-way-to-work folks in winter coats and boots and stop on the corner to wait for the man tell me it's safe to walk. But I, like many or most city dwellers, take the crosswalk sign dude as a gentle warning or slight suggestion as to when to cross or not to cross the street. And since the sun was at that potentially disastrous level where it's ALWAYS in your eyes NO MATTER WHAT and manages to hit the stoplight at that perfect angle where it's simultaneously red, yellow, and green, I almost managed to kill about 10 people. Which would've really sucked. Hard.

So, basically, I am walking along in my shorts, ALREADY identified as The Crazy Lady, and then I look up and see the light turning yellow (which, as we all know, is followed by red) and therefore take that as my cue to start walking across the street since the cars will be stopping soon and such. Well, I start walking, and so do about 10 followers. I get about 5 feet in the street when I realize that WHOA those cars are NOT slowing down. Like, at all. Sooooo...that's weird. Quickly I look up to the stoplight and nope, still green. Still not time to cross. Uhhhh, whoops. Then I exclaim (LOUDLY), "Oh SHIT!" And start backing up with my arms outstreched (protecting my followers!) to encourage the others to retreat. I look back to both sides and I'm all, "SORRY PEOPLE!!" And really, I was sincerely sorry for risking their lives by distracting them with the shorts and then seeming to try to get them run over. It was an ACCIDENT. Honest. They were kinda pissed. But maybe they should make their OWN decisions rather than following the crowd and all. Didn't their Mom ever tell them about the jumping off the bridge thing? GEEZ.

p.s. 6 months from today I'm getting MARRIED. WHAT!

Fear Factor: Technological Deprivation

2008-04-02T13:48:00.006-05:00

On Sunday the unthinkable happened. First, our TV bulb burned out. The HORROR. We were in the middle of an epoisode of The Wire (Fiji's latest obsession) Season 4 (don't spill any Season 5 deets, kapeesh?) and it just went black. Like the whole ginormo screen. To be honest, I wasn't all THAT phased because it's not like we were watching the season finale of The Hills or My House is Worth WHAT or anything. I'm more of a "fair weather" Wire watcher. In fact, I like to use it as my sleep-aid. Then, of course, Fiji ends up watching the last 45 minutes of every episode twice, but that's how much he loves it! He doesn't even MIND!

ANYWAY. So, the TV died. And it was sad. But I was half-watching, half-guzzling wedding books and magazines and websites at the time so I was pretty much fine with it. A few hours later I was on the phone with my Mom discussing what other than wedding ideas when I hear Fiji shout SHEEE-IIIIIIIIIIITT (like the dude in The Wire, you know. WHAT? We're obsessed. And lame. WHAT OF IT. (Hi, new phrase I am in love with and want to marry! But I can't because I'm ALREADY TAKEN!)) So, I think to myself, "Self, whatever just happened goes under the whole umbrella of 'Not My Problem'." So I leave it be. And then come the worried-catastrophe-sounding un-words from the living room, so I take refuge in the bathroom where I can barely hear the moans and groans of the Feej. A few minutes later I can't take it anymore, so I go to find out what he's done this time and find him scrubbing the rug where a pint of Guiness has spilled. Uhh, hello? GUINNESS people. GUINNESS. It takes me a few minutes to notice that the laptop is in the downward dog position. DRYING OUT. The god-forsaken Guinness has spilled ON the COMPUTER. (The files are IN the computer?!) DEATH. I start to panic but change my mind and run to the kitchen for a beer instead. Because BEER (non-Guinness beer, of course) solves EVERYTHING. It's a scientific fact.

So there we are. Out a TV and a COMPUTER. On a SUNDAY afternoon. In the COLD WINTER. TV is one thing. But COMPUTER!?! NOOOOOO! I am in the middle (slash beginning!) of planning a WEDDING here people. I NEED the internets. And by golly THEY NEED ME.

Fiji implemented a "Don't You Dare Touch slash Think about Touching the Computer" ban for 72 hours, but the ban has since been lifted. Last night I stopped at Walgreens on the way home and purchased a cute little 72-piece miniature tool set. I cannot even begin to describe the awesomeness of this set. I fell in LOVE. It's just so LITTLE and CUTE. Plus, it was $3.99. SCORE! So anyway, the tool set and I went rushing home and I proudly presented it to the Feej who immediately began taking apart the laptop (SCARY!) and I even got to touch the insides! It was life-altering. And then he put it all back together (Computer engineer WHAT UP!) and I ran to get the battery. And then...it MAGICALLY turned ON!! Like, all by itself (not really)! I think I may have peed myself. Just a little.

So, let the wedding planning mania RESUME! All's well that ends well. Or something. (Except still no TV, but I can still watch The Hills online! HEYO!)

I Guess I'm in "The Club"

2008-04-01T11:07:00.003-05:00

So, I had an interesting experience at the 'ol doctor's office. Shocking, I know. As I'm sitting there in my paper "shirt" and "skirt," the doc comes in and she's all "What's new?" And CLEARLY I was like, "I just got engaged!" (Sidenote: I have been seeing her for a couple of years and she's young and insanely blunt and I like her. A lot. So obviously she NEEDS TO KNOW these things.) And she got SO excited and grabbed my finger (almost pulling it out of the socket!) to gush about the ring and asked me how it happened, etc, etc. Except for usually when people ask me those questions they aren't putting on rubber gloves, telling me to lie back, and poking around in my lady bits. But you know, WHATEVER. Apparently she was in Ft. Myers (just across the bridge from SANIBEL--where we got engaged) that SAME WEEKEND! For reals. So that was kinda weird slash cool. (I guess.) And then she tells me that she TOO is engaged! A real live doctor-bride!

So there I was, talking about how he didn't actually get down on one knee (such a rebel that Feej! Really bucking tradition!) at the beach with her head between my knees. (Is anyone elses life this awkward? Seriously.) Also, to be honest, I'm not sure how much she was concentrating on checking out the old area (not THAT old) and it sure seemed to go by quicker than usual. Anyway, we're good to go.

Then as I'm trading in my paper "gown" for my real, NON-CRINKLY clothes, I overheard her telling the nurse all about my engagement! And I'm all, "What the...?" But then the nurse comes in and she's engaged TOO and we were all such GIRLS about the whole thing and it was just so, SO strange. And kinda creepy. But in a good way? Kinda?

Then she gave me a tetanus shot, drew some blood for a cholesterol check and sent me on my bride-to-be way. Now my arm feels like it weighs, oh, a MILLION POUNDS, and someone VERY STRONG was punching it ALL NIGHT LONG. Which is nice.

So that happened.

A Little Bit of This, A Little Bit of That

2008-03-31T10:16:00.006-05:00

My boss just came in to try to "pump me up" for my recruiting efforts that officially commence today. It totally wasn't awk at all. Nope. Not at all.

I have an appointment to check out my lady bits today at lunch. Is it weird that I paid extra special attention shaving this morning? Uhhhh, Don?

The wedding planning has officially begun. Holy wow this is intense. I'm scared.

Cubs Opening Day is TODAY! Woop! GO CUBS GO!!

Fiji's been sick with the flu for the past several many days. While I hate for him to be sick, I kinda secretly love taking care of him. Like, a lot.

This post is so lame. I suck at life and living.

p.s. Lest we have forgotten, here is yet ANOTHER picture of my ring and my faux wood desk. Yes, I'm still taking phone pictures of my ring at work. WHAT OF IT. (Mmmm, sparkles.)

Forever and For Always

2008-03-26T08:59:00.009-05:00

So yeah, HI! I'm ENGAGED!! It's all pretty flipping fantastic and, you know, AWESOME and holy hell it's just all so fun! Anyway. I'm back at work slash reality and let me tell you, this work thing is SO overrated. BUT. We had quite the whirlwind of a weekend and almost didn't make it to Sanibel which probably would've severely fractured my heart. Basically, we missed our flight on Thursday because they CHANGED IT. Like, oh, it's FOUR HOURS EARLIER changed. I almost died. And then Fiji basically had to give them a kidney (or a million-gazillion miles) in order to get us on a flight to FLORIDA during Easter slash SPRING BREAK. At one point the lady was just like, um, sorry. There's nothing I can do. I pretty much started hyperventilating so Fiji asked me to go sit down. Good thing because that's when he was like, "LADY. LOOK. I'm trying to PROPOSE to my GIRLFRIEND this weekend. PLEASE MAKE SOMETHING HAPPEN." So an hour later we had tickets in hand (for the following day) and were told to come back tomorrow. Yeah. So that happened. On Friday we flew (First Class! HEYO!) into West Palm Beach, rented a car and drove across the state where my parents were waiting to drive us to the island. So YAY! We made it!!

And then it rained. Like, A LOT. A lotta lotta rain. It finally started to clear up in the late afternoon so Fiji suggested a walk on the beach. FINE. My nephew wanted to come along, but my Daddo managed to distract him without me even thinking twice.

And then we walked. Pretty far in fact. And talked and talked and walked and it was just so us. So comfortable and intimate and thoughtful. And of course I had to stop to take pictures every two seconds, which was nice. Then I became obsessed with these two clams for, oh, a WHILE. And when I finally stood up to continue on our voyage, there he stood. With the most glittery sparkly shiny thing I have ever seen. And he asked me to marry him. And what did I say? SHUT. UP. No joke. First words. Then I yelped or something similarly attractive. And pretty much jumped on top of him. Then I was so excited I thought I was going to throw up. (Of course I had to share that information with my FIANCE.) And then I am not sure what happened because I blacked out. I think. But I do know that I laughed a LOT and was bouncing all around. And then a DOLPHIN swam up to us. Seriously. I am not even joking. It was the coolest. And now I am engaged to marry the best friend that I have ever known. Forever and for always.

Now to the good stuff: PICTURE PAGES!

The notorious clams!

The notorious dolphin!

The notorious JEWELS!

Mrs. Fiji (To Be...)!!!

2008-03-25T14:35:00.004-05:00

What started in the second car of a train in the so-called Second City has turned into the greatest love I have ever known. Or will ever know.

No amount of coffee, no amount of crying.
No amount of whiskey, no amount of wine.
No, no, no, no, no.
Nothing else will do, I've gotta have you.
Gotta have you.

2008-03-19T10:13:00.004-05:00

So, the last four posts that I have written I have posted and then immediately taken down. WHY? IDK. I suck at life. Clearly.

Anyway. Today is Wednesday which can also be referred to as FRIDAY in the TillyFeej household since we are going to the beach tomorrow! Well, we won't technically get to the beach tomorrow in time to get a tan, which is obviously the most important aspect of the beach. But still. The sandy beaches will be approximately 50-100 steps away (I will report back on the specifics next week). In addition, I will get to see my whole familia which is always fun and exciting, including three small munchkins (redundant much?). In addition to that addition, my Mom has informed me that Willard Scott is our next door neighbor. HEYO! (I had to google image his ass to make sure I was thinking of the right person. LAME.)

So yeah. That happened.

UPDATE: ALSO. I am wearing sneakers* to work today (REBEL!) and they were the same ones I wore on Saturday (aka The Day the River Turned Green slash The St. Patricks Day Parade That I Couldn't See slash Clusterfuck Central). As I'm doing some lady bizness, I notice some JELLO SHOT stains. Yeah. True story. And I wasn't even the one who SPILLED the nastyness on me. Nope. It was FIJI. He so graciously accepted the offer of a GREEN jello shot from a burnt orange teenybopper then didn't share any with me and THEN spills it all over my shoe. AND this all happened on the train. BEFORE noon. And all I got was some sticky green shit on my shoe. The end.

*Fiji claims I am the ONLY person who uses the phrase SNEAKERS. I'm not, right? RIGHT?!

p.s. They are not running shoes, those are different. They are ROCKET DOGS!

I'm a LEPRECHAUN!

2008-03-14T09:04:00.005-05:00

After spin class this morning I was just plain pissy. No reason in particular, just 'cause. Then I took a shower, put on some green, ran out into the living room, announced that I was a leprechaun and attempted a jig. It was awesome.

Tomorrow we are starting our day with some cocktails (the way the Irish intended it) and then heading downtown to see the St. Patrick's Day Parade and gape at the green river. (I'm kinda grossed out about that, btw.)

Today's TWOTD is: GAPER. I'm not sure what Webster's definition of gaper is, but after years of living in Breckenridge we called all the tourists GAPERS as their mouths gaped open as they stared at the magnificent mountains. (It's a mountain, stupid.) They also gaped at people walking down the street and snow, but whatever. GAPERS! I taught my family this phrase and it became like my Moms favorite word of all time. She would often use it incorrectly, but I let it slide. Anyway, there are tons of GAPERS downtown, especially at parades and festivals and shit. So I am mentally preparing myself ahead of time so I don't lose my shiz tomorrow when people are all up in my business and do not know how to correctly walk down the sidewalk or ride the train.

ALSO! I was doing a little research this morning, as in I googled "fun Irish words," and GUESS WHAT!?! TILLY is a FUN IRISH WORD!! Can you even believe it?! I can't.

Tilly: (from tuilleadh, 'an additional quantity, supplement') used in Ireland and places of Irish settlement such as Newfoundland to refer to an additional article or amount unpaid for by the purchaser, as a gift from the vendor (OED)

DUDE. How exciting is THIS!? Answer: SOOOOO exciting! Basically my name means a super sweet stash! Or FREE SHIT! Yesssssssssssssssssss. AND I've always wanted to GET a NEWFIE, so basically it's meant to be.

This is the best day of my life.

TWOTD

2008-03-13T10:10:00.004-05:00

The Word Of The Day.

Let's start with yesterday's TWOTD which was weasel. IDK why, but I think I used weasel approximately 17 times yesterday. In various (inappropriate) contexts. And it made me giggle with delight. So it's a keeper. Maybe it will be TWOTD everyday. That's just how good it is.

TWOTD today is ass-nasty. (I guess that's more of a phrase. WHATEVER.) As in, I ran out of my sweet nectar coffee and was forced to drink the ass-nasty blend of The Cross-Eyed. It was ass-nasty. (Shocker!)

That's all the time I have today folks. SOMEONE (who maybe makes a habit of wearing RIPPED dress pants) is trying to get their money's worth these days. The nerve!

TWO Posts in ONE DAY! Who am I?

2008-03-12T11:09:00.002-05:00

The following is a REAL gchat that took place this morning. It is true. ALL true, but yet totally and completely UNREAL.

me: My boss has HUGE RIPS in the BACK OF HIS PANTS today
I have yet to see it but OMG
SOMEONE has to tell him
me: OMG OMG OMG!!!
Lady Pedro: haha
who is going to tell him!
how awk!
me: IDK IDK
not ME
also, apparently he's worn them BEFORE
Lady Pedro: and they had the rip then!?!?
me: YES! That is like THE definition of awk
Lady Pedro: what is WRONG with him
where is the rip located
me: beneath his BUTT
like, the back of his upper, upper leg
Lady Pedro: oh god
horrible
me: I can't stop laughing. I feel sick.
Lady Pedro: hahahah
me: Also, when she told me I could feel my face BLUSHING
Like I am embarrassed FOR HIM
it's just too much
TOO perf
TOO awk
Lady Pedro: hahahahahaha

And this completes the "Why My Office is AWK to the MAX" portion of today's program.

I Hate REM (The band not the sleep stage)

2008-03-12T09:24:00.004-05:00

I feel like I'm always blabbering on and on about how people at work are awk, people at the gym are awk, I'm awk, or my life is made up of awk. I guess I feel that way because it's true. I'm like the Awk Complain Conductor or something. DEWAI. (Don't Even Worry About It for those of you who are in the unknowing stage of our relationship.) NEWAI. (NOT Even Worrying About It.) (If you don't know, now you know, N-word I can't say.)

So, since clearly the AWK is my theme, let's commence. This morning I was talking with a co-worker about swimming (?) and I casually mention how I used to be a synchronized swimmer when I lived in CA. And she looked at me (more like EXAMINED) and she's all, "You LOOK like a synchronized swimmer."

And then I felt weird inside.

And then she goes on to tell me I'm SHINY.

And then I touch my face.

And then she's like, "Not your skin, like you are a shiny person. Bright and cheery and stuff."

Me: Oh. Ok.

(Little does she know that I document why I hate people on the internets all the livelong day. (For Stephanie.))

The end.

It's funny 'cause it's true.

True DOUBLE TRUE. (For Tessie.)

Cuidado, cuidado. Apisamijado.

2008-03-11T13:29:00.003-05:00

Last night I went to a spin class that I haven't been to in a while and HOLY HELL those people take themselves WAY too seriously. This coming from someone who wears spandex shorts and clip-ins! First of all, this one dude put his towel in the back pocket of his Uber-Biker-Sweat-Wicker-Shirt? COME ON, MAN. Our bikes are STATIONARY, as in NOT MOVING, as in put your towel on the handlebars like everybody else. Secondly, when we FINALLY are allowed a 30 second rest period to DRY OFF and get a DROP OF WATER, do not piss me off and run run run and pretend you were not completely dominated by that hill. Puh-lease. I'm watching you. Cuidado, cuidado, apisamijado.* Thirdest, well, IDK but there was some other crazy shit going on up in that piece. But I got too distracted trying to determine what exactly the shman was two rows in front of me. Even after an uncomfortably extended and perplexed staring sesh, results turned out to be inconclusive. Shman it is. In sum: Anything you can do I can do better; I can do anything better than you.

*This is how I say it in my head (and outloud). **
**This makes little to no sense (none) in this context. BITE ME. (But not too hard.)

Well, That Was Predictably Awk

2008-03-10T13:02:00.005-05:00

Today I was lucky enough to again experience the awk that is The Office Birthday Party. The half-assed singing, the unnecessary standing around, the uncomfortable silence, the gross artificial cakes, the forced small talk. I actually asked my co-worker, "So, Tom, what projects are you working on?" (Who AM I?! I'm scared.) But today's little gathering was even more awk because it was the birthday of the boss man. For the picture he held the (cake-cutting) knife up like an axe murderer. No joke. I also broke the unnecessary standing bull shit by taking a seat at the far-end of the table--behind the fake tree. A few minutes later people followed suit allowing my anxiety level to drop significantly. I then witnessed conversations involving getting "destroyed this weekend" and how raisins really add a lot to cereal. Invigorating. But the most interesting event was the "alternative" vegan cake that was offered. (I even tried it, breaking my no-eating-in-front-of-coworkers-stance. It was actually good. Fiji would be proud.) Apparently the boss's favorite hobby is "healthy eating." Which I didn't know was a hobby, but, well, fine. Who am I to judge when my favorite hobby is documenting why I hate people. On the internets.

Ceci, My Love

2008-03-07T09:44:00.008-06:00

In lieu of posting another Whine-Fest 2k8 post, I am leaving you (for the weekend) with Ceci. The little piggy who stole my heart in Costa Rica. In addition, I think she may have stolen my positive attitude and sense of humor, hard to tell, but that may have been lost a while back.

Don't you just LOVE her and (I started to say "want to eat her up," but that seems totally inappropriate) want to hug her and kiss her and love her forever and ever Amen? Well, I do. So FALL IN LINE. (I kid, I kid.)

And here is a little bonus view of our sweet-ass cabina. (Someone's a teensy-bit vacay-sick (as in the opposite of home-sick, get it?), wouldn't you say?)

I am back there. If only in my MIND.

PEACE.

*Photos courtesy of PhotoFace. She's got mad skills.

Emotional Shit Show Anyone?

2008-03-05T10:40:00.004-06:00

This morning I experienced what can only be referred to as an Emotional Shit Show. (I would do that little trademark dealio, if only I knew how. GOD MY LIFE SUCKS. Just kidding. Not really.)

Anyway. I'm moving forward and being what can only be referred to as Introspective as Shit on this fine (fuck-face) Wednesday morning. (Jeez. SOMEONE got up on the wrong side of the bed.) So I've noticed a few (ANNOYING) traits that I exhibit in the last 3 minutes that I would like to share with you people, just so we all know what we're dealing with here (A Crazy). Ok? I'm nothing if not uncomfortably blunt and straight-forward. (Pause...Not.)

1. If there are seconds remaining on the microwave, I must CLEAR them. Every time. I just can't stand to have those seconds remaining. Like, OH NO, what's gonna happen??! There are EXTRA SECONDS on the microwave timer! DEATH.

2. No matter what I'm doing (blogging), I must always minimize the screen when someone enters my office. Even when I'm doing REAL work. Therefore I look like a total SKETCH-BALL all the flipping time. Awesome. It doesn't help that I have the most ginormous computer screen known to man. Like, no joke. It's probably about 78 inches or something. But I'm really bad at estimating those types of things. But it's REALLY BIG. You're just going to have to TRUST ME on this one. OKAY?

3. If I'm at someone's house or at work or anywhere else using a bathroom that isn't my own and they have (idiotically) put the toilet paper roll in the toilet paper holder incorrectly, I MUST change it. I have no choice. I can't help myself. Kinda like the whole laces in/laces out debacle from Ace Ventura, except different. And sometimes it's REALLY DIFFICULT to get the holder thing loose, you know? So I would estimate that I waste approximately 3.2% of my life correcting asshat toilet paper roll placers. But again, I'm not good with the guestimations so it could be much, much more. Help.

4. I am currently in midst of Week 2 of what I like to lovingly refer to as "Operation: Don't let the cross-eyed lady catch me switching out her ass-nasty coffee with my special Costa Rican blend that I brought back from the homeland (not really, but I wish it was my homeland)." I'm thinking I should come up with a new title. It is, quite honestly, one of the most anxiety-provoking, nerve-racking missions of my life. I'm not sure what I think is going to happen if and when (hopefully NEVER) she catches me, but I'm like a coffee-making wizard. Or something. I'm in and out intwominutesflat and have mastered the process so I make just enough for my one cup and pour her craptastic triple chocolate mania shit back in and no one's the wiser. (Except for the other lady I work with coming in this morning and asking what I was doing. To which I responded, "Making COFFEE!? (DUH) Ever heard of it?" That sure showed her.)

Kill me now.

This one makes no sense. SORRY.

2008-03-04T10:36:00.003-06:00

Since I am pretty much a lamo hermit-head these days, I am not often forced to endure awkward "run-ins" with rando's who I hoped to never see again. Praises. However, I can't expect to sail through my city-life in such a blessed manner. Curses. I can, however, pretend to be so self-absorbed or obsessed with the button on my sweet-ass fingerless, elbow-length gloves that I don't notice the awkward "run-in" upon me. Take, for instance, last evening. I was simply minding my own beeswax chatting with a friend at a local diner when she looked frighteningly alarmed and continually and somewhat psychotically began to repeat "Alexis, Alexis, Alexis!" (Names have not been changed because I don't GIVE A SHIT.) I panic, "WHAT!! I don't even KNOW Alexis!" "Yes you do you idiot! (She didn't really call me an idiot. That's my artistic freedom coming in.) It's Veronica's brother's cousin's ex-girlfriend. You know! The one with the BROWNIES!" "Ohhhhh yeah!! Ha. I do remember those brownies. (They were the special kind. If you know what I mean and I think you do)." Anyway. The rest of our dinner was pretty much ruined because I was completing my assigned duty (assigned to myself, by myself) to eavesdrop on her conversation. With her new (uggo) boyfriend. Basically I learned nothing because I was too distracted by her two french-braided braids.

Worst story EVER.

So There's That

2008-03-03T10:56:00.005-06:00

Sia rocked. (Despite the granularly poor quality of this camera phone pic.) Unfortunately, the opening act, Har Mar Superstar, was disturbing and quite nauseating. In fact, he stripped down to his tighty-reddies by the end of the performance. And, trust me, it was NOTHING that you would ever (never ever) want to see all the days of living your life. NOTHING. I mean, it was slightly entertaining, but my mouth was agape (= DRY = needing to be whetted = too many beerssss) the entire time. And it looked like the bassist was humping his guitar, which was nice.

Sia also regaled us with tales of her "Uh-Oh Bum" after a particularly regrettable airport Taco Bell value meal experience. Hearing someone discuss their diarrhea issues has never been so endearing and CUTE. I guess that's what an Australian accent can do. (Sorry, Hope.)

In other news, I am (somewhat slash majorly) embarrassed to admit that I had another "Sloth-Style Sunday." But what really blows my fucking mind is that I cannot simply allow myself to enjoy my extreme lazypantsface and instead I must hate on myself all day rather than, say, getting up off my ass and doing something (ANYTHING) productive. I hate myself. BUT, Fiji and I did rearrange our kitchen cabinets (Wheeeeeeee!) on Saturday morning. So there's that.*

*Favorite way to end a post/email/text/story ever. EVER.

BlahBlahBlog

2008-02-29T12:57:00.002-06:00

I have little to nothing to say today except that I'm going to see Sia tonight. Jealous?

Oh, and there was puke/diarrhea on our work toilet yesterday. (I couldn't tell because I RAN OUT of the bathroom.) And I just about threw up a little slash a lot a bit in my mouth. I am too grossed out to go back in there.

And another thing--I saw a Barack pin and sticker in my boss's (?) office and it made me like him just a little (teeny, tiny) bit more. Am I exibiting some sort of positive bias or prejudice thing? What does this say about me? That I judge people and form my opinions about them based on superficial traits? Because I already knew that.

Oh, also, one of my coworkers (the one that calls me Miss Tilly) has his three children in work today. Uh?? Ok. Just wanted to tattle, I guess.

Good Talk

2008-02-28T09:59:00.007-06:00

I was in a meeting with my boss yesterday afternoon talking in circles, per usual, when he (out of NOWHERE) started critiquing all of our "junior" staff, most of whom are currently in the midst of applying to or interviewing for graduate school. And let me just say that he did NOT hold anything back. Nada. And his door was WIDE OPEN. I was like, "Now, tell us what you really think." Which did not go over too well. As in silence and blank stares. Luckily we moved on shortly after that. Yeah, moved on to discussions about whose GRE scores SUCKED and who didn't seem to be all that bright. YIKES. I willed my invisibility skills to kick in, but no such luck. Every time I leave his office I make these squirmy, big-eyed, stunned in disbelief, awkward faces. To myself. Or anyone else roaming the halls. So that's fun.

p.s. I wore a wristband to the gym this morning. AND used it. It was awesome.
p.p.s. Whenever my boss talks about junior and senior staff, I pretend I live on The West Wing and grab lunch with CJ and maybe probably most likely date Sam Seaborn and we make the world a better place. The end. I'm lame. Bye.

Picture Pages: Part "Trace"

2008-02-27T10:14:00.016-06:00

So, rather than share my exciting toilet-seat shopping experience of last night (who needs THAT MANY choices??! Gee whiz), I decided to post some of my kinda-crappy pictures from the trip (just for you, Fanny). Look, before you go all judgey-wudgey on my ass, Photoface (the PROFESSIONAL) took like a thousand million and is still editing them, so maybe I might share some of the real good ones later, like the one where I'm holding a rando dog or climbing a huge rock face. Because those are super sweet and who wouldn't want to see those. Really, who? Also, since I know looking at pictures of other people's vacay's is like the number uno (hello! Spanish pro!) top dog spot on your to-do list, I may or may not have also included a dark sorta blurry sideways picture of me. WOW. Tantalizing.

And we're off.

Pretty flower. Claro.

Our front "yard." Cloudy.

Our side "yard." Lushness.

Our pimp cruisers. At our favorite cabana bar. On the beach.

The SLOTH (aka me.)

Our fancypants, special dinner.

My birthday "bouquet" for PhotoFace. And my toes.

Look! It's me! Kinda! Pensive. Slash tipsy.

Pura Vida

2008-02-26T09:38:00.002-06:00

So yeah. Costa Rica MON. It was...awetabulastic. Mainly because, well, it was SUNNY and WARM and all things that Chicago (as of late) is not. Also, no work. Also, beer in the AM. Also, the most amazingly delicious pina colada's in the whole entire world. ENTIRE. Please don't question me on this.

Some of my favorite highlights include:

-Meeting and falling desperately in love with a little pig named Ceci.
-Holding a RANDOM DOG (named Matteus) on my LAP during DINNER. (What?! We had shots of Guarro.)
-Falling asleep to the sounds of waves crashing on the beach every night. Oh, and the mono's (monkeys!) hooting and hollering in the jungle. (Although that was kinda scary. But not really.)
-The waves crashing on the beach being, oh, 20 steps from our little cabina.
-Um, um, um. Some other cool and fun stuff.
-TACA airlines asked me to be their Valentine. And I gladly accepted. They are the coolest. I am in love. Also, they WAITED for like an HOUR for us. As in, our flight from San Jose to Gautemala was delayed (like a lot) and they WAITED for US (and our bags!). The flight to Chicago was the last of the night and we would've been stranded (except for the fact that the lady next to us lived there and basically invited us to stay with her and her sick mother and take us to some parties and Fiji was actually DISAPPOINTED when we made our flight. Yeah.) It was amazing. I may have cried (just a little) and hugged the stewardess, who honestly didn't seem all that phased.
-Riding our bikes in the dark.
-Climbing this big rock in the jungle and pretending that I was some awesome discoverer lady uncovering hidden treasure lands. (Awk.)
-Lunar eclipse. On the beach. Total surprise. Other-worldly.
-Dancing with a Tico in a Tico bar to Frank Sinatra.
-Every cabbie/restaurant/store playing American 80's music.
-El Sol. El Sol. El Sol.

I'm really trying not to be too bitter about the whole leaving Costa Rica and coming back to America thing. Really. I'm trying. But I AM happy to be sleeping in my OWN bed. When we finally made it home (at 2:30am), I jumped in and couldn't stop giggling and confessed my undying love. To my bed. So there's that.

2008-02-25T11:19:00.002-06:00

I was here:

Now I'm not.

Boo. Wah. Blech.

RealQuickLike

2008-02-13T13:50:00.002-06:00

1. My office is approximately 17,000 degrees. Not even exaggerating. I had to take off my sweater, shoes AND socks. Sure hope my boss doesn't come in. I also had to apply my secret deoderant stash. TWICE. I think my knees are even sweaty.
2. You know what's awkward? Trying to pilfer through barfy Valentine's Day cards with OTHER PEOPLE standing uncomfortably close to your body. I don't really like picking out ANY cards when other people are around, not even a Congrats you are a DOG-MOM card. So picking out gushy, pukey, romantical cards is like the WORST.
3. My spin instructor hates me. (Not SpinGuy, of COURSE!) I don't know why, maybe because he's a big gay. (I hope no one really takes offense to this--I'm kidding like 1,000%.) I didn't do my "homework" from last week and calculate my resting heart rate and crap and he was like seriously pissed at me about it. SORRY I have a LIFE outside of the GYM. Geez.
4. I've been seriously distracted all day today and cannot really focus on actual work. So I'm burning new CD's to my iPod and planning what movies to rent from iTunes. SPLADOW.
5. I just drank a Cherry Coca-Cola Zero and I think I'm in love. (And maybe a little HYPERSPASTICEXPIALODOCIOUS.)

Archive Digging

2008-02-13T10:02:00.005-06:00

Tonight, well technically tomorrow morning (2am!) I leave for here.

Don't miss me and my awkward tales too much. There will be plenty more when I return, undoubtedly.

And since Sarah tagged me (like last week--I'm quick on the draw), I thought that maybe I would procrastinate my last day on the job for a SEVEN (work) DAYS and leave you people some things to entertain you (potentially?) or maybe annoy you (my most valued skill). Whatevs.

Archive Meme Instructions:

Link 1 must be about family. This is, surprisingly, one of the only one's I found (in my brief search--WHAT? I got impatient). Real nice representation here. Real nice.
Link 2 must be about friends. This one isn't funny persay. But I miss her like ouch and I still can't believe that she has never, and will never, meet Fiji. Oh, and there's this one. I'm a cheater, what can I say.
Link 3 must be about yourself, who you are, what you’re all about. As if I even KNOW this.
Link 4 must be about something you love. The train. DUH. No, not really. But kinda.
Link 5 can be anything you choose. Which is last years Valentine's Day post. Because I am that creative.

I will miss you all dearly (but not TOO dearly). BYEEEEEEEEEEEE!

M I S S I S S I P P I

2008-02-12T11:07:00.000-06:00

Jackson Mississippi, to be exact. Yeah, so that happened.

It was quite the interesting 36 hours. It was approximately 70+ degrees warmer there, which is approximately 70 gazilliontrillion times more pleasant and sunny. And I think I may have even cracked a smile or two. So there's that. In addition, instead of people walking around (in the subzero temperatures) every which way around these parts, there were NO people walking around. Anywhere. Ever. It was...odd. And eery. And confusing. I was like, do they NOT KNOW that it is like the NICEST DAY (in February) EVER? Fiji said it felt like a movie set. I thought it was some sort of conspiracy and zombies were probably about to attack us left and right. Either way.

So we walked around downtown (the conceirge was SHOCKED and PANICKED that we were without-car) in the hopes of grabbing a drink (lushes) and seeing some shops and galleries. But lo and behold everything was CLOSED. Literally. Everything. We snuck into a hotel (where we were NOT staying--dare devils!) and the lady took pity on our souls and provided us with some devil potion at the ever-popular booze hour: 2pm. WHAT. We were on pseudo-vacay! Fiji basically had to instruct her on how to make a Manhattan so I just went for the old stand-by vod-ton. Delish. Wow. Did I just write a whole paragraph about our two drinks? Impressive.

The next day Fiji had to do his whole "work" thing so I was left to fend for myself. I (brilliantly) decide to go for a run/jog/death voyage. See, unlike Chicago, Jackson has what some like to refer to as hills. And these HILLS are not my friends. As in they hate me. So anyway, if I thought people were looking at me funny walking around, try running around. It's as if they've never seen such a thing. It's called EXERCISE people. Look into it.

Anyway, people were practically pointing and staring (and possibly laughing) as I dodged in and out of throngs of church-goers (matching father-son/mother-daughter outfits and all). Maybe that's why they were staring--hey Billy, look there's one of those them SINNERS. (Was that bad?) I mean, I was "working" on the Sabbath and all. So I finally make it back to the hotel and I look in the mirror and my face is what some may describe as crimson. After a cold shower and walking around with the doors and windows open in my underwear, I was still sweating. Pretty. I go to check out and ask the concierge to recommend a place to get something to eat and read outside within walking distance. He laughs in my face. Nothing-not ONE thing. Again, the no-car issue. So I brave the "mile or so" walk to "Pizza Shack" (even though I gave up pizza for Lent--again) and here we go again with the honking and the staring and the pointing. So I do what any typical out-of-place person would do--start making MASS phone calls. Then my phone dies. The HORROR. I was all alone in a strange land. The only other people outside walking were homeless men. Awesome. Plus I'm sweating and gross and overdressed and practically dying of thirst and starvation. Even CVS was closed. What IS this place?

Finally I reach my destination, "The Pizza Shack," which turned out to be what can only fairly be described as THE hot spot in town. I felt so lucky. People were really letting loose with pitchers of Budweiser and hot pizza pies. I sat outside and read my book alone at my hugeass picnic table. And ate a sandwich. And stopped sweating balls. And all was well with the world once again.

Then I painted my toenails.

True story.

Venting

2008-02-11T10:13:00.000-06:00

We spent the weekend in Jackson, Mississippi and as much as I want to tell y'all about it (and I will), I have to get something off my chest IMMEDIATELY.

As I was showering this morning listening to NPR, per usual, they were discussing the percentage of black voters voting for Obama and how Oprah is bringing in the black women voters and yada yada and I (literally) YELLED (full-on scream) at the (poor) shower radio (?) "SHUT THE FUCK UP. WHO CARES ABOUT THE COLOR OF HIS SKIN!!!!!!!!!!"

Apparently this made me very, very angry. And it STILL DOES. Can we PLEASE move past his race, Hillary's sex, etc. People, come on. I am SO over it. Obama will get votes from white and black, men and women, old and young. And so will Hillary. Does this whole FUCKING election have to be boiled down to such superficial traits??

I mean, I know it does. I know it will. I know that that is what we do, what political analysts do, and that we as a country are still so caught up with these dividing characteristics. But that doesn't mean that I am okay with it. Because I'm not.

My New Hairdid

2008-02-08T10:08:00.000-06:00

So, I tried (I REALLY TRIED) to take a good shot of my new hairdid. BUT 1) I don't really enjoy getting my picture taken, which is somewhat of a challenge when I spend lots of my time with a professional photographer (hi PhotoFace!), 2) I only have my cameraphone here--suck, 3) Um, HELLO, I'm at WORK taking pictures of myself? So that is not awkward at all when, say, my boss walks by to say good morning and I'm holding my PHONE arms-length from my face, and 4) I'm ANONYMOUS. Well, to some/most of you. So I don't want to ruin the SURPRISE (or rather, secret) and would prefer to leave you all constantly wondering if I'm and uggo or not.

SO. Anyway. Here I am. In all my awesome photo taking glory. The hairscut? You can't really see. But she cut off like 2 inches or so. I didn't ask. AND she was as quiet as a mute mouse. I mean, I was expecting a more luxurious experience. But there were BOYS there (It was unisex--I thought i was being all forward thinking and the like. WRONG. It was just weird.) and sometimes I would awkwardly make eye-contact with them through our mirrors and it made me want to die inside. Also, the window next to my chair was cracked, there were gun-shot holes in the front glass (classy), AND they were doing some renovations so the whole place smelled like paint. Boo to the hoo. BUT, I like my professional hairscut. And I think it was a success because neither Fiji nor I could stop touching it (the hair) the entire night. AND he took me on a date. (To the place we went on our FIRST date. FINE it's like a step and a half away from our place, but STILL.) Jealous?

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 (Minus 8)

2008-02-07T16:23:00.000-06:00

Some stuff:

1. Supervising college students. Wow. I've never witnessed such intense cluelessness. I mean, I am sure I was the exact same way. But seriously? We need to go over what a COLUMN is in a spreadsheet?? Seriously?

2. I work in a center with oh, Idon'tknow, 17,000 women and maybe THREE men. So when I go to use the restroom and approximately 8.6 times out of 10 (I have a pea-sized bladder (and pea-sized cranium as a matter of fact! ZING)) the toliet seat is in the DOWNWARD (dog) POSITION. This is NOT ok. NOT. I would rather not have to even ENTER the bathroom shared with these people, let alone TOUCH the toilet seat! Nastyness. SICK to infiniti and beyond. Don't even get me started about the fucktards that leave the LIGHT ON. Energy wastin' sonsabitches. I can't wait to catch some poor soul in the act!! MAN will they feel my wrath.

3. I just went into the kitchen to wash my afternoon apple (I'm frighteningly routine oriented) and just washed 'er right up, used a paper towel to clean off the counter, walked by the trash and THREW MY APPLE AWAY. Not only that, but I walked about halfway down the hall until I realized what I had done. Then I debated about whether or not to reach into the trash to save my honeycrisp's sweet soul (to then devour?). Germs couldn't deter me this time. And yes, she was delish.

4. I'm getting my hairscut tonight. As in, in 25 minutes. This may not seem like a big deal to the average, responsible, NORMAL individual. BUT. It is kind of a big deal for me (slash I'm kind of a big deal). I've only had my haircut by a professional ONE other time. IN MY LIFE. And that did NOT go so well. But that was also during a very awkward time in my life. So, yeah. And no, I don't have Guiness World Record style long hair or anything. It's just that my MOM cuts my hair. Basically every time I see her. So, I trust her. And I don't trust people who try to make me have a hair STYLE. So, it's really happening. I am getting my hair did.

Wow. Not Sure What Happened Here.

2008-02-06T10:02:00.001-06:00

When I first started my job, I had orientation for the first day and a half, which was clearly a blast. I mean, who doesn't LOVE introducing yourself in front of strangers that you will never see again and telling them something "unique" about yourself. I (brilliantly) chose to go with the old, "I have a bird named Goose" fact, because 1) It's true (True double true for Tessie), 2) I still find it to be hilarious, and 3) It is really not that personal or embarrassing. Yeah, except for when the facilitator ALSO had a bird, for like 25 years that he HATED. Great. Awesome. And not awk at all. Anyway, excuse the tangent.

So, during orientation it turns out that there is a woman there who (please God forgive me) is cross-eyed. I'm sorry. But I'm not sure how many of you have actually come into contact with a cross-eyed adult. I am obviously an immature and cruel individual. I can't help it. But she just happened to be sitting kind of across from me. Well, technically diaganol, but I think you see where I'm going with this. Basically she stared at me the whole time (I think). I have a seriously very large issue with starers. Like, they should be killed. No, no. Just punched in the eye. ANYWAY. Stare, stare, stare. All the live-long day. Drove me nuts. So much so that I could barely focus on our 403(b) instructions (which, for those of you who are unaware, is the non-profit equivalent to the 401k). That bitch made me lose precious funding for my future.

Flash forward to the next day when I realize that this cross-eyed lady is WORKING IN MY DEPARTMENT. Yup. The same one. My very small center. I didn't realize it at first because she called it something completely different (still confused about that one). That and I wasn't really paying attention and was desperately trying to avoid any prolonged eye contact. (Get ready, here comes the ACTUAL reason for this post. PHEW.)

So, this lady she lives in the 'burbs (SHOCKER) and drives in really early. Therefore she gets in to the office before me. Therefore she makes HER coffee in the pot. Her coffee is always some fruity flavor like triple lutz chocolate caramel supreme. Or something. LAME. Also, she gets GRINDS in the coffee. EACH and EVERY time. Makes no sense. I just don't know. Basically I hate her. No, no I don't. I just don't appreciate the way in which she makes coffee. But I do hate the flavor. So there. Anyway, I've been debating over what to do when I want MY coffee. Do I throw the rest of hers away?! That seems rude. Do I just suck it up and drink that nastyness? WHAT!? So today I came to the genius conclusion that I would pour hers out into a cup and set it next to the coffee maker because that way I am not just wasting it. Also, if she were to walk into the kitchen I could be like, oh hi! Here you go! Just poured this out for you!! Because that wouldn't be weird. And then I make my own deliciousness! Everybody wins! (slash I win!) So, what do think? Fair? (Pleasesayyespleasesayyespleaseyes!)

p.s. Go Barack.

SUPER TUESDAY

2008-02-05T09:24:00.001-06:00

Hi peoples. Today is already immeasurably better than yesterday. Why? IDK. But it is and I'm going with it. Yesterday on the train home I saw a HUGE snowman, like ginormous and I laughed OUT LOUD. Not sure why...but I just don't see giant snowmen in the city all that much slash ever. And then as soon as I got home I removed all articles of work clothing and accessories and enveloped myself in pillows and blankets and everything cotton and stretchy related and watched HGTV (because I am OBSESSED) and giggled with pleasure. We have decided to apply for every show possible, although I am kinda wondering if that will make us come off as desperate and needy, and nobody wants an easy, loose homeowner right? Or maybe they DO. Also, I've been taking notes when watching the various shows because I am a serious nerdo to the max. And also because Fiji kinda made me/asked me to. You know, since I am obsessed and all, we may try to actually get something out of it. BAH. He is the most productive person that I have ever met. It's amazing. He's worse than my mother who will knit while she watches a movie just to make sure she is still getting something PRODUCTIVE accomplished. I think that gene skips a generation, similar to alcoholism (which is clearly NOT funny).

Oh, and also, today is SUPER TUESDAY! If you weren't aware by all the people handing out flyers and instructions on how to vote and where to vote and posting announcements on cars and doors and children's faces and stuff. We voted early (as you may recall) because we're cool like that. But now I kinda feel like voting early was anti-climactic and takes the excitement out of SUPER TUESDAY. And also I really wanted a sticker. Ahh, the plight of the non-procrastinator.

BEWARE: My eyes are shooting dagger-like laserbeams

2008-02-04T14:12:00.000-06:00

I'm not sure why, but I feel like I want to punch someone in the face. Maybe it was that Brady couldn't get a decent throw off, maybe it was the commercials were seriously lacking (um, HELLO, I'd seen MANY of them before! WTFlip?), maybe it was the bottle of wine I drank to my head Saturday night that made me feel off-balance all of Sunday, maybe it was/is the pale pasty face that hasn't seen the sun in many moons, maybe it was Bill Belichek's short-sleeved hoodie, maybe it was the chinese food (slash MSG poison), IDK. All I know is that I should be re-freaking-joycing!

-New bathroom: BLUE
-New Wall: Chocolate-deliciousness
-New Room: OURS
-Super Tuesday: Tomorrow
-Free trip down south: 5 days
-Costa Rica: 10 days!!

While I should be bouncing around my office singing show tunes (just kidding, I hate them), I'm stuck with a scowl and a dismal day. Negative Nelly strikes again. Wah.

Remember(ing) Two Things

2008-02-01T15:00:00.000-06:00

I've been listening to my "Joshua Radin Radio" channel designed by my very own (technically not "mine" mine, in the typical sense of "mine") Pandora Music Genome Project, which sounds like quite the biomedically progressive music station. Anyway, I just got back from making some hot chocolate and small talk (extraneously unimportant and uninteresting factoids) and there was a nice song playing that I not only recognized but knew all the words to, yet couldn't quite place. Fast forward to thirty seconds later when I come to discover that I just enjoyed a nice little ditty from the classicly poser band, DMB. Dave Mattews Band! I thought I was past that! Above that! Towering over and laughing in in the face of that! Apparently I am not. I listened to DMB all throughout high school and as soon as I reached college I turned my back on Dave, as soon as I thought he became too "mainstream" for my highly evolved musical tastes (HA!). Pretended that Dave didn't exist. As if we weren't even FRIENDS. Like we never shared a locker row. My musical infatuation and love was instead placed into the hands of incredibly creative (and in my -potentially high- mind clearly NON-poser) song-writers such as PHISH and String Cheese Incident. Toots and Burning Spear. Soundtribe Sector Nine and the Grateful Dead. Widespread Panic and Phish. (Did I mention Phish?) Phish and (unhappily peer-pressured into) Disco Biscuits. I could no longer bother to be associated with DMB. Under the table and FUCK NO. I discarded the hundreds of bootleg TAPES I had been collecting for years and stored them away in my mothers old trunk that I stickered up and used as a coffee table and covered with a frayed piece of Salvation Army fabric. (TMI?)

And now, 10 years later, I am Remebering a Thing or Two as Dave sings that he will Back ME Up. My music snobbery knows no bounds. For shame.

Foiled Again

2008-01-31T13:33:00.001-06:00

I tried (AGAIN!) to be a responsible adult and watch the GOP debates last night. (FINE! Fiji made me.) I lasted all of three minutes. The main issue wasn't that the candidates frightened me, although there could certainly be an argument for that, and it wasn't that I spent two and a half of those three minutes trying to figure out who was sitting between McCain and Huckabee (it was Ron Paul--what a trooper). No. The guilty party (ha! the irony! or not) was my flipping television. Apparently CNNHD has some sort of time-delay (or our tv is fubar-ed) and I was so incredibly distracted by John McCain's lips (or lack thereof-SORRY) that I gave up after he and Mitt-face argued for(seemingly)ever about the 100 years war in Iraq. UGH. Patience hates me.

p.s. I kinda wish that the democratic party logo was a red-white-and-blue monkey instead of a donkey. Maybe I should write my congressman. Or something. I just LOVE monkeys so much!

Hahahahahahahaha! Ha.

Sweet nectar of the gods = Me

2008-01-30T15:19:00.000-06:00

Coworker2: I've been meaning to ask you, what are you wearing?
Tilly: Uhhh...
Coworker2: I mean, no. That came out wrong. You just always smell SO GOOD.
Tilly: Uhhh...
Coworker2: No, I mean. Gosh.
Tilly: This is weird.
Coworker2: I'm sorry. I just...
Tilly: No, no. I'm kidding. But it is quite interesting because Coworker1 told me that my office smells like booze just this morning.
Coworker2: Ha! That must be it!
Tilly: I mean, I really could use a drink.

Uhh, No comment?

2008-01-30T11:22:00.001-06:00

Coworker: Every time I walk by your office I get a huge whiff of Southern Comfort.
Tilly: Uhhhh...
Coworker: I just thought you should know.

I have no words. It's not even NOON yet.

And then I burnt the whole place down

2008-01-29T16:12:00.000-06:00

No really, I almost did.

All I did was toast my pita bread for my hummus and veggie pita lunch (like I have done on an embarrassing number of times in the past [week]). Just per usual. I thought that I had really solidly grasped the whole "toaster oven" concept over the years with all my pizza bagel making and leftover re-heating. Apparently not. Today I popped the old pita in the toaster over and walked away. No biggie, right. WRONG. 5 minutes later I walk down the hall to retrieve said pita and as I'm approaching I smell smoke. No, no. I think to myself. That can't be MY pita. No way. Not a chance. But my pace starts to quicken until I am full-on sprinting to the kitchen only to be embraced by a tunnel of heavy SMOKE. Like, I could barely see my hands smoke. Like, I can't believe the fire alarm hasn't gone off smoke (which I later begin to obsessively worry about). Like, holy hell this is a LOT of SMOKE smoke! Like, SHIT there goes my lunch smoke.

So, of course, like any other normal individual, I begin flailing my arms about and running in circles and desperately pleading (with myself?) "NO, NO, NO." So when that didn't work, I RUN through the halls in a panic looking for what? I don't know. Help, I suppose. But of course most people are at lunch because they don't INSIST on bringing their lunches every single stinking day. I find one girl who seems nice enough and who I hope won't yell at me and bring her along to witness the mess I've made. She is not impressed and begins coughing. Asthma, she claims. At this point I have created enough raucous with all my running and waving and flailing, oh and also, the smoke is billowing out of the kitchen and into the halls by this point, creating a lovely burnt hair/popcorn stench, so that may have drawn some onlookers in and of itself. "What were you cooking?!" They accuse. "Pita bread. I swear." One yells at me (through the smokey haze) to open a window. "They WON'T OPEN! I already TRIED that!" I exclaim in a panic. We stand amidst the heavy grey cloud and decide to close the door. Yup, THAT'LL fix it.

And now I smell like campfire. But not in the good smores-y way.

Only me, I tell ya. Only me.

Proof Positive: My Genius Abounds

2008-01-28T09:59:00.001-06:00

I never would have imagined how hilariously chaotic early voting would be. But, then again, everything I do seems to be insanely awkward and weird. I guess it's my life's gift. I bring the awk. Anyway, being the responsible, contributing citizens that we are, Fiji and I went to vote early at our local public library. I had no idea the mayhem that was about to greet us. First off, the polling was being run by a clown. And when I say clown I mean a woman dressed in a clown suit (well, at least it looked that way) with wildly misplaced makeup (similar to a clown) and a loud, booming (clown-like) voice. (Unless the clown is a mute. Which in this case, she was not.) In addition, she was having a severe panic attack. I am not joking. Apparently right as we arrived (literally that exact moment--shocker), two of the five (that's 40%) polling computer stations broke down. As in NOT WORKING. She was calling people left and right leaving panic-stricken voicemails about how the lines were OUT OF CONTROL (there were 2 other people besides us) and that all sorts of destruction and havoc was about to ensue (more like awk-ness). She apologized repeatedly for the inconvenience (it really wasn't that big of a deal) and I could feel the tension rising and began to sweat profusely. It didn't help that the creepy guy behind me was talking to himself in a very low-timbred voice. I couldn't quite make-out what he was saying because I was too busy pleading with him (in my head) not to talk to me.

I honestly don't know why it was taking people SO LONG to cast their votes. Seriously. WHAT IS THE HOLD UP??! Did you not prepare your answers prior to making the decision to VOTE EARLY? I mean, you still have some time if you are still not sure. No pressure. Then I had kinda forgotten that we were going to have to choose other elected officials, and not just vote in the presidential primary. Oops. After much deliberation (deciding that I didn't want to get in trouble for leaving questions blank) I chose those who shared my name (in any variation), names of people in my family, my friends, or those who had the coolest sounding names. Good plan, no? As we were leaving, Fiji asked what took me so long. I responded that there were a lot of decisions to (quickly) make. He looked confused. How did you know which ones to choose? Did you research them? I am silent, gradually realizing the folly of my ways. You just chose the best names, didn't you. Yes, yes I did. What of it?!

Anyway, then we decide to rent some Spanish CD's before our trip back to Costa Rica in two weeks. I need to know how to find the restroom and order a beer. (Luckily those are EASY PEASY!) Then the lady yells at me because apparently when I returned a VHS copy of "An Affair to Remember" TWO YEARS AGO, I returned the wrong video in it's case. Whoops. No clue what I returned instead. (Uh oh.) I'm banking on "Cindy Crawford's: Shape Your Body" video. Don't judge. It was awesome.

Kibbles & Bits

2008-01-25T13:13:00.000-06:00

And bits and bits.

1. This morning my spin instructor, previously known as "spin guy" called my name. Which, let's be honest, he's done before but it's a big class and I never know for sure if he's talking to me or not. And hello! He calls out everyone's name. That's just the kind of spin instructor he is. But anyway, back to me. ME. So this morning as I'm signing up I see some bitch has stolen MY bike again. Slut. Anyway, next to her is another "Tilly"--he's been saying HER name. Right then and there my dreams are crushed. Because clearly that's how emotionally stable I am, and also, holy low life dreams. So as we're warming up, spinguy is walking around doing his usual meet and greet and as he is standing directly in front of MY bike, he's all, "Good morning, Tilly." And I'm all "WHAT?! WHO ME?!" Yeah. Can we say highlight of my week slash life?!! (Wow, this really is quite sad.)

2. Since you mentioned spinning, this morning the lady next to me was stretching afterwards and HOLY CRAP she kissed her knee cap. No lie. I couldn't help from staring, because, HELLO FLEXIBLE MUCH, and I'm not a starer. But seriously and for reals? I'm still in shock, as well as quite nauseous.

3. We are OFFICIALLY the SOLE OWNERS of our HOME. ALONE. IT'S OURS. I just want to rush home right now and run laps around every square inch that is OURS. ALL OURS.

4. All the work frustrations (slash crying, but let's not speak of that again shall we) have turned miraculously into work gems, work jewels and work rubies, if you will. And you will because I SAID SO. Anyway, all is well and right with the world once again. (Thank you for the condolences of my lost pride and dignity. She will be dearly missed.)

5. Yesterday I overheard "sir" referring to another coworker as "Miss Katie." WHAT THE FLIP?! I feel so used.

6. It's FRIDAY. Which, as we all know, is the coolest. ("It's cool to pee your pants.") Good year to you all!

Luckily, Each Day is a New One

2008-01-24T15:58:00.001-06:00

You know when you have those days where you just hate everything, like HATE, and then you feel all nasty and yucky because you've got hate seething from all your pores and then you feel just plain awful because really? Seriously? You're really gonna be like that? So after a particularly frustrating phone call you are so frustrated that the frustration and the hate are pouring from your eyes (in the form of tears) so you rush to close your office door so that no coworkers (or worse-BOSS) witness the shame and embarrassment you would feel from CRYING at work. And just that morning you had run out of kleenex (which you clearly never need in the wintertime anyway) and had to blot your eyes with the roughest paper towel (the BROWN kind) in the history of the modern world. And then in your meeting later you are slightly slash distinctly aware that your eyes are probably red and puffy and your skin is blotchy and maybe you are forced to talk the whole time and therefore everyone is looking at you (which you hate) with the hate seaping out that you hope isn't contagious. So you go home and lie on your bed in the dark (after moving the clean and folded clothes over to the side that you were too lazy to put away that morning) and ignore your nice FijiBoy until you can collect your thoughts and not take it out on him (which you kinda do anyway) and then arise from the bedroom and demand sexy time. Do you know anything about that? Anything at all? Because I certainly have no experience with any such issues. Just curious. That's all.

p.s. Today was a good day. (Name that tune!)

You Are Now Two Cents Richer. Or Poorer. Depending...

2008-01-22T11:25:00.001-06:00

I am in no way a political analyst. By any means. Any means at all. But I do have opinions. Strong ones at times. Intense, seething, pointed, direct ones even. Maybe. (That was my disclaimer. Moving on.)

I watched the Democratic Presidential debate last night. The whole thing. All the way through. (Just wanted to point that out.) I am such an adult. (What a shame that I am actually PROUD of myself for watching the PRESIDENTIAL DEBATES. Gee whiz.) I was even nervous as they introduced the candidates to the stage. Why? No clue. Anyway. It's no secret that I love Barack, and it's not because he's from Chicago (WHATUP!), but because I trust him. It's weird, but I do. I actually BELIEVE what he is saying. Which, in my humble (and at times pointless) opinion, is probably one of the most important qualities in a president. Being able to TRUST political leaders--something new and different! To me, Barack stands for unity, social responsibility, moral integrity, hope, and trust. When I hear him speak and see the passion in his eyes, I trust that he would make the RIGHT choice, whether it appeased some lobby in Washington or not. I think he's strong and smart and caring. Also, funny. Don't forget the funny part. VERY important. And more than any political promise that he makes along the campaign trail in this competition for the most important job in the country, I have faith in him. And faith that maybe, just maybe, there is a chance that I could once again be proud to be an American. And stuff.

In conclusion, what was UP with Hillary's lipstick?

Sloth-style Sunday

2008-01-21T12:44:00.001-06:00

"Lazy" undoubtedly fails to describe my day yesterday. In fact, sloth would be much, much more appropriate. Not only did I not leave the house, I rarely left my spot on the couch, except to use the latrine, and switch from one side of the couch to the other, you know, to get a new perspective on the day. We're talking minimal movement here folks. Embarrassingly minimal. As in, when Fiji was walking around, working on various projects around the house like a normal contributor to society and life in general, I was using him as my very own errand boy. But instead of asking him directly to do this or that, I would exclaim, "Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! My toes are FROZEN, frost-bite style!" Prompting him to ask if I wanted my slippers, or the blanket resting a mere 2 feet away. Or if I wanted some Gatorade to help cure my brutal hangover, I would say, "I'm SO thirsty. I'm DYING of thirst." Or if he was, by chance, going into the bedroom I would pronounce, "I really should call my Mom" and stare at him whilst loudly clearing my throat. To which he would respond, "Do you need your phone or something? Perhaps a throat lozenge" I mean, can you BE more obnoxious than that?? I sincerely doubt it. It's a real feat.

Even when our friends came over to watch football, I didn't even rise to greet them (how RUDE), but waved for them to grab a blanket and lie down with me, thus slightly relieving the guilt that had been growing exponentially since 8am when I awoke (I can NOT sleep in for the life of me) and moved from my bed to my couchbed. Finally, after a few hours of this nonsense, I admitted that I was performing an experiment to see how long I could go without removing myself from the couch. I think the final time stamp would be 5 hours. However, after Fiji ventured outside for my hangover cure of goldfish, Gatorade, and ginger ale (the three G's, if you will), I couldn't bare to look at the mess on the coffee table and forced my legs to stand. I even ran the dishwasher and cleaned the kitchen, my biggest accomplishments of the day. And then I graciously rewarded myself by getting in bed at 7pm. True double true.

An update and stuff

2008-01-18T10:43:00.001-06:00

Just so Y'ALL (hi tessie!) don't die of curiosity, here's a quick update:

1. Dude across the street is STILL there, so apparently no firing took place, although, this could be his last day. You know--Friday--less likely to pop a cop and shit like that before the weekend. As if I know.
2. Toothpaste in sink STILL. And AGAIN. When I find the culprit (after staking out the bathroom all day because that wouldn't be awkward or anything), I am going to punch him in the junk. Because you KNOW it's a dude.
3. Dont' know how old "sir" is. Don't care.
4. I'm thinking of sending GoatBoy a congratulations email. Too much? I should probably just go with the old mantra of "leave well enough alone," (or something) or, as I like to refer to it, "FUCK OFF."

In other news, it's like negative bazillion degrees around these parts--nice and toasty. Anyway, I crammed myself onto the train because there was NO WAY I was waiting outside any longer than I had to. So I get on and I'm assuming that since we were squeezed in like cattle, no need to try to position myself next to, IDK, something to hold onto. Great choice. Once we started moving (slash JOLTING this way and that), somehow the crowd parts and I'm stranded with no bodies to awkwardky press up against in order to stand erect (HEYO! And SICK!) and yet unable to find something, anything (inanimate) to steady myself. Therefore, I was forced to channel my snowboarding skills and "ride" to work. I know, I know. LAMO. But it worked (besides the time (or two) I grabbed the guys backpack in front of me). ANYWAY. Good story.

UPDATED UPDATE!!
RE: 1. Apparently I am an idiot and it's "pop a cap" not "pop a cop." How utterly embarrassing. Evidently I am more white girl than even I imagined.

And another nonsensical addition to my devoid of any real importance list: there is a rooster crowing outside my busy-streeted office in the middle of the city. Hypotheses? Because I'm pulling a blank.

Good Year!

You're in my world now, Crest-face

2008-01-17T13:08:00.000-06:00

Despite my new working conditions being a galaxy above and beyond my previous place of employment (HELLO awkward scientists!), there is still some weird slash annoying shit that goes down around these parts. Take, for instance, the globs of blue (totally Crest) toothpaste left in the sink. Yes, the same sink where we wash our hands. Or at least I wash my hands. Dirty birds. Anyway. What I can understand is that some people are fanatical about the brushing of their teeth. Kudos and a golf clap. But is it really THAT hard to rinse out the sink after said brushing and spitting? I think not. Maybe I'm just that crazy lady that can't stand to have toothpaste stains in my OWN sink, at HOME. The one that is mine and mine alone (Feej has his own to muss up). And I still hate when there are stains and therefore I rinse out the sink (water waster!) after spitting. Each and every time. Maybe it's because my grandmother insisted that we WIPE OUT THE SINK after WASHING OUR HANDS. Yeah. True, DOUBLE TRUE! So there would be no water marks. IN THE SINK. Either way, it grosses me out. So, quit that shit. You're in my world now.

Whew! That was exhausting. I can't even expend any more energy complaining about the other inane (and insignificant) things my co-workers do (that no one cares about). But don't you worry your pretty little blerd heads. I could complain in my sleep! I'll just walk out my door and something else will annoy me and I won't be able to focus until I tell everyone I (don't) know about it. PEACE.

Lost Battle, DOMINATION STATION WAR

2008-01-16T14:46:00.001-06:00

I just recently found out that my ex, GoatBoy, is engaged. Woo to the hoo. Really, honestly, and if we're being completely for real and for honest, which clearly we are, I don't care. In so many, many ways, like the important ones, I just don't care. It's not that I wish it was me or that I miss him like that or that I want him to die alone and miserable with his stupid face hair rotting or stuff like that. It's not that at all. It's just that, well, he BEAT me. And THAT my friends, is what bothers me. I'm a sad, pathetic soul, I know. I mean, I like to WIN. A lot. And I'm competitive to the point that the other day Fiji accused (part joking part for serious) me of taking more VITAMINS than him and NOT TELLING HIM because I wanted to be HEALTHIER or something. What!?! That doesn't even make sense. Clearly he is infintely healthier than me, I mean, hello, he doesn't eat meat or dairy. And then there's his penchant for everything organic and green, even SEAWEED. And my penchant for everything cheese and pizza related. So obviously I was not trying to dominate his vitamin-taking self. But, as you can see, even the fact that he thought (slash knew) I was capable of being THAT competitive shows you something about my competitiveness.

Anyway, GoatBoy is engaged to some nice chick and I'm sure they will live a long and happy life together and who the flip cares because HELLO I'm in love too. And just because I don't have a ring on my left ring finger doesn't detract from the commitment and wonderful life that I am currently sharing with the LOVE of my life who I am so incredibly blessed to come home to each and every night and wake up next to each and every morning and who GETS me more than anyone else in the entire world ever has or ever will. Also, when I heard the rumor that GoatBoy was getting engaged, I told Fiji and his first response was, "Do you want to BEAT him?" I think we can all guess what my answer may or may not have been to that. And the fact that he knew what I (selfishly and immaturely) wanted before even I did AND teased me about it, well, I think we all know that I am exactly where I belong and with the man who holds my heart.

Miss Tilly

2008-01-15T14:25:00.001-06:00

So, one of the dudes that I work with calls me "Miss Tilly" all the time, like ALL. THE. TIME. I find it to be simultaneously charming and annoying. Not annoying like the scientists-annoying, mind you, but just-not-quite-right-annoying. If you know what I mean and I think you do (I'm bringing this BACK). At first I thought he was like 22 and just a little gentleman from the south or something. THEN I find out he's from Illinois and has 3 CHILDREN, the oldest of whom is 10. As in 10 years old. With my trusty mathmatician skills I deduced/deducted(?) that he HAS to be at least 26. Right? And he was married before--to his baby's mama--so he may even be 28. Or older! Now, I know what it's like to look young. And yeah yeah blah blah I'll appreciate it when I'm older. Awesome. Super. Fantastic. Now give me the booze. But he could seriously pass for 21 or 31. What gives?! Also, is it completely, totally and utterly rude for me to just come out and ask? Because I will be that girl. Hell, I AM that girl.

She smells like SOUP

2008-01-14T11:09:00.000-06:00

Well, Hellooooooo. I finally joined the throngs (I just typed thongs and laughed outloud--to myself--because I DO NOT WEAR THONGS and I NEVER WILL. I know, I know. I'm barely a woman or something. Just floating on the outskirts here.) of indie movie-goers and saw Juno this weekend. Yes, I loved it. It was delightfully cute and charming and witty and met my expectations, although I was hoping for some more laugh outloud quips. It felt like my fellow movie-goers were as well, as the first few laughs sounded WAY forced and quite awkward like, we're SUPPOSED to be laughing it up, we better start NOW.

Anyway, that is not what I'm here to discuss. I am here to discuss the fact that the woman (the older woman--who looked like a man--who sat down where my coat, Fiji's coat, my scarf, my bag, and my water bottle were happily seated) next to me CRIED the ENTIRE TIME. CRIED. TEARS. And BLEW her NOSE. Not even kidding. It made me want to yak, which, incidentally I also wanted do on our walk to the theatre. Twice. Anyway. She was crying, like boo hoo, throughout the entire movie. While everyone else (all the emotionally stable and sense of humor having people) was LAUGHING. I'm sure Fiji loved the way I analyzed her life over and over and over again and postulated why the bloody hell she was driven to cry. I mean, maybe she was a pregnant teen who gave her child up for adoption 50 years ago and still regrets it. Or maybe she was a pregnant teen who wishes she would have given up her child for adoption 50 years ago. Or maybe she was lonely and went to the movies to cry amongst laughing strangers in the dark.

Either which way you draw it, I realized (by the time we got home) that I should shut up. And then we watched (the beginning of) Ghostbusters and went to sleep. Honest to blog.

Peeping Tilly, but not in the super creepy way.

2008-01-11T11:40:00.001-06:00

I feel very uncomfortable right now. You see, it appears that the man who works in the office directly across the street from mine is getting REAMED. I mean, different people keep bursting into his office and flailing their arms about and then abruptly leaving. And the whole time he just sits staring at his computer, completely disregarding the intrusion. As if no one was even IN his office screaming at him and flinging their extremities around. It's weird. And I just feel all icky inside (which may be attributed to the bottle of wine I drank last night, but your guess is as good as mine). I mean, maybe I am completely misinterpreting the situation that I know nothing about, but that' s highly unlikely. I am very intuitive and I took sign language in third grade. Also, I know quite a bit about social cues and the like, which you may or may not recall. In addition, I am nosy and will not rest until I know the truth! Or go home. Whichever comes first.

Either way, I find it oddly intriguing and I'm strangely perplexed so I've decided to turn my desk around just so I don't miss anything. Ooooh, he just scratched his head. He's probably dying inside!

The One Where I'm No Longer Embarrassed By My Mother. Honest. And For Reals.

2008-01-10T12:20:00.000-06:00

My parents have recently started working out, basically for the first time in both of their lives. This makes me unbelievably happy, as I know what a positive influence exercise can have on ones physical AND mental health. While I've always thought of my parents as healthy and certainly not overweight, I know a big motivation is building strength and improving mobility as they age. I encouraged them to get a personal trainer, at least in the beginning, who could show them how to properly use the equipment and design a workout routine for them to follow. Which they did. Yay me! So while I was home over Christmas, I went to the gym with them, which just so happens to be called, "The Gym." Super secret tricksters, those guys.

It was so fun to watch them meander through the equipment and the bar bells and ask each other "form" questions, as I ran on the treadmill upstairs. My mom even has a cute little matching workout outfit (that she apparently wears each time--"But I have different tops for underneath!")

As my Mom and I were doing bicep curls side-by-side, a "rap*" song came on and she chirps, "You know, I think I like listening to "hip-hop" the best while I'm "pumping iron" (she really said this). It just really PUMPS ME UP!" To which I laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed. I'm so her daughter.

Then as we're leaving and she's walking in front of me and my Dad, she starts dancing as if she has no solid bones in her body (basically wiggling all of her limbs) throughout the weight room. With OTHER people in it. Watching. My Dad turns to me and says, "Well, she's your mother."

And I couldn't have been more proud.

*As long as I've known my Mother, hello, all my life, she has called hip-hop, "rap" and that is all there is to it. Which is why it was so cute.

Worst Message-Leaver Ever

2008-01-08T16:27:00.000-06:00

I couldn't be a worse phone message-leaver. I really couldn't. And now that I am frequently leaving work-related messages on Principal's and police chief's voicemail, the shame and embarrassment from my poor message-leaving skills is exponentially multiplied. But I KEEP doing it! I can't STOP! It's like I continue to hope that the next one will be better, the next one will improve, the next one will be genius! And as soon as I leave another god-awful message, I hang up the phone and shake my hands and wiggle my arms in disgust. The people in the offices across the street must think I have Restless Arm Syndrome or somesuch. It's terrible. And yet, some people call me back. Some people even call me back immediately and pretend that they didn't just receive the worst message left in the history of answering machines/voicemail. Imagine!

I even went so far as to create a message-leaving script. Yes, nerd. I know. But it really helps. Why did I tell you that? IDK. Speaking of tourettes (which is not funny, I know), I saw "p.s. I love you" this weekend and hello tissues! Anyway, one of my favorite parts was Harry Connick Jr.'s so-called "lack of a filter disease." Um, hello! Right over here. Anyway again, Hilary (Skinny-Ass) Swank sang karaoke and then when she finished he came over to her and he was all, "Wow. You are a horrible singer. I would be embarrassed if I were you." HAHAHAHA! Yeah, that was awesome. If he were here to listen to my voicemail messages, I can only imagine he would be saying the same thing.

BURN. DOUBLE BURN.

Train Antics and Stuff

2008-01-07T14:06:00.000-06:00

So, I'm not sure that you can properly experience the hilarity of the above photo, but you'll just have to take my word for it, k? K. Would I lie to you, my blerds? Probably not. Saturday morning the Feej and I decided to take a little voyage downtown and reminisce about where we first began exchanging lovelorn glances slash staring at each other (aka riding the train that we both take EVERY DAY. TWICE. So, yeah, super romantic). Anyway, after Fiji had completed his extensive examination of the progress being made by the train track fixer/builder guys (technical term), aka standing and peering out onto the broken tracks and explaining what re bar (?) is to his naive (who me?) GF, I whined (like I do best), Can we sit DOWN now?! Of course, being the gentleman that he is, he obliged. And then, of course, I went and chose probably the worst seat in the house slash train. For him. Completely unintentionally of course. I'm just that self-centered. And lazy, as it was the closest to our standing location. Wow, this is getting long and completely unnecessarily detailed. So, we are sitting there, and it's one of the sideways facing chairs so we are forced to stare directly across (and luckily no one was sitting there) and were able to get a first-hand, first-rate view of what was perhaps the most intriguing and confusing and hilarious warning sign that I have ever seen in all the years of living my life (slash riding trains). We sat, quite perplexed, for much MUCH longer than two educated, city-dwellers really should. Let me just point out a few things:

A. Listen for Instructions. There appears to be a man HANGING from the passenger's ear. Or something. [Inner dialogue: Hmm...that's weird. Why is that miniature worker man hanging there?] So I glance to the next "instruction."

B. Remain on the train. Do not open side doors. Ok. Makes sense. What does NOT make sense, however, is that man TEARING APART the other man?! Um, what?! WHA! [Inner dialogue: I'm kind of scared.] Fiji, just as perplexed as I am, adds, "I mean, if I didn't know English, I'm not so sure that I would follow these instructions." Uhh, you think?!! Let's move on.

C. Move to another car if your immediate safety is threatened. BECAUSE SOME MAN IS LIFTING UP THE TRAIN AND BREAKING IT INTO PIECES? You mean that?! Well, geez, thanks for the advice there! Really, honest. LIFE SAVING information there.

At this point Fiji geniusly (this is not a word but IDC) determines that these "train instructions" are in fact STICKERS. (We might have been clued in to the fact that the bottom two "pictures" were torn off. Hmmmm.) Someone playing a little practical joke on us. HA.HA.HA. Actually, I laughed quite loudly and obnoxiously and then proceeded to take like a bajillion pictures on my phone. Which I am now too lazy to send to my email and post. Maybe later. Then you can REALLY see. For some reason after all of this I get the strange sensation that NO ONE CARES BUT ME. I don't think Fiji even thought it was that strange/cool/awesome.

Whatever. Then later in the day Fiji sawed (is that a word?) our couch in half in order to get it out of the house and then we got trapped in the elevator and rescued by a 7' tall fireman (they even turned the sirens on for us).

The end.

How was your weekend?!

UPDATE: I forgot to mention that on my way to work this morning I rode on the very SAME train in the very SAME car and saw the stickers. AGAIN. Yep. So that happened. But this time I couldn't stare freely seeing that the train was super packed (SHOCKING) and there were people sitting in the seats and if I had stared any longer they would've probably gotten kinda creeped out. And if there's one thing I'm not, it is a CREEP.

Also, here are some close-ups. ENJOY! Please. I said PLEASE.

True story.

Loving thy Neighbor (is HARD)

2008-01-04T11:47:00.001-06:00

With Day 4 of the new year upon me, I'm feeling contemplative and thankful. There are many resolutions that I could make to continue to "better" myself and improve my life and the way I live it, but I'm just not a resolution-making kinda girl. Sue me. (No, don't. I'm on a budget.) I think I set various goals for myself throughout the year, although I don't always verbalize them or even fully conceptualize them in my head. Or fulfill them, for that matter. However. I have just started reading "A Year of Living Biblically" and it's already (page 17 deep) made me think. Especially about the "Love thy neighbor" thing. I mean, I need to be doing more of that. STAT. I already think I'm pretty considerate about letting people on the train before me, but that's pretty much because I'm getting off first and want to stand by the door anyway (hello short-ass commute!). But that means that I like to get OFF the train first. What? I am a fast walker. Honest, I am. There's nothing worse than getting behind the oldest lady ever (like, why (and HOW) is she even still riding the train!?) who is carrying like a million and two bags who has to rush to get off first and then hold the railing on the stairwell and take up the whole thing. So, yeah. I'd say loving my neighbor should maybe move up higher on the list of things to do. But hey, I'm trying!

Then there's the downstairs neighbors that refuse to park INSIDE THE LINES of THEIR spot. Seriously. Like, they are physically (or mentally) unable to park correctly. And you know what this means? It means I can barely get OUT of the car. I mean, the garage is small and everything, but COME ON. And if there's bags or groceries or BEER in the back seat that maybe, just MAYBE, needs to be collected and brought upstairs (you know to DRINK ), I need to get OUT and be carrying stuff and those little bitches prevent me from doing so in a typical manner, say, opening the door and retrieving said things. ANYWAY. I mean, I'm not bitter or anything. What I'm trying to say is that while I cannot control their (horrible) parking, I can control my (rage) reaction to it and I can also control the wearing of my clippy (slash noisy) spin shoes around the house at 5:45am. So, my point is, one of my (many, many) non-resolutions/ goals of this year is to love my neighbors. (Not in the SICK way, geez).

Blissfully Blissness

2008-01-03T12:24:00.000-06:00

That's pretty much what's been going on in my world. Blissness. Despite being excrutiatingly tired, not working out since Monday (where I had to create my OWN spin class since the class I tried to attend was completely FULL, bring on the New Years Resolutionites...NOT), seeing so many other blog-ladies experiencing such shithead boy stuff, not eating anything remotely home-cooked since Friday, and therefore my stomach being all crabby, and missing Gossip Girl last night, I can't stop smiling and giggling and daydreaming and lalalala-ing all over the place. It's kinda sick, I know. But it's just, I'm STILL in love. And each and every day it seems that I'm about to explode with all this love-ness. And as Fiji pointed out last night, "this is the third year we are sharing. How many more do you think we've got? 100??" And I was all, "I'm not that great at math, but wouldn't that make us like 130?" And he's all, "Yes." And I'm all, "well then, pass those life preserving vitamins!" And then you're all, "Uhhh, thanks for sharing pinhead weasels." And I'm all, "Sorry. I can't help it." And now I've officially crossed the crazy line that I've been teetering at for the majority of my life. Awesome.

ANYWAY. My Christmas was fantabulous and peaceful and reinvigorating. My NYE was spectacular and sparkly and snowy and amazing. But it's the simple things, the so-called uneventful things, the walking down the street holding hands with the love of my life things that make me practically die of joy. I mean, I could DIE. And if he was with me, I'd smile in delight.

Best Way to Start the New Year!

2008-01-02T11:13:00.000-06:00

Happy 2008! This is going to be an amazing year. I can feel it.

2007-12-20T13:08:00.001-06:00

Every day the first floor atrium is packed. Chock full of asians, awaiting their tasty fried rice or lo mein or wontons. They've got some special deal with a local Chinese restaurant. There is a password (PASSWORD!) in order to place an order. But that is neither here nor anywhere. What I want to know is how the holy hell are the asians so flipping thin if they eat that shit each and every day? Also, what in the WORLD are they SAYING?!

Work Parties and Sick Babies...What are they good for?

2007-12-19T11:53:00.001-06:00

Our holiday party is about to begin. Ooooh. A LUNCH Holiday party. As in, there will be no booze. As in, how CRUEL. Therefore I'm busily type type typing away as to appear too busy to attend quite yet. I wonder how much time this will buy me. I'm also confused because a group of older ladies just walked by (were they invited?) discussing how this office used to be a pediatrician's office. Huh? There were sick babies in here? Uhhhhhhh?

Oh, and speaking of sick babies, babies cough a lot. Like, they have the croup for 2-7 years of their life. We were at Fiji's holiday work party on Monday night (which was a REAL dinner with REAL booze and everything!) and there were like 1 million babies there. Well, more like a human baby per each human adult. (Not sure why I had to point out the human-ness, but whatever.) And they were all crawling around on the floor and running in circles and stuff. It was like a whole small secret society for short people. And then this one girl kept going around kissing the boys. She was one. Playa!

Oh no. I think I'm being summoned. Craptastic.

2007-12-19T11:27:00.000-06:00

Did you know that you can watch episodes of the best show ever (aka "My So-Called Life") on abc.com?? Didjya? Because you can. Soooo...get to it. Last night I watched the one where Jordan Catalano randomly kisses Angela in his car and then basically kicks her out. Awesome to the max.

Wow I'm lame.

Crabby Appleton

2007-12-18T11:04:00.000-06:00

I am so crabby I want to punch myself in the face.
Today I am sad for every reason and no reason at all.
I feel like growling at every person and every (possibly inanimate) thing I see.

You've been warned. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

UPDATE: I smiled and something inside of me breathed a new breath. Phew. That was getting ugly.

I'm not sure what happened here, but, well, we're going with it.

2007-12-14T16:17:00.000-06:00

Without relinquishing my anonymity (hahaha, like anyone cares!), part of my new job is calling schools and police departments. Anyway. My point is this:

Does anyone else find it somewhat amusing and perhaps slightly odd that while I was just on-hold with one particular police department, the song playing was "Box of Rain" by the Grateful Dead (a song I actually quite enjoy, or at least used to)? No? Ok then.

Does anyone else find it amusing and perhaps slightly awesome that while I was spelling my last name (which is the other part of my potential lost anonymity-the horror!) --which I happen to have to spell out quite frequently because otherwise people think I'm not wearing any clothes--and at the end part I'm all, "F.F. like French FRY" and the lady laughed kind of hysterically about it and carried on and on like maybe she was quite possibly craving some french fries herself for some particular reason (hint hint nudge nudge) if you are picking up what I'm throwing down slash catching my drift slash she was stoned out of her gourd? No? OK THEN. BYE. SEE YOU LATER. WHO NEEDS YOU. I've seen those finger-paintings that you bring home and they STINK.

Sorry. Whoa. That just got out of control.

Good year.

The Little Pink Riddler, or Another Awk Worklife for Me

2007-12-13T16:28:00.000-06:00

Well, I finally experienced my first awk work encounter at my new non-awk work place. I guess it even happens with socially-adjusted people. Who knew? But at least here people make EYE CONTACT and speak in common languages and use words I can comprehend. Also, they have senses of humor and I laughed (outloud) more than once! I mean, the cake (for 4 people--3 of those being dudes) was a Barbie cake! It had hot pink and purple frosting! AND there was a plastic pink mini diary (with lock & key) that the boys were fighting over. (I kind of wanted it, but I'm new. I didn't want to be the new selfish hoarding bitch just yet.) There were a few looooooong moments of silence where we all just stood around staring at each other. That was fun. (During which I desperately tried not to laugh--man that was hard! Put me in awkward silence situation and dare me not to laugh or break it by saying, "OK. THAT was weird." Really, I'll do it.) There's just something so uncomfortable about the standing. I wish we could just sit down already. There were plenty of chairs! Plus standing while eating cake is hard. Not that I would know since I was totally the lame lady that refused the free pink cake. But I had just eaten! I hate being socially pressured to eat! Especially at work and especially bright pink cake. In our staff meeting afterwards I was continually distracted by everyone's pink teeth, lips, and tongue. I'm talking BRIGHT pink. It took me a while to figure out why they ALL had the pinkness, but after a little detective work, I put two and two together and solved that little pink riddle.

Anyway, enough of that. Phewwww! I made it. And just in time for the holiday party and secret santa exchange next week. I can hardly wait.

PUPPIESSSSSSSSS!

2007-12-11T15:22:00.000-06:00

I want one. No, scratch that, I want TWO. A brother and a sister. And then they can love each other and play with each other and keep each other company all day. But living in the city without a yard (the roofdeck unfortunately doesn't really suffice) and a smaller living space is not very conducive to dog-ownership. Now, don't get me wrong, there are TONS of people doing it (and doing and doing it well), but we are trying to be very conscientious about the choice that we make and for it to be a choice that not only pleases us (PUPPIES! YAY!) but will be a warm and loving and healthy and attentive and fun-filled life for the puppies. With that being said, we will soon be acquiring more living space (Yesssssss) and since I work SO close to home now I could feasibly go home and take them out and hang out with them for extra long in the morning and at lunch and I could be home earlier than Fiji. SO. PUPPIES! Needless to say I have begun spending my lunch hour sitting at my desk researching PUPPIES in the area and HOLY CUTENESS. I mean, for reals. Now, this is where the problem comes in...I want them. Like NOW. And well, I can't have them NOW. So there's that. And it may be slightly unhealthy that I am developing attachments to pictures of PUPPIES on the internets. Maybe?

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is SEND ME PUPPIES! Please.

Pretty Tree

2007-12-10T09:22:00.000-06:00

Christmas is my lover. Wait, wait. That's just wrong. I just love Christmas, like, a lot. And I just want to snuggle with it. And since it is more of a season and less of, say, an animate object, the closest I get is the tree. I love our tree. LOVE. And so I thought I'd share it will all you blerds. And it's so lovely and wonderful that we put it on the balcony since we're all in the Christmas spirit and sharing and stuff. What's ours is yours. Well, more accurately, our tree is your tree. Well, actually, our tree is our tree, but you can enjoy it by LOOKING at it. No touch. My favorite part is the glittery (crooked) star on top. (Which is kinda cut off. Sorry!) Prettyness!!

(Look! It's snowing!)

(This is inside looking out! Still pretty!)

(this is UP CLOSE. Look at that SNOW! You could just eat it! Well, I could.)

2007-12-07T09:50:00.001-06:00

The cold winter morning dries my sore, swollen eyes; my eyelids blotchy. The salty tears provide none of the needed moisture, only further distort my vision. It's days like these that force me to question who I really am. The dichotomy of who I think I am and who others believe me to be. I feel lost, but, yet, simultaneously at home in my outcastness. I've always felt this, I think. At least that's how I remember myself. Almost how I define myself at times, if it suits the moment. I've consistently and almost cyclically floated between groups, between friendships, between lives. But all this motion has started to catch up with me. And I would really like to nestle in somewhere cozy and perhaps stay a while.

Annnnnnnnnnnnd...I'm officially embarrassed

2007-12-03T16:18:00.001-06:00

Now that my train ride is like 2.2 seconds in the morning, give or take, I have some free time on my hands. And since my swipecard isn't working yet, I can't get into the building after-hours (or in my case before-hours) and since I slept in like a sloth this morning instead of going to the gym, I had over an hour before I had to leave for work. All of these issues merged and I was forced to watch E! True Hollywood Story. On the Simpsons. And not the cool cartoon ones. The other ones. And if we're being honest, and by "we" I mean "me," I actually sorta kinda started to sympathize with them. All of them. Even creepy-manager-boob-loving Dad Simpson. Now, granted, I only watched about 20 minutes of it while making my lunch and brushing my teeth, etc., but it happened. I started to feel the empathic reaction building in my gut. And you want to know why? Because Jessica was DENIED admittance into the Mickey Mouse Club. Yeah. Apparently she had to audition immediately after Christina Aguilera. I mean, come on. Xtina? She's a genie and shit. (Sidenote: she's apparently posing preggo nude, which I think is HUGELY different than regular nude posing. You are SUPPOSED to be fatty mcgee when you're preggs.) So wah wah Jessica didn't make it and missed out on becoming frenemies with Christina and Britney or making out with Justin (which is truly a sad, sad result. I think you'd agree Julie). And then she went and fell in love with Nick and then she went and fucked it all up in a major way and started slutting herself out. Wah. And there's there pooooooor little Ashlee (who I actually like...I know, weird) who was always in Jessica's (breasts) shadow who used to try to get attention by playing guitar naked in front of company and getting nose jobs and dating guys who wear make-up and stuff.

Anyway, I can't believe that I just had this much to write about the Simpsons. If I can learn all that in less than 20 minutes, imagine what I learned from watching two episodes of that Kardashian show. But that's another tale for another time.

Top 5 Things You Do Not Need to Know

2007-11-29T12:48:00.000-06:00

Hello my little blogettes. How's it? Good, good. Now onto me.

I started my new job and it is approximately a gazillion times better than the awk scientists. Also, it's about a gazillion times closer. As in a 10-15 minute commute. Awesome to the maximillion. Also, I still have a window that now looks out onto the street and grocery store and the busholes. Which is nice.

Many-a-things have happened these last few weeks. I am sure you are all so curious you could pass out, but my new job is actually important and stuff, so I must make it quick; therefore a list it is:

1. I cooked my first turkey and it was the most perfectest turkey alive/dead. I have a picture I will post sometime later. Also, it was kind of disturbing pulling out bags of yuck and stuffing it with, well, stuffing. But DAMN it was good.
2. I got some sweet wrist warmers in Denver with no fingers, but they have buttons on them and I love them. They are pretty. And I often catch people coveting them. That or pondering their own existence. I surround myself with some serious philosophizers and existentialists. No joke.
3. I saw Feist. And, so sad to say, I was disappointed. It may have been the venue (large, loud bar area), it may have been the American Apparell ad dancing around me, it may have been the gay guys hitting on PhotoFace. IDK (my BFF Rose). But, I think we left early. For shame.
4. After Feist I went to a "hippie" bar/club/music venue and danced my face off to a Grateful Dead cover band, then went to a hip-hop club and danced my face off until 5am, and then died. No, no. Not really. But the next day I thought I might. Like, there was a real chance of death. A real possibility. But nope. Here I am.
5. Speaking of dying, as I was showering this morning, I contemplated what would happen to this here blog if I died and how you guys would find out and what would happen. Conclusion: Nothing. The end.

Goodbye Awkfaces

2007-11-16T10:38:00.000-06:00

Hi. I am drunk. At work. In the morning. As in, still drunk from last night. It's weird.

Also, it's my LAST DAY! Hell of a way to peace out.

In place of dinner last night I drank three vodka tonics. Genius.

I woke up this morning confused. I am still not sure how I got here.

But, yeah, LAST DAY!

Yesterday was my farewell party. Awk squared times a million. The scientists WATCHED me READ my card. So that happened.

Oh no. I think I just got hungover.

T-3

2007-11-14T09:37:00.000-06:00

And counting.

Yesterday was one of those days. You know, those ones. I'd rather not go into it. Let's just say that by the time my 3:00 meeting rolled around I was delirious. They thought I was speaking in tongues.

But today, today is MY day. I am declaring it so. On my unseasonably warm ride to the gym this morning, the leaves were gently falling around me and my tires were crisply crunching them below. My gym classes were damn near impossible, but I loved it. My calves and triceps may cry tomorrow, but today, today they're energized. Along with my spirit.

Yesterday I felt my soul being crushed, and at the end of the day I had to bite my lip not to cry into my skunky Fat Tire beer. So I went home and had a glass of delicious red wine, filled up on pretzels, and finished my book. All I wanted was yesterday to end.

And it did.

And here I am. Today. Brand new. And I refuse to let them break me.

(Also, my shirt smells so clean and fresh! I'm hugging myself into oblivion! Awesome to the max!)

Washer/Dryer Installation Olympics Anyone? I got a guy.

2007-11-08T15:33:00.000-06:00

I went home early from work yesterday (after getting there several--as in a lotta-- minutes before 8am! I don't even know who I AM.) so that I could go home and be there and over 18 years of age when our NEW washer/dryer was delivered. Of course they arrive just a minute before the time window closed. Bygones. CLEAN CLOTHES!

Anyway, after the installer guy was finished he informed me that this was the toughest installation ever. EVER. And then he continued to go on and on and ON about WHY (in precise detail, as precise as washer/dryer installation detail can get I presume) this job was so hard. Which to me sounded a lot like "blah blah 450 lbs blah blah don't move it ever blah blah blah." I was slightly frightened and I wasn't really sure what I was supposed to say, so I just kept saying THANK YOU, louder and louder each time just so he really FELT how thankful I truly was. Which was a lot. I thank you. Fiji thanks you. Our CLOTHES thank you. Our overflowing closet thanks you. Then he goes on to inform me (and I am really not kidding here folks) that if there was an Olympics for washer delivery, he would win. FOR SURE. Like, the gold medal and everything. So, I congratulated him?

Then he asked if the Chinese place downstairs was any good.

Good times.