The Blonde Recluse

Holy Shit, Has it been this long?

2009-01-17T19:32:00.001-06:00

I'm Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!

So far away....

2007-11-27T06:44:00.000-06:00

So, I am moving.

To a big city that is not the small town that I have lived in practically my entire life.

I am scared shit-less.

I have chosen to move immediately after I finish classes. This was probably one of my more ridiculous ideas. I do get to paint my apartment though. Paint is good.

Icky "what if's" creep into my head and I can't stop worrying that I'll end up scared and alone in a big city all by my lonesome. You know, ALONE. Am I conveying my codependency to you? AM I??? ALONE. ALL ALONE.

I have to keep reminding myself that the proverbial move to the big city after college is practically a mandatory experience for young career women.

Mary Tyler Moore did it.

Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.

2007-11-23T16:26:00.000-06:00

I am alive. It's been a long time. I fully recognize that in the world of blogs, "absent" equals "bad" and I really could have written, really should have written, really wish that I had written, but until today I simply didn't have the strength.

I'm Back. Again. And hopefully not for the last time.

Thanksgiving was yesterday. I would be lying my pants off if I claimed that I did not have more to be thankful for than any human being rightly deserves. I thought I would mark my entrance back into the blogosphere with a list of the things that I am the most thankful for. In no particular order,

Reasons The Blond Recluse Has to Be Thankful:
1. She graduates from college in December.
2.Her entire family is healthy and happy.
3. A very good looking, smart, funny, loving boy is watching football in her living room.
4. The boy in the living room loves her.
5. Her dog.
6. Her blog.
7. Her new camera.
8. Wine.
9. She quit smoking.

Short but sweet. There are literally thousands more reasons for me to be thankful, but I must trot off to the wine emporium to purchase tonight's beverage of choice. It's good to be back.

Do your eyes hurt? Because they're killing me.

2007-08-16T10:53:00.000-05:00

Y'all. I have a cyst on my EYEBALL. Well, sort of. I don't really know if it's classified as a "cyst" per say, but it is a clear, fluid filled, something icky resting on my poor right eye. I am a little freaked out about this. Said freaked-ness can be illustrated in following conversation that I had with my dad, the lung doctor. Disclaimer: I may have the slightest flair for the dramatic.

Me: I HAVE A TUMOR ON MY EYEBALL.

Dad: Riiiiiiight. Like the pulmonary embolism you had in July that turned out to be heartburn?

Me: NO. This time it's serious. I don't want to freak you out or anything, BUT MY EYE IS EXPLODING.

Dad: Pulmonary embolisms aren't exactly fodder for comic relief.

Me: No. My eye is STINGING. AND with the lumpy ness and the clear ball that is on my EYE.

Dad: Right. Well, come on up to the office and we'll have a look. But hey, run to Starbucks and get me one of those latte things first.

Me: Sigh.

So, I went. And he looked. And he asked me if I'd quit wearing the three hundred dollar sunglasses he and my mother had given me for Christmas because it appears that my eyes??? Have been damaged by the sun!!!!!! EEEEK! So, the eye doctor was called all "beep beep stat." But he was in surgery. So I'm back home, waiting to hear what exactly is the matter with my eyeball. Trying not to freak out........a lot.

"I like you. Now watch this die"

2007-08-05T10:59:00.000-05:00

So. I'm dating someone New. And this has been Fun.

Also, stressful.

Mainly because things over here have been pretty busy.

OK, that isn't entirely true.

But yes with the funness and dating and also, he brings me flowers. I am sort of torn on this issue. It is so depressing to watch a symbol of some one's feelings for you turn brown and start to smell, but they're gorgeous while they last and it's such a nice gesture.

Moving on, it's been Shark Week on the Discovery Channel and I've had exams which has resulted in a conflict of interest of sorts. Forgo my love of shark facts and ace my exams OR slide by with minimal studying and spend the week with my ass fused to the sofa, eating diet pizza and soaking in as much shark related material as is humanly possible.

I'll let you guess which one I picked.

Lets just hope I don't fail out of school.

old greg

2007-08-01T11:05:00.001-05:00

Hello

2007-08-01T10:53:00.000-05:00

Its finals week for summer term. In my attempt to procrastinate as much as possible I'm catching up on....well...anything that doesn't involve statistics or paleolithic cave drawings. Blogging falls into that category. So, in one of my last entrys I entertained the idea of a photo essay situation....that was before my camera was unceremoniously thrown down a sewer by my brother. Who should sleep with one eye open for a while.

The Long and Winding Road

2007-07-18T08:26:00.000-05:00

SO, I’m writing this on my way to this thing I have to do that required me to
a) wake up at 4:00 this morning and
b) ride in the car with my mother for twelve hours.

I am not a happy camper right now.

Also, Montgomery Alabama smells like feet . It is incredibly nauseating. We are currently stuck in traffic and listening to quite possibly the worst radio station in the history of the world. I know this because they have played a stream of music so offensive to the ears that even my mother commented “dear goodness where did these people acquire their taste” which is really saying something. My mothers music taste includes KAREN CARPENTER people. Echk.

Anyway, so yes with the traveling and the boredom and the traffic. Also, today is the first day it’s been sunny in like, a week. I really really wanted to get some sun but as I am trapped in this sardine tin on wheels, it looks like I’ll be purchasing my makeup in the shade “near death” for a while now.

In case you haven’t noticed, today it’s all about angst. Lots and lots of angst. Also: the smell of feet. Which, no lie, may make me retch. Other fun trinkets include, a trip to the IMAX to see Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix…..which in theory sounds marvelous but in actuality was a neck breaking, nausea inducing window into hell. I will explain this sentence more effectively in a list of greivances that start now.
1. The dome is way to close to your face. If you have ever been to an IMAX, you know what I’m talking about. It feels like you could be having a really great viewing experience if only you were twenty feet away from the screen, it’s the adult equivalent of sitting RIGHTINFRONT of the tv, the manner of an eight year old except this time you get a headache.
2.YOU MAY NOT LEAVE THE THEATRE FOR ANY REASON WHATSOEVER WE DO NOT CARE IF YOU ARE MID-ANEURYSM, WE ARE SORRY. This includes bathroom trips. This makes eighty ounces of diet coke and a freakin’ Harry Potter epic a BAD COMBINATION, PEOPLE.
3. One ticket is ten dollars. TEN DOLLARS.
4. Because of previously discussed proximity to the screen, your eyes can only focus on a tiny portion of it, preventing the ultimate movie viewing experience.
5. You’re eyes will bleed from being stretched so widely.
6. BLEED!
Oh well. So, the NEW book is coming out FRIDAY and I'm not going to lie, I am really excited. I would post all of my theories about the plot but I think that might be taking things a little too far. Right now I'm just refusing to expose myself to ANY news outlets that might think it was oh, I dunno, FUN to tell people spoilers that they have waited LIKE TEN YEARS to know.

Aside from loathing this car trip and being really inappropriately excited about a children’s book, not much is going on. I'm thinking a picture blog might be fun for a while....I'll take some shots today and we'll see what happens.

Hiatus, Interrupted.

2007-06-26T21:39:00.000-05:00

To an outsider, it would appear that I am a person who accomplishes things in a one-step-ahead fashion. To the trained eye, it is evident that I am a person with a running list of priorities that are shifted in the manner of rapid machine gun fire. One thing always outranks another, and lately my little adventures in blogging have been shuffled to the back burner.

Since my last post I have...
Completed a semesters worth of Theater Appreciation (I made an A, whoo hoo).
Been on four semi-intoxicated, highly-successful dates with someone who is neither an axe murderer nor a drain on society.
Broken three cell phones.
Purchased four cell phones.
Figured out how to change a tire.
Attended a baby shower, three birthday parties and several wedding themed events.
Started exercising.
Figured out how to jump start my car, with no help from a man.

and a bunch of other things I can't think of right now....

Nevertheless, I am back. In my usual non-full, probably-more-like-weak force.

Exciting, right?

I thought so.

So, not much new worth going into. It's blazing hot outside and I've taken to wearing those awful jersey material, garbage bag look-a-like dresses that are about the only things that don't make me feel like I'm going to burst into flames the moment I stride onto the frying pan that is my front porch from the ice chest that is my house. A la this. Also, Lilly Pulitzer. Lots of Lilly Pulitzer. My friends hate it....in fact I believe an exact phrase uttered by Macy was "dear GOODNESS, you're blinding me with your floral abomination. WE ARE NOT IN STEPFORD."

Screw Macy.

But seriously, is it heinous? I need some outside input.

At the risk of turning this into a shopping blog, I'm going to stop now. Rest assured, there is an entry in the works involving a box of wine and a box of throwing stars which should entertain EVERYONE.

xx,
me

Orlando Bloom is beautiful and that's really all I have to say.

2007-05-30T20:29:00.000-05:00

SO, it has been a little while.

Mainly because every time I started to update I shut my self out of my own blog with the depressing diatribe that was my birthday post. Y'all, I needed a bottle of scotch and an industrial sized Prozac.

What's ever sadder is that I actually had a quite nice birthday...complete with flaming shots and dancing on tables and spending ungodly amounts of money on hamburgers at 4 a.m. that no one ate. Also, I had a pretty blue party dress that made me look extra special and shiny. Then I had work....what with the slinging of the coffee and the selling of books.....and summer school....with the taking of notes and the urge to stab myself with my pencil to make sure I can still feel pain....and well, that's about it. Aside from my new obsession with Orlando Bloom (ya'll....he is smokin' hot with a bandanna tied around his dark curly hair at the end of Pirates... but I won't get into that, or the life sized cutout I've taken to carry around with me wherever I go....ha....ummm, just kidding-----or am I??)not much is going on.

I didn't turn 22 and automatically gain a sense of perspective or direction or anything that surpassed the feeling one gets from swirling around in a giant teacup and a desire to make out with someone. That sickly "I hope I don't fail at life" feeling is still lurking in the pit of my stomach and every time I'm at a cocktail party for an friend who happens to be graduating from law school or getting married or being knighted by fricken Queen Elizabeth I hear the words, "what are your plans" and want to shove my head in the blender and add a special red tint to every one's margaritas, instead I end up downing another glass of Chardonnay and staying away from anyone who has ever uttered the words "five year plan." But things are OK....and I should learn to be content with that.

Happy Birthday.,

2007-05-10T21:59:00.000-05:00

I will turn twenty-two in exactly two hours and fifteen minutes.

I haven't stopped crying since around eight.

The fact that I can even type this out with any remote efficiency is, quite frankly, magnificent, and something that deserves commendation.....a word that is oddly similar to condemnation.

I'm engaging in a sort of stream-of-consciousness typing that is ridiculously difficult to express and even more ridiculous to read. I have an undying urge to insert an "anyway" that leads off into a paragraph of seemingly coherent, informative garble that gives cause to the writing of this post in the first place but I know that that would be the equivalent of using a piece of gum to patch a whole in the Hoover Dam.

All I can think of is...

" my mother was 22 when she was engaged..."

" my father was 22 when he was accepted into medical school....and asked my mother to marry him"

"when my favorite aunt was 22, she was living in New York....by herself....chasing her dreams"

"my grandparents considered themselves middle aged at 22"

"the probability of me sucking at life is increasing on an hourly basis"

"I AM 22, FINANCIALLY AND EMOTIONALLY DEPENDANT ON MY PARENTS AND COMPLETELY VOID OF ANY REDEEMING QUALITIES THAT COULD POSSIBLY LAND ME:

A) a place at a decent grad school (Med, Law, Underwater Basket Weaving, ETC.)
B) a boyfriend
C) a job that pays more than $5.50 an hour.

bring me vodka.

NOW.

Wine and Worry

2007-05-02T14:54:00.000-05:00

Finals are over and I have a few days before I go back to slinging coffee for minimum wage.

I really hate my summer job.

I work at a book store/ coffee shop where I spend most of my time making cappuccinos for people who order lattes and switching out the decaf with the regular. I know it seems petty but if you worked there for ONE DAY you would totally understand. So, yea...aside from the morning rush for coffee and the lunch rush for sandwiches I get to read whatever I like, it's really not that bad of a situation. Anyway, so today I cleared all of the weeds out of my flower beds and then decided that it would be ok if I opened the wine at 2:30. I don't know what's gotten into me but lately I have really loved having a glass or three of wine in the middle of the day lately.....then cooking dinner and going to sleep.

Oh God, I am an eighty year old woman trapped in the body of a twenty one (soon to be twenty two) year old. Pass the polygrip.

Other than dreading the start of my summer job, nothing exciting has been happening, just wanted to update to say that I'm thinking of switching from pinot noir to syrah.......

I gave the dog a bath, he smells a lot better.

2007-04-30T14:02:00.000-05:00

I got sick of the black background, it was kind of depressing.

SO, today was my final in Ethics. The thing about the last day you'll be in a class is that people who haven't talked the ENTIRE semester will engage you in conversation.

I guess they figure they'll never see you again so what the hell, right? Anyway, the same guy has sat right next to me for the entire semester and has never said ONE word. No "hey" or "can I borrow a pen" or anything. So today, I walk into class and sit down and skim my notes for the final and the silent guy starts talking to me!

It was insanity, I didn't know that he COULD talk.

It was a pretty normal conversation, but looking back I think he was asking me on a date. Ya'll. I am SO BAD at picking up on stuff like that. He probably thought I was being mean, really I was just being an idiot. You tell me....

Silent Guy (heretofore known as SG): You ready for the test?

Me: I'm probably not as prepared as I should be, are you?

SG: Yea, I feel pretty good about it. I'm sure you'll do fine, you take really good notes.

*****editors note : apparently he has been observing my note taking...it is a little obsessive....lots of color coding and extremely thorough.

Me: Oh, um...yea I guess.

SG: So, have you got more finals?

Me: Yea, one tomorrow, I'm going to try to spend the rest of today at the library (*editors note: It's 2:15 and I'm already on my second glass of wine. See how well THAT plan went)

SG: Oh, well, me too, I finish tomorrow too. What are you doing this weekend?

Me: I don't know,....I might go to the river.....I haven't decided yet.

SG: Oh, well I have tickets to a concert on Saturday and I don't have anyone to go with me.

Me: Well, good luck finding someone!

*then the professor walked in and the test began.

and, scene.

Yea, he totally wanted me to go to that concert. Damnit. I'm a moron. He seemed nice, too....not at all "it puts the lotion in its skin or else it gets the hose again."

I fucking hate writing papers, the dog smells like rotting flesh.

2007-04-25T18:29:00.000-05:00

SO, a dove has built its nest inside my front porch. I have this thing about leaving the front porch light on at all times but now I am freaking out. What if the light makes the dove think it's day time and it somehow messes her up? I would feel TERRIBLE if she went berserk because she thought it was ALWAYS daylight and murdered her eggs.

I actually spent the night at my parents house last night so the dove could have a night away from the light. How f'd is that?

We have previously discussed my psycho mother. Well, she has decided that the dove situation is a good omen. That "doves don't build their nests just anywhere, you are special." I think she has finally come to the realization that she is the mother of a child who is, in fact, not special. She is now grabbing for anything that she can to assure herself that I do not suck at life.

She gets it honestly. Last week, I caught my grandmother telling one of her friends that I would probably be engaged by December.

People, I'm not dating anyone. What is she talking about?

Who the fuck does that? And why am I still living in such close vicinity to them? More importantly, why can't I stop using rhetorical questions? TELL ME.

I think this whole dove/familial disappointment obsession has more to do with stress over other matters that is somehow infecting my ability to reason. I've been working on a fifteen page paper on language use and sentience and it is just really getting to me. I feel like someone stuck a vacuum up to my ear and sucked everything out. I just want to sit on the couch and watch Paris Hilton milk cows or something equally irrelevant.

I have not bathed my dog in a month. He is excreting an odor so offensive that if you are closer than three feet to him, you will retch. I'm going to drink two bottles of wine and scrub the stench off the dog tonight. Fun times.

My "things to do" list keeps expanding....I have four dresses in my car, absorbing the car stank because I have to get them altered. By altered, I mean: reduced from the size of a circus tent to that of a dress. HI! I was fat last summer. If there's one thing I've learned in college, its that you cannot drink beer and eat pizza and burgers and not expect to blow up. It took three years to realize this and one year to get the past three years weight off.

Also, there are bills to pay and groceries to buy and all the other grown up shit that I hate doing. I know this is all of the utmost interest to you. Hopefully I'll be more entertaining after exams, .....but I wouldn't raise my expectations if I were you.

Passover Coke.

2007-04-01T21:09:00.000-05:00

I love Coca-Cola. I wish I could get myself to like diet as much, but it isn't going to happen. I have tried and tried and tried and it just never sticks. I secretly believe that regular coke has an ability to cure ANY ailment and somehow, when they remove the calories, they lose this special magic as well. We've always called it black aspirin because of its wonderful medicinal qualities. My mother has used it to cure us from everything from fainting to the flu. Every time something goes wrong she immediately suggests "ya'll go get a Coca-Cola and you'll feel better," and she is usually right. So, imagine my excitement when I discovered that this exists! Imagine! No high fructose corn syrup...but PURE cane sugar! Yeee! I'm going to Target tomorrow and they had better the fuck have it in stock.

Fucked up.

2007-03-27T16:48:00.000-05:00

Apparently, Miss. Tyra Banks has gotten herself into a bit of a pickle over some photographs for a competition on "Top Model". Each of the women posed as the victim of a variety of different murders, beatings, apparent rapes, and various assaults because, HEY! Being a victim? IS HOT.

Wrong-o.

So, I read about this about a week ago and the cable news networks are just starting to pick up on it. Every time I see a clip about it, my blood pressure shoots through the roof. Every. Time.

You can see the rest of the photos here

If Tyra Banks is supposed to be such a good example for young women, what the fuck is she playing at with this? She should be empowering women, not gushing about how beautiful their massacred bodies are. I have no words but I wholly agree with what is being discussed here. You won't believe what the judges said about how sexy it is to be attacked.

The Beach is Back!

2007-03-22T16:07:00.000-05:00

Spring break is here! My family owns a condo on the Gulf Coast. It was destroyed in the hurricane and has since been rebuilt bigger and better than before. We've been down here moving in shiny new furniture and eating seafood by the truck load. I've been coming to this same beach for twenty one years. I am so happy to be back.

I have been at said beach for one solid week. I cannot possibly convey the awesomeness of this to you. I've been drinking wine and listening to Joni Mitchell and reading Margaret Atwood. Three of my favorite things in this WORLD. However, all of this wine and frivolity has not been altogether worthless. I've been thinking. A lot. Also, I have been trying to get some sun. Ya'll, getting sun? Is hard! I am so fair I'm practically translucent. It sucks.

Tanning is futile.

Does anyone have any melanin I can borrow? I promise I'll return it. I'm very conscientious about those kinds of things.

I just finished reading The Edible Woman and I desperately want someone to discuss it with. It's like this every time I read a book. The immediate second I put it down, I need to shred it apart in minuet detail.Obsessively. I would like to be the kind of person who doesn't insist on finding metaphor in EVERYTHING. Alas,I am not. That's just not how I roll. Unfortunately, no one in this condo shares my preferences for literature.

This leaves you, dear reader.

SOMEONE. ANYONE.

Please. Read the book. Discuss it with me.I will pay you in seashells.

Tell me, is Duncan supposed to be some tangible manifestation of what is going on in Marians head, or is he just someone who is a little bit off and in need of a job that doesn't involve literary criticism. Is she being destroyed or doing the destroying! Is it just me, or is Ainsley the most insane of all?

Help!

Bad Poetry.

2007-03-03T09:58:00.000-06:00

Ode to Dr._______.
(brought to you by the lengths that I will go to in order to avoid studying for my Epistemology midterm and a bitter pill I may or may not have swallowed.)

On Mondays and Wednesdays and Fridays
I sit at my desk in a blank daze
you're smug condescension
makes me form the opinion
that you came from Hell's brimstone and blaze

We KNOW we are not great philosophers,
but a chance to succeed you don't offer
you want me to fail
so I'd like to nail
a sheet of demands to your coiffure
(*offer is not a very rhymey word. Shut up.)

Number one, can you please fucking halt
discussing your life partner Walt
we all understand
you've got a great man
when you gush I need booze, single malt!

At first I thought, "he's a smart guy!
With his wit and his flamboyant tie."
but the longer I sit
the more I admit
that I'd love to stab you in the eye.

I know! Kant's hard to comprehend,
but good grief! We are NOT fucking TEN.
I KNOW I just saw
you ignore "moral law"
when you killed my soul with your red pen.

In conclusion I'd just like to ask
that you please ignore this silver flask
you see it's a must
you'll just have to trust
deal with this or red wine in a cask.

I know, it seems harsh. But y'all, if I have to hear about the "most adorable thing that Walter did last night" ONE MORE TIME, I will vomit. Call me bitter and lonely if you would like, but I ask YOU to sit in a class on Valentine's day (when you happen to be single and pissed off) with a professor who spends the first thirty describing his AMAZING dinner plans and the second thirty minutes informing you that you read "Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals" ALL WRONG and you are, in fact, a complete a utter moron.

funny. not funny.

2007-02-24T13:08:00.000-06:00

Two months ago I bought this book.

I keep putting off reading it.

HA!

The fact that I find this highly amusing exposes a new level to my nerdyness.

And yes, that is a word.

So, it has been absolutely gorgeous outside this week and then Saturday rolls around and....shitty weather. I am so pissed about this. I told myself that if I don't miss any classes and stay in and study that I'll be able to hang out in the sunshine this weekend. Alas, there is no sunshine to hang out in. I'm stuck in the house, cleaning and studying and wishing desperately that I had gotten outside during the week. On the upside, I'm watching Notting Hill for the nine hundreath time and the "fruitarian" chick cracks me up every time.

Hugh Grant's character: So, um...these carrotts?

Fruitarian: Have been murdered. Yes.

Heeee!!!

Stinkin' Philosophy

2007-02-20T18:26:00.000-06:00

I am sick of philosophy.

Like, ready to shut my head in a door, sick. I am beginning to wonder why the hell I chose this schlock as a minor.

I haven't come up with any answers.

In fact, the only thing that I am absolutely certain about (regarding philosophy) is that the freak that sits next to me needs to stop rolling in a mixture of tabacco spit, garbage can water and refuse from the tire plant. Also, take an f'ing shower? Would be awsome. So do it already.

I mean, we get it. You are obviously so concerned with the Gettier Problem that you aren't even thinkin' about scrubbing your stanky body in the shower but PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD put on some deoderant.

That's all.

Dr. Strangelove, Or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb

2007-02-17T17:27:00.000-06:00

I bought the MCAT study guide the other day.

Damn that thing is thick. Oh, and EIGHTY dollars. Which, um.....kind of a lot of money. SO anyway, I've been working my way through it, trying to dedicate two hours every weekday to studying for the test.

The first twenty or so pages are really just chocked full of tips on how to learn properly, how our brains regurgitate information and what we can do to ensure that we can access the information that we've packed into our heads....its really strange how we remember some things and don't others.

Thursday I sat down with my dad to discuss what course of action I need to take. This was scary because it made it real and I have waited and waited to tell him about my aspiration because of something he said to me when I was in the tenth grade. Some college kid was working in his office to have some clinical experience to put down on his med school application and dad was giving him all sorts of little jobs to do. Drug reps are always bringing by cakes and candy and food in the vain attempt to persuade him to prescribe their medication to his patients,...dad never eats any of it because I think it makes him feel like he is in some way obligated to return the favor and that causes all kinds of ethical dilemmas SO ANYWAY I had come up to the office to partake in whatever feast had been assembled in the lounge. I was sitting in the chair across from my father's massive desk and the college kid came in to ask some question about Mr.So-in-so in room one, Dad answered and the kid walked out. Next, he looked up at me and said "the best advice I can give to anyone who wants to go into medicine is not to".

Looking back, I remember it in the way that one remembers a scene from a movie watched years ago....but it has always stayed with me. Only recently I have decided that it might be a mistake, but if I never try I'll regret it forever and that really isn't an option for me.

So, failure is not an option. Acknowledging that I have always wanted to be a physician has created an eight million pound gorilla that sits in the room, glaring at me, wearing a stethoscope around his neck. Denial is a very effective coping mechanism.

In which I have a dream,....and it is scary.

2007-02-10T06:52:00.001-06:00

I hate it when people talk about dreams they've had, mainly it's just that I don't like being told a bad story. So, I try not to tell other people about mine unless they are particularly amusing.

I've just realized that the sentences I've just typed out expose some irritating character flaws.... I need to work on that. Anyway, so yea... dreams, are kind of...freaky? Sometimes. I should probably first say that I've been around guns since I was a little girl, but I've never really been comfortable around them, which is pretty odd because I've been hunting before and like, shot things and it was sort of OK when it was happening but something I don't really like talking about because the pheasants still kind of haunt me. SO, last night I had three dreams in a row about guns. First, the girl from Scrubs was checking my vitals at the hospital from the show and someone came in with a gun, shot someone else and ran away. He left the gun though. In the next dream it was Christmas and I was hanging out with Judy Garland and my family and we found a gun on the floor. The last one was the scariest. I was at a gas station with Caro and we were standing outside when a man with his hand in his coat walked up, pulled out a gun and pointed it across the parking lot. I walked behind him trying to act casually, like I didn't notice (yea, apparently the dream version of me is a dumb ass) and when he pulled the trigger I felt like I had just fired a shotgun....you know, that weird kick back thing? I kept walking and hid behind a van but was horrified to realize that I had totally left Caro out in the middle of the lot! EEEEEEEEE! Luckily, she was safe. ANYWAY, the guy ran away and left the gun and Caro picked it up and was waving it around and then my mom showed up and it was just freakin' weird and not at all fun and I woke up all anxiety ridden and I wanted to call Caro but it was 4 a.m. I totally forgot that she is Miss. Party Woman 2007 and would probably be up and dancing on tables. I looked up "gun" on Dream Dictionary and it said this....

Gun
Violence. Aggression. Threat. Danger ahead.

Grrreeeeeaaaaatttt. Just fabulous.

Because I am sick of looking at the picture of my IV...

2007-02-09T18:28:00.000-06:00

I'm just posting a wee tiny placeholder to get it off of the screen. I've been cooking today......the results are interesting to say the least.

Can you hold on a sec? I need to puke....

2007-02-07T16:51:00.000-06:00

I had so much work to do this week.... tests and papers and a presentation that all had to be postponed due to my inability to move without puking.

Oh, yes.

The little girl in The Sixth Sense and the chick from The Exorcist don't have shit on me because I HAD THE STOMACH FLU FOR DAYS, PEOPLE. DAYS.

It was horrifying and I will not go into detail except to say that it is not fun to hurl your guts up while your father attempts to shove an icky, icky needle crucial to the administration IV fluids INTO YOUR POOR LITTLE ARM because, Hi! You will DIE from dehydration if he doesn't.

The worst part was that after I'd gone through two liters of fluids I started feeling better so Dad sent me home to rest. Before shoving me into Mother's car, he decided it would be best to hep lock the IV(basically just leave the tube in my arm and tape it down so that if I needed more fluids later he would only have to hook a bag up instead of sticking me again). I must tell you that I abhor needles. The only reason the IV was even put in was because I was too deliriously sick to care if someone was peeling my skin off, much less sticking a tube into my arm. After I began to feel better I was much more concerned with the plastic tubing protruding from my arm.

I had to sleep with it that way.

EEEEEEEEEKKKKK!

I decided the best way to handle the situation was just to not look at my right arm at all and hold it at a constant acute angle. Well, I was spending the night with my parents so that they could take care of me (and it was either that or the Hoppie. When given the option of spending the night in Hospital Hades there is only one appropriate answer: Hell to the no.)

Anyway, when I woke up this morning Daddy was already at work and my Mom was gone and I couldn't find my cell phone and well......I had a melt down when I looked down at my bruised hep locked arm and I decided that the thing??? had to come out. NOW. Not in an hour, not in twenty minutes. RIGHT MUTHAFUCKING NOW.

So....I un-did the tape holding it down and pulled the long plastic tube out of my vein and bent my arm back to stem the flow of the bleeding and then my head exploded because, um? I DO NOT do shit like take out my own IV???????????

Drastic measures were taken. The more time distances me from the event, the more disturbed I get.

Let us never speak of this again.

I suggest wiping down all surfaces in your house with the cleaner of your choice, washing your hands hourly and staying the H away from anyone displaying symptoms of what I lovingly refer to as the dog flu.

SOMEbody needs a Bahamavention.

2007-01-28T15:03:00.000-06:00

AND IT IS ME.

So, feel free to stop by with plane tickets and a keg of beer with a straw in it. That would be gggrrrrreeeeeaaaaaattttttttt.

It snowed today and to my dismay, class was not cancelled. Ha, that was sort of rhyme-y. Anyway, yes...snow and still with the class and the test and the APPLYING FOR GRADUATION because, Hi!It's getting closer to being "that" time. I have mixed emotions about this.I am planning on going to graduate school for sure. I just don't know what "kind" of graduate degree I want. My father suggested I take the MCAT. I promptly informed him that he is INSANE but have started to consider it....I mean,....it wouldn't hurt just to seehow it goes..

It is entirely possible that I am too stupid to be a physician....er....probable.

Anyway, I will most definitly be slogging through the mire of at least a couple of Kaplan study books. I know, this is all so thrilling.

NotSoMuch.

In other news, Veronica Lario is highly entertaining.

To the left, to the left...

2007-01-27T22:28:00.000-06:00

So, tonight I was trying to explain where a particular city was to a friend. Somehow, my twisted mental process tried informing said person that the city (which is east of where I live) is "to the left". Said person was (understandably) confused. I decided to draw an amateur sketch. This is it.

"Hate the Baby Syndrome", Coldness

2007-01-23T06:20:00.000-06:00

I am not really a "fan" per say of winter. I fully realize that this is not a new revelation but one that has been covered in excruciating detail in previous posts. I'm not fired up about the whole global warming thing either....but that's another post for another day. Anyway, I would like to reiterate the fact that I? HATE HATE HATE THE COLD.

Personally, I think that this fear/hate/loathing is the direct result of a traumatic incident of my youth.

First, I should inform you that I am the oldest of four children. That means that I experienced not one, not two, but THREE episodes of "hate the baby" syndrome. The second-to-last episode was the worst. When my mother was expecting my baby sister (the last episode), my younger sister and I decided that we were not so much interested in another sibling as we were in a poodle. We begggged for a poodle. We NEEDED a poodle. Why? I do not know. I guess we've always been a little high maintenance.SO,we did not get a poodle. We got a sister. We called her Poodle. We still do. Anyway, we were pretty used to not being the centers of attention (I know, feel SORRY FOR US)so we just sort of dealt with it by pretending that she was not so much a "baby" as a "dog".

You see, when "the boy" was born there was a massive freak attack. In a family of five granddaughters and ONE grandson, being a girl is not so much something special as something that inspires fear and regret due to the immediate realization that shoes? are expensive. Make up? is expensive. Louis Vuitton? IS EXPENSIVE.

Anyway, when my brother was born it was all "Thank You Jesus" and everyone was collectively amazed because, Hi! a boy! SO, because no one wanted to watch our tap dance shows and have tea parties with us anymore, my sister and my cousins and I were stricken with the worst case of "hate the baby" yet.

Symptom included:
Whenever asked, "how is your little brother doing?" I would reply "we gave him away" or "he left" or "mom doesn't like him", my sister gradually caught on and even took it a step further to inform all inquisitive persons that my parents and my brother? DIED. They had not. This lead to some interesting conversations:

Adult: How are your mommy and daddy and new baby brother?

Caro: They died.

Adult: Ummm.....noooooo. They're at home, remember? You came with your grandma!

Caro: She died too.

Adult: You're an odd little person.

Caro: It's true, just ask my sister.

Adult: Now Lauren, please be a big girl and tell the truth.

Self: Yes ma'am. They are not dead, but we hate them all so they might as well be.

Adult: .....

That gets us to why, on one fateful day in January, my hatred for all things not warm began. I was fed up with being ignored and more than a little pissed that my mother would not stop cooking long enough to watch my autobiographical play entitled "Why I Hate My Family" (a cautionary tale of a young girl whose parents neglected her, refused to watch her roller skating shows, taste her Easy Bake Oven delicacies and had the audacity to ask her "can't you play that somewhere else?" so she ran away and joined a travelling circus and her family spent the rest of their lives searching everywhere for her because they felt SO COMPLETELY MISERABLE for ignoring her talents...shut up). The play starred Nibbles (our three legged dachshund) Caro (who played the part of "Anastasia" a.k.a. "ME") and assorted dolls, stuffed animals and a pillow with a belt and a hat that played the part of the ecstatic ring leader of the circus (he was ecstatic because he had NEVER found ANYONE with the kind of talent Anastasia possessed. Again, shut up.) SO, the stage was set. The actors were in place. I had positioned myself in the front "row", prepared to verbally disembowel anyone who fucked up my play and

......we waited

........and waited

Five minutes later (I've never been very patient) I stormed into the kitchen all, "EXcuse me MOTHER but you are MISSING my play!!!!!" to which my mom replied, "can't you practice a few more times? I'm cooking dinner and your brother needs to be fed and your dad had to stay late at work.."

All my little eight year old head herd was, "bla bla bla, you aren't worth my time"

Retaliation was swift.

I immediately stormed upstairs, put on my coat and hat, packed a few essential items in a bag (a Polly Pocket and my latest copy of Hi Lites magazine)and stormed out the front door yelling something subtle like "I AM RUNNING AWAY".

At the time, we were living on about one hundred acres. The front of the house faced a big field, the back faced some pretty thick woods. Guess which I picked.

After walking as far into the woods as I could get without crawling through underbrush, I sat down and proceeded to play with Polly Pocket.

And then, it started to snow. Not a little snow. A TRUCK LOAD of snow. Almost as if the heavens had opened up and articulated "Greetings O Bratty One! See what happens when you threaten your parents?" in the form of wet coldness.

I know, what the fuck? I imagine my eight year old self was thinking something along those lines, but less profane.

I live in ALABAMA. It is cold, yes......but snow?

This "snow" that I am referring to would later be known as the "Blizzard of '93". It took about a half of an inch falling from the sky to make me realize that my plan had been foiled by mother nature. I imagine my mental process went something like this:

"Snow? SNOW! I BET I DON'T HAVE TO GO TO SCHOOL TOMORROW. Which is....AWESOME. I hate stupid school and stupid Mrs. Chisolm and her STUPID "no no tree". I can't believe she made ME sign the dumb tree just because I wouldn't share my crayon with icky Christopher. I mean, Christopher! who is a BOY! and therefore is not capable of producing the type of artistic GOLD that I am only able to create WITH MY CRAYON."

****

"Ummm, this doesn't really look....ummm...familiar..."

****

"I have been WANDERING for HOURS (more like seconds) and SURELY I will freeze to DEATH in a SOLID BLOCK OF ICE LIKE BUGS BUNNY."

****

SO, I wandered in the blizzard for oh......minutes? The pathetic part is that I was so cold that I was crying. The snow was flying into my eyes so I had to pull my hat down over them and wander around bumping into trees until my little eyeballs were warm enough to see for a while. I made my way out of the woods and by the time I had gotten to the front door everything was covered by a blanket of snow. I ran inside to inform everyone that IT IS OK! I AM ALIVE. As you've probably guessed, my mom yelled from the kitchen that she would be in to see the play in a minute and could I please not scream like a banshee. Caro was still sitting on the "stage" playing with a Barbie. They never realized I had been gone. Anyway, ever since I have been petrified of freezing to death, in a solid block of ice a'la Bugs Bunny. Unfortunately, this little phobia has created a "problem" in the form of a power bill exceeding four hundred dollars.

Hope you're all staying warm!

The Winter of Our Discontent

2007-01-16T18:14:00.000-06:00

Mocha and I are freezing our asses off....collectively.

Coldness is not something that we enjoy. We are the kind of beings who like the warmth...ness. I guess I shouldn't bitch so much, I mean....what with global warming and melting iceburgs and all....who am I kidding? Fuck cold weather.

So, because it is cold and because my life consists of class and sleep and I really would like to spice that up, I have been cooking up a storm. Lasagna and cookies and bacon, oh my!

Unfortunaly, I have a feeling that the casseroles that are taking up space in my fridge will soon be taking up residence in the form of about ten pounds on my ass. Because: I. Can't. Stop. Eating.

Do ya'll ever do that? I mean, go through these phases where you cook and cook and cook and eat and eat and eat? It's like I'm the love child of Paula Deen and Brad Pitt's character from Oceans 11. So, freezing and cooking and eating. That is about it for the excitment over here.

Usually, I think about blog topics in the car on my forty hour commute to class and back every day. Admittadly, this is dangerous. My mind can wander into some pretty scary territory. Some topics that I have come up with lately have included:

corpses
husbands
Cartesian Dualism
beauty pagents
corn

Anyway, I think that it's pretty much safe to say that this is the worst post ever. I'm sorry. I promise that as soon as I stop eating and find a warm enough coat I WILL WRITE A BETTER POST!

Update!

2007-01-12T22:11:00.000-06:00

Just dropping on in to say that the anti-diet is going fabulously.... thanks to a Southern Living recipe for roasted chicken and some bananna pudding. Happy Weekend!!!

Diet,Interrupted.

2007-01-11T18:16:00.000-06:00

So, reading over the last few posts, I believe that one specific inference can be made. That inference being: I am well on my way to a nervous breakdown. OR....in the middle? of one? Yea, so... Hi!

Because my laptop is a piece of shit, you are unaware of the ridiculous and stupid and lame and dumb and DID I MENTION FUCKING RIDICULOUS diet that I am...er....was? on. That diet was: stop eating.Yea, sooooo, it wasn't really that bad. It was more like a fruit and vegetable diet where there were 1. no carbs and 2. no booze. For the past four days I have lived off of Diet Sundrop, oranges, tomatos, salad and bottled water and coffee.

Let me explain. New Years resolutions, people.Mine were: stop smoking, lose ten pounds, exercise more.

Betcha wondering how well THAT worked for me, aren't ya?

Let me first explain that as I am typing this, this very second, I have consumed:

1) one bottle of Pinot Noir
2) two bowls of pasta
3) seven red Starbursts
4) half of a pint of Ben & Jerry's New York Super Fudge Chunk ice cream
5) one Lean Cuisine
6) a half a pack of cigarettes

all in the span of about two hours.

Anyway, I tried. It didn't work. On the up side, eating and drinking and smoking makes me a much nicer person to be around.... so, yay that.

Soon there will be a positive, uplifting entry about...I dunno, bunnies or world peace or something. Until then, will someone please come over and pry this bag of Doritos out of my hand?

Anger Managment.

2007-01-10T21:59:00.000-06:00

So, I just spent...oh, I dunno, A WHOLE FUCKING HOUR on a post that just went away. I do not know where. WHERE DID YOU GO LITTLE POST?

Honestly, it is probably in your best interest. I started a diet and I am (as my mother would say) in Rare Form.

The lost post contained:

1. Two peices of hate mail addressed to two particularly irritating people that I came into contact with today.

2. The details of my diet.

3. Roughly four paragraphs of expletive laden whining.

I know you're upset that you're missing out on all of that. I promise, you'll live.

School Anxiety

2007-01-08T08:34:00.000-06:00

Hellllo Spring Semester. I hate you. Yes, you personally.

I am taking eighteen hours. Just typing that sentence makes me want to run for the liquor cabinet.

PEOPLE.

Eighteen mother fucking hours, and class starts today. The silver lining is that (unless I go to grad school) this will be the last spring semester ever! Ya-yuh!

I want a job in the Real World. Show me the money.

In other news: Mocha is being really clingy lately. I think it's because I left him at my parents a lot over the holidays. He's worried I'm going to run away and leave him. Bless his little heart. Not in this way but in a nice way because I love my little pup.

Also, new episode of Grey's Anatomy on Thursday so maybe this week won't totally suck.

Humorless

2007-01-06T18:28:00.000-06:00

Ya'll, today I had a revelation.

I am not funny.

I was on the phone with my aunt, who incidentally is totally freakin' hilarious, and we were talking about super powers and as usual she said something that made me want to fall on the floor and laugh hysterically until I died and I realized that...I? AM NOT FUNNY. SO that is the super power that I have decided I want to have. I mean, Aunt Sue makes up words like "squanch" and "coo-ma-cah-lie" and works them into sentences with "important" adult people who will actually reply seriously to a sentence like...

"excuse me but if I could just interrupt you for a minute. I'm sure you're presentation is very informative but if I could just squanch in before you and throw this coomacahlie up for everyone to see I think we would make a lot more progress."

I mean, what the fuck? Like, the writers for "Arrested Development". THEY were funny. Why come funny is not like a nose? EVERYONE HAS A NOSE. Why come EVERYONE can't have a little funny. PLEASE TELL ME.

Stick A Fork in Her....

2007-01-05T07:58:00.000-06:00

Class starts back on Monday.

Yucka fucka.

It isn't that I don't like learning, it isn't even that I passionately abhor the FORTY FIVE MINUTE commute EVERY DAY. Mainly, it's that I'm going to have to get off of my ass and Do Things. My holiday was really lovely. No one was forked to death.

I guess I should probably explain that. When I was thirteen years old my family decided it would be a fabulous idea to collectively embark on a ski vacation to Colorado. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings....everyone. We all stayed in one super lovely and pretty and fabulous house. Then one night before dinner, my mother and my aunt got into a heated discussion over what to season the turkey with and it lead to MY AUNT PULLING A FORK OUT AND THREATENING TO STAB MY MOTHER. People, this was not acceptable. My grandmothers brain exploded by the intense UN-Southerness of her daughters behavior and my cousins and I promptly collapsed on the floor laughing hysterically at our mamma's acting like heathens. Anyway, we've always gauged the level of family tension by this handy dandy chart:

1. 'bout to get a fork: someone has been wronged to the point of inconvenience and/or mild discomfort. Retaliatory measures include: ignoring requests to pass something (i.e. question: Aunt Bessie, will you please pass the grits? answer: Why Michael, what a lovely tie you're wearing. Did you hear something just now? Because I DID NOT.), a snide remark being made to the entire family regarding perpetrating family member, or "accidentally" tipping the gravy boat into the lap of the wrong doer.

2.....now that I think about it, there's only the one. Either you're about to get forked or you're getting forked. The latter has not happened to date. The former is a relatively daily occurrence.

How did I get off on all of that? Anyway, so yes it has been a really good holiday. I was in Charleston, South Carolina for the New Year and it was so much fun. Charleston is a really beautiful place. Y'all should go.PLUS it was like seventy five degrees the whole trip!

Because I have been in Charleston for the New Year and at my parents house for Christmas, my poor little house is rather in need of a good scrub down. That will commence in about four seconds. So, if you need me I will be up to my eyeballs in cleaning supplies. Whoo hoo.

Place Holdin' Fun

2007-01-03T17:33:00.000-06:00

I have decided to stop smoking. I am finding this to be an incredibly difficult task, mainly because I heart cigarettes. They are lovely little cancer causing sticks of joy that can no longer be a part of my life. I must persevere. In other news: I went to Charleston for New Years. It was fab five Freddie. More will come on that later. So, consider this a nice little place holder.

Roman Holiday

2006-12-26T07:30:00.000-06:00

I hope everyone is having a good Christmas time. Today, my family is continuing with the cooking, the eating, the watching of movies and the general gluttony that we have come to associate with the season of perpetual hope. Good times.

I am so thrilled and excited and just freaking' stoked because.....MY PARENTS ARE SENDING MY SISTER AND ME TO ITALY! Yay. Merry Christmas! I predict that this will be discussed in detail on a semi-weekly basis and that this blog will change from one centered around bitching and moaning to one centered around TRAVEL! I hope each and every one of you had a Buon Natale!

Christmas Conversations

2006-12-19T07:53:00.000-06:00

So, my sister is in town for the holidays. Today, my mother is sending us shopping for various Christmas items. Some of these items include: and iPod, a Chia Pet in the shape of a dog, twenty five stockings, a tuxedo, and a partridge in a pear tree. SO, this morning, I talked to Caro on the Internet. I found it hilarious. If you do not, I am sorry.

Laurens: i need to ask you some things

Caro: what

Lauren: what are you going to wear?

Caro: unnn i don't know yet.. something that i can wear to work too..so semi dressy... we have to look for something to wear Thurs (*we're going to a party-thingy)

Lauren: heah that is good

Lauren: we cannot spell today.

Lauren: unnnn???

Lauren: tell mom to cut on the today show (they were illustrating what can go VERY WRONG with a tree when it is not properly maintained)

Lauren: NOW

Caro: wow

Lauren: they've set a tree a blaze and it is catching the house on fire

Lauren: did you see it?

Caro: yes

Lauren: scary

Lauren: i need to water my tree

Caro: i saw it.. and you have to make sure no candles are left on it and water needs to be on it

Caro: so dump a bucket of water on the top of the tree...maybe two, just to be safe

Lauren: I don't think that's what they mean. I think they mean put water in the base.

Lauren: because you really shouldn't dump water on the lights??? right?

Caro: stick a chia pet (edited)

Lauren: light yourself on fire

Caro: yep

Lauren: and then dump water on yourself and your fiery chia (edited)
Caro: yep

Caro: OK I really am going because i have to get gas

Laurens: OK meet you at the house !

Holiday Update

2006-12-18T11:40:00.000-06:00

Ah, Christmas.

The needles on my tree have fallen to the ground and I am left with a large branch loaded down with every ornament ever made in the history of the world, period. I have exactly one gift under said tree. Considering that today is December 18th, the number of gifts under my tree should be around "eleventy billion". I haven't gotten anyone anything. This means that I will be at the mall tomorrow morning at nine a.m. and will probably leave sometime around "never".

I guess I should probably tell you about the dinner party that wasn't. I am just still so upset that it's hard for me to discuss it without dissolving into tears and screaming "I just want to know WHYYYYYYY!!!!!!" I'll give you the short hand version. My oven caught on fire. By the time we got to the fire extinguisher the turkey had been engulfed. This lead to an emergency trip to the grocery store where steaks were purchased, taken home, seriously undercooked and thrown in the garbage. Oh, and out of the eleven people that had sworn to me on THEIR PETS LIVES that they would be there. at five. thank you. amen..... exactly four showed. I was fucking pissed. It was terrible, I got drunk and spend roughly four hours crying in the bathroom.

Moving right along, it is hot here,....not very Christmasy feeling.

The good news is that there is plenty of wine in the fridge.

Merry Christmas, Damnit

2006-12-10T22:46:00.000-06:00

Merry Christmas, lovelies! I love this time of year. It is my favorite. It reminds me of being a wee tiny person whose only worries included "cookies, chocolate" and "doll, Barbie" which are very nice thoughts as opposed to "bills, electric" and "problems, car"....none of that is the point of this post though. The point of this post is to talk about snow, or the lack thereof.

The last time I was able to frolic in real snow was five years ago. My church was going on a ski trip. My two best friends and I decided that we would ONLY go if we could stay in the same room. Let me explain, we were brats. Period. We approached our youth minister with this theory. Being the youth minister, he wasn't able to tell us the truth (that we were behaving like a bunch of little bitches on par with Shannon Dougherty) and instead smiled and told us that he'd do the best he could, this was code for "ok you little twits, wanna play like that?". Macey, Marcy and I rode the bus UP the mountains and to North Carolina to a creepy, dank, old hotel that was massive, Victorian and haunted to Hell and back. The entire church was staying on one side of the hotel and we were placed on the haunted, creepy, dark, deserted ELEVENTY SEVEN BATRILLION DEGREES other side. Also, an extra added bonus: the Exorcist. THE EXORCIST. The mother freakin' Exorcist was the only thing on T.V.... I bout died.

So, we stayed up staring at the screen in abject horror while the poor little girl vomited split pea soup all over the world and we were so hot that I hallucinated and became convinced that I had been swallowed into the caverns of Hell. Finally around four in the morning, Marcy and Macey decided it would be a good idea to OPEN THE WINDOW and allow the three degree wind to blow through the room. It was so blazing hot in that room that the window being open didn't start to help for an hour or so and we finally crashed around six. Unfortunately, six was the time that we were supposed to meet our church at the bus to trolly us to the slopes. It took forty five minutes of our youth director banging on the door to wake us up and another hour for us to blitz around layering ski clothes on top of ski clothes to stay warm. When we finally got to the bus people were making rude comments like "spoiled ***ches" and they weren't even trying to conceal them in whispers. How did I get on this subject? Do you know? I don't. ANYWAY! My point is: I like snow. I miss snow. I want to marry snow and live together in an ice castle. It's finals week people, I'm sorry.

In other news: my finger hurts. Also, I'm having a lovely festive Christmas dinner on Thursday and I will be preparing it BY MYSELF like a big person. This could go a few ways...

1. Fantastically, i.e. everyone eats drinks and is merry and we avoid things that are not good like food poisioning, beating Maceys boyfriend (who no one likes) in the face with a shovel, etc..(shut your mouth,.....it could happen)

2. Dreadfully, i.e. everyone drinks and is merry but the food sucks.

3. Catastrophically, i.e. everyone eats the food, contracts life threatening food borne illness and spends the holidays in an oxygen tent.

Say a little prayer for me....

In which I hurt myself....

2006-12-09T01:35:00.000-06:00

How does one drive without the most important finger?

I am freezing my ass of. Literally. My ass is frozen and no longer attached to my body. It is one thirty six in the morning. I typically go to bed around nineish. I am jacked through the roof. Also, I have been informed that I am "an accident waiting to happen".

Lemmie give you some back story. My lovely and very special and beautiful married friends and I ate Chinese food, drank wine and then felt compelled to smoke some cigarettes. Unfortunately, it is approximately FOUR FUCKING DEGREES. So, being the creative and stubborn people that we are, we built a fire pit that we felt compelled to sit around and stare into with childlike wonder for FIVE HOURS. During the past five hours several grand things occurred. I will share them with you..................now.

Things that happened:
1. I melted my shoe down to my toe on the fire pit.
2. I shattered a wine glass with my hulk like grip and had to be hog tied and body slammed to the floor so that the slit running down my finger could be bandaged before I bled all over the world or passed out.
3. I saw the blood that had dripped on the floor and collapsed in a nauseated pile on the kitchen floor and made a command decision to purchase stemless wine glasses, so sayeth I, amen.
4.I had to be revived with a glass of bourbon.
5. I froze my ass off
6. I switched to coffee and Kahlua to warm my ass up
7. I got jacked on coffee
8.I pulled my band aid off, looked at my poor hurt little finger and collapsed again.
9. They left me in the floor because they had "already dealt with THAT once"
10. I drank more.
11.I came home.
12. My finger hurts

Typical.

2006-12-01T18:41:00.001-06:00

The boys win again.

Boredom: the desire for desires.

2006-11-30T17:54:00.002-06:00

So, I don't know if you've noticed,...but I have been veeeerrryyy posty lately.

I have also been doing lots of other out-of-the-ordinary things lately. Some of these things include:
drinking beer
(!!! I know! You may be tempted to ask me why I have forsaken my lifeblood that is wine and the answer is....well I do not know. I've just felt kind of beer-y.)
not taking the garbage to the end of the driveway for the garbage truck
(this isn't THAT big of a deal....I mean, there are probably only two bags in the enormous cavern that is my garbage can but I'm usually more up on the cleanliness....)
watching "King of the Hill"
(um, yes. I don't really know what's up with THAT)
Anyway, I am concerned about my very unladylike behavior....just not concerned enough to do anything about it. Basically--- what I'm trying to say is that right this very moment, I am sucking at life very much. Someone should probably intervene. Any volunteers? Yea, I didn't think there would be any.

Very exciting times are upon us, what with the drinking of beer and the watching of bad TV and the fact that there is a small (yet amazingly smelly) Yorkie asleep on my foot. I don't think I'd be very good reality television material this week. I guess people are sort of "over" the whole single, boring, white girl who drinks a lot thing. I believe it's called Bridget Jones.

So, for those of you out there with hyper productive lives...this Bud is for you. For the rest of you who (like me) have spent the majority of the last days with a couch fused to your ass, I think it's time we bathed the dog....because the stench is getting out of control.

Grey's Anatomy, People.Grey's Anatomy.

2006-11-29T21:24:00.000-06:00

Top three best show ever. Period.

Men don't get it and at the risk of sounding like a....(I dunno what word to put here?..... Sexist bitch? Hmmm, I guess that works) I think it's because the idea of intelligent, witty women who don't wear much make-up and spend the majority of their days elbow-deep in someones lung cavity totally skeeves them out.

I mean, the women on the show are really attractive and there is plenty of screwing around and dirty banter and all of the other garbage men get off on, but for the most part they're just smart, sarcastic and sexually liberated chicks who don't need to be rescued. Also, the men on the show? I mean, yeah McDreamy is a brain surgeon but he spends most of his time pecking away at his palm pilot and strutting around like a peacock with a god complex.

It reminds me of when I was little. I was sitting in the kitchen playing with one of my Barbie dolls when my dad came in and asked me what I was doing.
I told him that Barbie was cooking dinner so that Ken and G.I. Joe could come over and eat. I also told him that she was very excited because she was going to marry one of them and live in a big house and play tennis every day with her friend Theresa. My father then informed me that Barbie wasn't getting married until she had finished graduate school and that was that.

When there's a bomb in a body cavity? It's Meridith, totally calm and dealing with the situation. When Denn---uh....so I forgot about Izzy for a minute. Oh, Izzy. Forever pulling the "I'm blond and I have a ginormous rack and everyone thinks I'm dumb but I'm really not, OK. My soul is forever crushed because I have been cursed with beauty" Give me a fucking break. At first I thought she was going to be the anti-dumb blond, unfortunately for me, Denny died and Izzy flew over the cuckoo's nest.

Anyway, the ultimate point is: great show people, great show. Tomorrow night. Get fired up.

Christmas Shopping!

2006-11-29T08:46:00.000-06:00

OK. So. I feel like, kind of bad for sending all of that icky bad energy out into the world. I've decided that I'm going to make a little list of cool/pretty/fun X-mas gifts that are special and you can find on the Internet! So, here they are...

First on our list! Cross stitch. Because, who doesn't want a lovely piece of handmade art beckoning visitors into their kitchen with a phrase like "Don't Make Me Cut You". So, yes. subversive cross stitch. If you venture over to the "subversive holiday shop" you'll find holiday cards! One of my personal favorites is a lovely green color and I find it a grand way to invite your friends and family to "fuck the halls". I'm sort of wondering how one goes about fucking the halls? Is this even physically possible? Hmmmmm.

Second, we have a Christmas classic! These!!! Nothin' says happy holidays like Tiffany's diamonds. Alas, I can state with absolute certainty that I will not be getting them this year.

For the recluse in your life. My all time favorite TV show, maybe because there are striking similarities between their dysfunctional family and my own.

For the outdoors man. Who doesn't need a headlamp? I mean, anyone who has ever been camping will attest to the cruciality (yes, I know it really isn't a word) of this one tool. That reminds me of a story....the last time I went camping my then-boyfriend's dog VOMITED into my sleeping bag. Inside of the bag. ON THE INSIDE OF MY SLEEPING BAG. Are you getting this? It was bad. It was 25 degrees that night. We were out of vodka. I cried for twenty minutes. We broke up when we got back to the car....bastard.

Moving right along.

Personally, I am dying for these. I know, I know, cookware? Yes! Yes! I want cookware! I am also dying for one of these! I want it in "Komen pink".A pink mixer! YAY! And, they'll donate fifty dollars to Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation as a part of the Cook for the Cure®. Now, breast cancer awarness is a cause that we here at T-B-R feel very strongly about, being the kind of people who have breasts. So, I will be requesting one of the mixers from the parental units.

Now, I absolutely love and adore these. Lovely, dainty and super pretty. Everyone could use another ornament....well, not my mother. I think she has enough. In fact,I should go borrow some.

Also, for the wineo .

Ok, so that's a start! I should go and shower. Now, probably.

It's Wednesday! It's Wednesday!

2006-11-29T08:24:00.000-06:00

Which means that I am feeling much better now, thank you. I have made a command decision never to post on a Tuesday again, forever and ever, amen. Have a great day!

"Let me feel now what sharp distress I may."

2006-11-28T17:20:00.000-06:00

-Charles Dickens.

*Disclaimer: If you are feeling even remotely suicidal, I advise you to read something else. Try this.
So, because it is Tuesday.
Because it is winter.
Because I started crying in the car FOR NO APPARENT REASON.

I would like to attempt to get some of my thoughts out into the world instead of bottled up inside of my brain (which is, unfortunately, a scary place).

In a failed attempt to cheer myself up, I have been listening to some of my favorite music.
This includes :
Ingrid Michaelson "Breakable"
Damien Rice "9 Crimes"
Kate Havnevik "New Day"

The first song in particular....
"Have you every thought about
what protects our hearts?
Just a cage of rib bones
and other various parts.
So it's fairly simple
to cut right through the mass
and stop the muscle
that makes us confess"

My friends all hate my music. Mainly because they listen to the vocal bastardization that is this. Also, they like the rap music which is not my fav thing ever. Anyway, I started writing this with a bunch of grandiose ideas about the way the world should work and how people should treat eachother and it has turned into something of a mess. In fact, I think I will steal a line from my grandma and "leave well enough alone".

I'm going to drink.

More will come later.

Get your Prozac ready. Better yet, just send me some.

Happy Thanksgiving! What happened to your hair?

2006-11-23T07:38:00.001-06:00

Once a year, I do this. I don't know why. I always regret it. I make a hair appointment that is supposed to be routine and I wake up and I get in the car and I go to the salon and I sit in the chair and then "cut it all off" is out of my mouth so fast that Allison has to make me repeat it. Then we have "the talk".

Allison: Are you positive?

Self: Do it. Do it now.

Allison: You realize that the last time I cut off all of your hair you called me from the floor of your bathroom sobbing uncontrollably?

Self: Ummm, no. No, I umm....I don't remember that ever happening.

Allison: Yea, that probably has a lot to do with the handful of Xanax your sister had to shove into your mouth to keep you from flipping out on her.

Self: I promise I won't flip out, it's touching my neck, GET IT OFF OF MY NECK.

Allison: I wish you would find someone else to do your hair.

Self: Yea. Whatever.

So, I did that yesterday. My whole family is in town and they have united under a blanket of hatred for my hair. A few key conversation points have solidified my belief that my family thinks I look terrible. It's always so hard to tell what they're really thinking because they are all so subtle about it.

NOT.

Some blatant insults include:

"I told you not to cut it"-spoken by my sister.

"Happy Thanksgiving! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HAIR?"- spoken by my aunt.

"Why can't you just leave good enough alone?"- that little gem was from my grandma.

"Hi Lizb- OH MY GOD."- thanks Dad.

Happy Thanksgiving!

"Mother may I go and maffick, tear around and hinder traffic"

2006-11-20T10:14:00.000-06:00

That's a line from a satire called "Reginald's Peace Poem".

I was in Nashville this weekend. It was very interesting.

Some exciting events include but are not limited to: falling down in the street (we're talking face plant, people...there are bruises to prove it), refusing to go home and instead of getting into the cab like a good girl... bolting into another bar where eight people were forced to follow, drunk dialing my mother and lighting my scarf on fire. On the upside, there are lots of photos...on the downside a gay man in Arkansas is in possession of all of them.

I Hate My Oven

2006-11-13T22:00:00.000-06:00

So, ya'll...I really need my ass kicked.

Um, YESTERDAY NIGHT (or three weeks ago when the assignment was given, whichever) I was supposed to be writing a book report for class TODAY. Guess how that went?

No, seriously. Guess.

Did you guess that not only did I not do the report, but that I also did not go to class? Did you? Because, if you did.......you would be right.

I decided to spend time with my favorite nineteen year old sister in the world. Yes, she may be my only nineteen year old sister,...but I also have a favorite sister who is significantly younger. Carey and I have been par-taying and I will be paying for it until Friday morning when I leave for a visit with my favorite thirty something year old aunt!

Anyway, my sister came home from school this weekend and I just sort of figured...why don't I pay her a visit from time to time??? Well here we are. Anyway, none of this has anything to do with what I will be talking about tonight.

Tonight, my dear friends, I will be dishing (ha, I made a pun. Aren't I witty? Shut it.) on the subject of cooking. I like to call it "Lasagna: the seventh ring of Hell".

Ya'll. This was bad. This was so bad that we almost had to call 911 and beg the fire department to Please, come and save us from the gate to Hell that has opened itself in the kitchen. Does the fire department handle Hell vortexes? I do not know. This was so bad that I locked myself in the closet with a pack of Marlboro's and a bag of candy corn and did not come out for like four FUCKING hours because PEOPLE. This was B-A-D.

SO, Thursday night. I was totally psyched about cooking Giada's lasagna. It is supposed to be fab-o and there were lots of loved ones coming to participate in the feasting and the drinking and the general gluttony of the night and I was just so glad that everyone was going to be together that I went all out.

It was supposed to have four cheeses. FOUR.

It was supposed to have tomato sauce, and meat that was edible, and spinach.

It was supposed to be a lovely, very grown-up meal.

It was none of these things.

I was doing grand. People were getting into town from various places at ridiculously late hours so I decided that NO ONE would be eating dinner. Aw, Hell Naw. We were all going to starve until supper was completed circa midnight.

SO, hungry people began arriving and I had everything organized and was just about to start layering the lasagna when Mash (who had consumed roughly forty seven bottles of wine) came in, totally loaded, and proceeded to assemble the dish while I was outside smoking. Apparently she was trying to help me (or channeling the devil, I'm still not sure which). When I came back in, a partly assembled lasagna had made its way to the oven TURNED BLOODY FUCKING UPSIDE DOWN and Mash was passed out on the dog bed all "I am sleepy and innocent, sorry starving people. Hate it for you" and I looked at Mash, and I looked at the flaming oven and then I looked at Mash again and then my head exploded.

And then I drank. And then people went to Krystal. And then I decided that I would NEVER ever cook again for all of you SOB's and I hope you choke on your chili cheese pup you bunch of ingrates. The worst part was the next morning when I had to clean out my ancient oven that is not equipped with a self cleaning mechanism and therefore required two things that I abhor with a fiery passion served up from the belly of Hades. Those things being: A) oven cleaning spray and B) manual labor.

Thankfully, I managed to clean the kitchen in less than thirty five hours and pretty much chucked everyone out of my house by Saturday afternoon.

This week is going to suck. I will literally be studying every bleeding moment and I haven't had a chance to get my hair done in a month..extra sadness. SO, posting will be slim...I'm sure there will be plenty to report after Thanksgiving at the asylum (better known as my parent's house)so stand by.

Have a good week, ya'll!

Procrastination Station...

2006-11-05T17:05:00.000-06:00

...keep at it and you'll never have an occupation.

Blame it on schoolhouse rock.

Hello internet. Welcome to Monday.

I have issues.

Don't ya just love a deadline? I do not. I hope to all that is good and pure that I can slop together enough semi-coherent garbage to garner a B on this word-vomit that is my paper, but I think that is just a little too optimistic.

That last sentence didn't really make sense, did it?

Hmmm.

So, here I am. Slacking my life away, sick as a dog (acute sinus crap) and wishing desperately that smoking a cigarette wouldn't launch me into a fit of whooping cough. Marcey came home from school for a little hiatus and she has super glued herself to my couch with a big glass of wine while I typetypetypetype away at the dining room table(insert pitiful sigh).

My question is: how are there people in the world who are, you know...driven. Where can I meet them? How can I become one of them? Why am I such a procrastinating waste of life? Can you tell me? Now, please? Also, do you have any wine? Can you give me some?

*Update: So, apparently I was drunk when I wrote this? Unfortunately, upon the customary re-reading of the paper, I realized that it is just as weird and awkward as my poor little entry...station and occupation? God help me.

You're better off reading something else.....

2006-11-02T13:21:00.000-06:00

try the back of a bag of Dorito's, the June 1997 issue of Seventeen,or your matress tag.

Seriously, I don't have anything to say. I'm just looking for a way to postpone studying, reading and writing a paper. So far, I've watched four episodes of Law and Order and organized my cd's alphabetically. Yea, I know.

It's a sickness...I should probably be in meetings.

Anyway, I just thought it was time the Halloween well wishes were replaced with something, anything else.

Nice mask! Oh, Wait! That's your face!

2006-10-31T19:19:00.000-06:00

Happy Halloween Everyone!

The Final Installment

2006-10-30T17:35:00.000-06:00

Part IV : The Ball. Yea, I can't come up with anything witty to put here.

So,I was nervous about the ball but I didn't think it would be THAT stressful. I kept telling myself "I mean, they ARE serving wine". I was also under the impression that I would be allowed to stand in the corner with Mash and make snarky comments. Instead, I was a key part of an elaborate dog and pony show. In fact, I believe I was the pony.

Yea, I was definitely the pony.

Mike: "this is Lizbet."
Person I'm being introduced to: Hi Lizbet, where are you from?
Me: Alabama
PIBIT: Ahh-luh-ba-muh? Well aren't you just... (insert southernism that will inevitably sound completely ridiculous coming out of the mouth of a dude from Jersey. Options include: a) sweeter than sugar (b)pretty as a peach (c)cute as can be. This happened four times before I started telling people I'm from Wisconsin)

I met a ton of people. It was weird because not many would look me in the eye when we were talking.I told Mike and he mumbled something about "territorial issues" and from then on I told them that I was Mikes cousin. That really pissed him off but I ain't no mans property. Unfortunately, this back fired. When they realized that I didn't "belong" to anyone they started...... um.....misbehaving. After the second person "accidentally" slapped me on the ass, I started telling people we were engaged.

It's been a while since I've been to a fraternity party and I had totally forgotten how a bunch of men act when there's booze involved. It isn't pretty.

All in all, it was fun and Mike was very polite and I had a good time. We hung out for the rest of the weekend, went to the beach and saw the base. The flight back was great compared to the one out and I came home and slept for about sixteen hours.

Tomorrow is Halloween! It's hard for me to part with candy but if it's going into the tummies of cute little children in costumes, I don't mind so much.On the upside, November will arrive with NEW and EXCITING topics! Get fired up.

Arriving Departed.

2006-10-30T09:45:00.000-06:00

Part III: "Oh, we have 12 vacancies. 12 cabins, 12 vacancies."-Norman Bates.

Well, after the free beer was passed around, everyone on the plane got trashed and we all joined in and sang kumbaya and shared a bag of pretzels. It was very reminiscent of the elevator scene in "You've Got Mail" or any of the movies where people don't know each other but are forced together because of situations out of their control and then they bond and I stopped recording the events on my vomit bag.

And then we landed.

I had totally forgotten why I was even on a plane at this point. I hadn't had anything to eat since a handful of greasy hash browns circa three a.m. , the beer had kicked in and Mash and I were just so ready to get out that we didn't give a fuck if we were about to be dropped off in the middle of the Sahara, left to wander the desert with nowhere to plug in our hot rollers.

Obviously, I flipped out a little.

I guess, to be fair, it was more like I turned the switch from "normal and slightly drunk girl on a plane" to "militant". I was not getting off. Sorry folks, party's over. I WANT TO GO HOME.

Unfortunately for me, Mash had made friends with the Marine sitting behind us (later I discovered that everyone in Jacksonville is a Marine ,so it wasn't that weird that Ashley and I were the only a)women on the plane and b) non-marines on the plane) and she un-buckled my seat belt and grabbed my carry on while he said, "I'm sorry I have to do this, but your friend asked me to and she's hot". He then proceeded to PRY MY ASS OUT OF THE SEAT AND SHOVE ME TO THE DOOR.

In retrospect, Mash did me a favor because I would later find out that a bet was made that I would be the last person off of the plane. I wasn't.... So this made me look more excited and less terrified (which wasn't the case).

SO, there I am. Off the plane. Standing on the runway, in the rain, like an idiot, while Mash gets the phone number of the dude that man-handled me off the plane "in case we need something later" ...riiiiighht. I look over to the terminal and see the reflection of myself in the mirrored windows. That would be the first of many times during the trip that I actually thought "Oh, good grief, I feel sorry for HIM." I looked exactly like someone who had slept for two hours, been up since three, laid on the floor of an airport for seven hours, and had six beers in twenty minutes.

Mash walked up and we had no choice but to go inside.

I know this sounds weird, but I don't really remember too much about meeting him and getting the luggage and getting into the car. I guess total panic had set in and so it is all very fuzzy. I DO remember him walking up to me and trying to give me a hug but he was using both hands and I was going to do the whole one-arm-hug thing and it was really awkward.

So, we left the airport and headed to THE BATES MOTEL (Attn: Marcy. see Psycho for reference). On a scale of one to ten on the "nice hotel" rank (one being the lowest) this wasn't a decimal over a 2. We were running so late that I DID NOT GET TO TAKE A SHOWER. Can you EVEN imagine how disgusting I was at this point? I washed my face and fixed my hair and make-up and dumped about a third of my perfume bottle all over my body. Then I started chain smoking.

And that's where I'll leave you.

*up next: The ball. Yup.

Fly the Friendly Skies

2006-10-29T16:04:00.000-06:00

Part II:Flight

Friday Morning:
So, I had totally forgotten how much I hate to fly. The Turbulence, the sardine-like atmosphere and the complete lack of vodka on this seven-thirty a.m. flight has put me in a mood. Also, I'm hungover and concerned about the contents of my suitcase. Last night, I decided to wait until AFTER I consumed the super large bottle of chardonnay to pack. I have no earthly idea what I put in but I have a bad feeling that its contents are little more than a dirty sock and some lip gloss.

Speaking of lip gloss, they are NOT kidding about that shit. Mash and I didn't realize that unless you have your ONE TUBE of lip gloss in a plastic bag, you cannot get through security. Like zip-lock forms some kind of protective barrier between sparkling goo and the traveling public. OH GOD, THAT WOMAN HAS A TUBE OF BONNEBELLE. HIT THE FLOOR.

Friday Night:
Aw, HELL naw.
Our flight has been delayed for seven hours because of inclement weather. We are finally on the plane. The plane had been overloaded by fifteen thousand pounds. The flight attendant has spent the last two hours begging for volunteers to take another flight. I am going to miss the ball. I am stuck on a plane. I have no alcohol. I have no paper. I am writing this on the back of A VOMIT BAG.

Wait a minute.

Yay! The Tulane track and field team has decided to drive! We're taking off! If the stupid nitwit had agreed to bump them to first class in the first place we would not be in this situation.

Stupid nitwit has since made up for stupidity and nitwittieness by announcing:
" I am tired. I am not doing the safety briefing. In the event of an emergency, well...you're screwed. Now raise your hand if you want a beer."

My empty suitcase and puke-sack journaling are no longer bothering me.

I have free airplane beer.

*More will come later, right now I'm exhausted.

Definitely Definitive.

2006-10-24T21:41:00.000-05:00

(* I've got soul, but I'm not a soldier Part II can be expected next Monday)
I'm drinking wine and watching MTV.

I drink wine almost every night so this isn't big news, the watching of the MTV doesn't happen so much. MTV just ran a particularly lame commercial encouraging its viewers (like me) to define themselves. I found this idea intriguing.

I couldn't think of anything witty or intelligent to say but I do have a story from Monday that might assist in the definition....Definitely.

In which I concuss myself.

Sooooo. Monday was a fun day, people. Fuuuunnnnn Daaaay.

I don't have class until 12:45 every day. Yea, I have such a tough life...I know. Anyway, I got in the shower around 10ish and was in the process of getting the shampoo out of my hair when the doorbell rang. My mother looooves to drop by unannounced and if my car is outside and I do not answer the door, she will break it down. I'm kind of attached to my door, it's a good door....the paint is wearing off and the knob squeaks a little but it gets the job done. I do not want my door broken down. I bolted out of the shower, dripping wet, and ran to the door.

My mother was not at the door.

A Jehovah's Witness was. There I stood, dripping wet, mortified and partially covered with a towel while my feet could. not. move. We are talking paralyzing horror here, people. I feel bad for all of the years of yelling at girls in horror movies...yes, too bad no one yelled "DON'T JUST STAND THERE YOU STUPID BITCH, RUN!"

As you can imagine, the guy at the door was equally freaked out and our conversation went a little like this:

Me: Moth--oh. Um, I thought you were my Mother.... but you aren't.
JW: No, I'm Bill. You are, um,....you were just in the shower?
Me:Yes, yes I was.
JW: Well (trying desperately hard not to look at me in the face)I just wanted to share the teachings of the Bible with you.
Me: Oh, that is nice of you but I have a Bible, its right over there...see? OK, so I kinda need to go and put some clothes on and I'd rather do that in private.
JW: Um, yea...see here's the thing, I have a quota (*what the fuck? this guy actually expected me to stand in my doorway with a towel barely covering my ass just so he could meet his quota? WRONG-O)to meet today and it would be really helpful if you'd just listen for a minute.
Me: Dude, usually I would never be this assertive but I-AM-NAKED.
JW:Yea, I see your point. Well at least take this pamphlet?
Me: Fine, thanks, goodbye.

I bet you thought that was the end of the story didn't you? You would be wrong.

The guy leaves and my phone starts to ring, but my cell is in the bathroom. During my little chat with Bill, the shower curtain was carelessly left open and my tile floor was being hosed down. Guess what happened next. I ran to the bathroom. I slipped in the bathroom. I banged my head so hard on the floor in the bathroom that I saw little stars and birdies. My eyes welled up with tears and I reached up and grabbed the phone of the counter.

Me:(choking back tears from the pain, oh, the pain!) hello?
Mom: what's wrong? Why are you crying? Where are you? Are you dead?
Me: No Mother, I just answered the door naked and now I'm laying on the floor in my bathroom with a concussion.
(*I realized later that there were a few key words that should have been left out of this sentence. They include: door, naked, floor and concussion.)
Mom:....I'm coming over now. CLICK.
Me: fuck.

By the time my Mother arrived, I was dressed and holding a bag of ice on the back of my poor hurt little noggin. It took roughly thirty five minutes to convince her that, YES! I AM responsible enough to live by myself and I PROMISE I will never answer the door again. Even if I'm fully clothed.

I've got soul, but I'm not a soldier.

2006-10-23T16:29:00.000-05:00

Part I
Fight or Flight
Special shoutout to my dermatologist who made me wait in her office for an hour and a half and then FINALLY came in and I shit you not, said, "I'm so glad you've finally decided to ignore society's standards of beauty and give up on being tan."

Wow.

My 8:00 a.m. appointment has nothing to do with this entry except that I wrote it out longhand in the waiting room.

This entry is about my anxiety about going to North Carolina with Mash for the ball. Yes. Very much anxiety, what with the not knowing this person and the not wanting to be left ALONE with him while Mash and her future husband run off to get away from us.

I have come up with a list of things that could possibly get me out of this, if anyone has any to add please let me know.

1. Fake appendicitis

2. "Lose" tickets, dress, wallet, car, toothbrush, cell phone and anything else crucial for trip.

3. Pretend to break leg.

4. Actually break leg. Options include: throwing self downstairs, jumping off roof, slamming leg in door. Extra points if it can be pulled off without scarring and if self is wasted enough while attempting "operation get a cast" to feel no pain.

5. Cry. Cry really hard. Cry to Mash. Mash will not care that self is crying, but she will go to the store and get more wine.

That's all I've come up with so far. I realize it is somewhat lacking in creativity but it is eight thirty in the f-ing morning and I had to get up at six just to get here in time to wait. I don't get creative until noonish. Also, I'm out of coffee.

Currently reading: The Penelopiad, it's by Margaret Atwood and it's basically a shortened version of Homer's Odyssey from Penelope's perspective. She breaks up Penelope's narratives with a chorus of the maids murdered upon Odysseus' return and they are my favorite part. Best lines of the book so far:

Oh gods and oh prophets, please alter my life,
And let a young hero take me for his wife!
But no hero comes to me, early or late-
Hard work is my destiny death is my fate!

Then sail, my fine lady, on the billowing wave-
The water below is as dark as the grave,
And maybe you'll sink in your little blue boat-
It's hope, and hope only, that keeps us afloat.

I guess that's all I have for today! Part II's on it's way though.
Oh, and if I do manage to break my leg I'll need input on what color cast I should pick!

Under the Sea,....and at the Mall

2006-10-21T10:51:00.000-05:00

So, my sister is in town from college and we are hanging out and watching "The Little Mermaid" because we're cool like that. We are also eating candy. Lots and lots of candy. Tonight we are going to the movies!Yay!

Caro and I loooove Ariel. When we were little, this was the ONLY Disney movie my mother wouldn't let us watch. She didn't like the fact that the Prince falls in love with a half-naked chick who cannot talk....like the only reason he's with her is because of her physical attributes. I know there's nothing wrong with raising your daughters to believe that their purpose in life is not purely aesthetic....but I don't think we would like this movie half as much if she hadn't made such a big issue out of it.

I finally found a dress for the ball! Yesterday, my mother and I drove to Atlanta and shopped for hours and hours and hours and just when I had given up and decided that "I do not f-ing care, I shall wear a garbage bag with a hole cut out for my head" I came upon the one dress in all of the south that isn't an abomination against all that is holy in the fashion world.I saw some that were just absolutely heinous. I am a little worried about the dress I picked because it's red. I mean, it looks cute on and everything....it's just that I'm very fair skinned and I dunno if I'm too pale for this little number.
Whatever.

I have five days left before I leave. I am totally freaking out.Also, he's only 5'8" and I'm 5'6" AND I'm wearing heels! I hate being taller than my date. I wish I was a short girl.

2006-10-19T17:25:00.000-05:00

Hey ya'll!

SO. Test week is officially over and I am celebrating with a massive glass of chardonnay. Plus: Grey's Anatomy tonight! Plus: Marie Antoinette tomorrow night! Good times. I would classify my mood as downright copacetic! On to the weekend, I will be shopping in Atlanta for a dress with Mommie Dearest. I know, aren't you jealous? Shut up, assholes. Hope everyone's havin' a great Thursday!

2006-10-18T10:53:00.000-05:00

As Far as I'm Concerned, Statistics can Go to Hell.

Hi people! I'm going out of my mind. I know someday I will look back on my college experience and laugh heartily at my gross overdramatization of tests but right now, I am considering faking a stroke to get out of this shit.

Yea. I know, things could be way worse. Here's the thing: bad grades aren't fun for me. I am suspicious that all of my professors have united in order to orchestrate a sort of "Senior Hell Week" and I am just a lowly pawn forced to comply with their every whim. I caught myself humming the tune to "Hong Kong Garden"..(if you haven't heard it you should get thyself to ye olde iTunes and download it, stadt!) and it isn't exactly a hummy song....it's sort of twitchy and dingy. I have also noted my tendency to jump at small noises and my inability to consume anything out of the "orange" food group (candy corn, cheetos, etc.). I feel like someone laced my coffee with speed...kinda like that chick in "Valley of the Dolls"....pretty soon I'll be wasted at a bar claiming to be the original singer in Velvet Revolver and soon after you'll see me passing out in a narsty motel, waking in time to find that I've just been molested by a bum.

I still have no dress for the ball. I guess that's OK since I feel more like "Annie Get Your Gun" than "Cinderella" anyway.

Hope everyone else is coping with daily stress better than I am!

2006-10-17T08:33:00.000-05:00

Could be worse. Could be raining.

The weather BLOWS ASSHOLE. It is cold and blustery and pouring.

The Ball is next Friday and I still have no dress. Plus, I'm kind starting to freak out about flying to North Carolina to go to a ball with someone I've never met before. This is so not like me. I mean, seriously.

My stress is compounded exponentially because of the ass load of shit I have going on this week. I am trying to "perspectify" because I am just a lowly undergrad and God only knows what kind of fiery baptism I'm going to have to endure in graduate school, BUT, I won't GET to grad school if I don't pull my stuff together this year. I think I've given myself a stomach ulcer.

SO, I have three tests and a twenty five page paper on Kosovo this week. This is the type of shit that gets me labeled a recluse. ALL of my phone conversations have gone something like this.....
Phone: ring ring ring
Me: Hello
Cleo(my good friend for as long as I can remember who is married and has a baby and finds my company entertaining): what are you doing?
Me: well, I just cleaned the entire house and organized my dining room table in preparation for study time or as I like to refer to it "the big cram".
Cleo: Oh. Wanna come over and watch the Bachelor?
Me: ....
Cleo: Fine. Will you call me when your to the blue highlighter?
(I color code my notes in order of importance with highlighters, blue is reserved for last and least important information...yes, I realize how absessive this is)
Me: well, after that I'm proofreading my paper again.
Cleo: why are you such a whacko?
Me: I think it has something to do with being the oldest of four children.

So, I've been locked in my house wondering if its possible to actually become less intelligent as the years roll by. Hmmm. Surely something fun and happy will come along soon enough and I can get out of this scarcastic rut I've been stuck in since puberty. Then again, maybe not.

2006-10-04T12:42:00.000-05:00

Oh, I almost forgot: I'm looking at dresses for the ball. So far this is the only one that looks good.

STOP THE RINGING!

2006-10-04T12:25:00.000-05:00

Hello Internet! I'm still under the weather so things have been pretty dern boring at my house. I have discovered the worst t.v. show in the known universe. It is called Reba, and if they're looking for better interrogation methods down at Gitmo this would fit the bill. Chuck Norris would break after an hour or so of this shit. I've also been skipping class like its my job. These last few days would have been completely boring if it hadn't been for the phone! People, I finally got a house line and yesterday my dad actually brought me a phone to plug into the wall! I shit you not, I have received over forty-five calls from a toll free number, three phone calls from CANADA and several from the mid west. What the hell? I haven't answered any of these calls because I don't feel like it.If anyone think's I getting off of my ass to walk across the room then they are sorely mistaken. SO, yea that's pretty much it. Fight the sickness! Drink lots of fluids and wash your hands.

*Update: Powell, WY. Ladue, MO. DC Suburb of VA. Greenwood, MS. Point Pleas, NJ are just a FEW more of the trillions of calls I have now received.

2006-10-03T19:52:00.000-05:00

Seriously?
Welcome to October. I am ill. Everyone is ill. The illness is infecting my brain. I am feeling anxiety riddled and batshit crazy and this is all compounded by the fact that I have an ass load of work to catch up on and I am really disappointed in this season's Gilmore Girls. Helllooooo run on sentence. So anyway, things suck right now. Also, I am going to a fucking ball in three weeks and I have no dress. People, seriously? Seriously.
Also, my mom sent my dad over with food to build my strength and she has totally confirmed my theory that in my family, cooking is degenerative. I'm talking a fucking onion plate. It smells like ass in here.
Anyway, so this post has absolutely no point except that I am bored off my ass and I would like to inform the good people of the internet that the movie the Lake House? FUCKING BLOWS. I want those two hours of my life back.

Someone put me out of my misery.

2006-09-17T16:05:00.000-05:00

I adopted a marine.

And I wrote to him in Iraq. And now he's coming back. And he wants me to go to the Marine Corps Ball with him. And I said yes.

Fuuuuuuuuck.

What have I gotten myself in to? I was just trying to be a good American. I GUESS I shouldn't have said yes but I HATE letting people down.

I guess I have to find a dress.

Love is A battlefield. No, I'm Serious.

2006-09-15T21:27:00.000-05:00

What is it? A feeling? An emotional connection? Sexual desire? Maybe I should preface this with the admition that I may have consumed a bottle of wine already and am sitting on my sofa with my two good friends. One is married, one is in a relationship and I....well I have a dog. We're talking about looooove. I will change their names to protect their privacy because I'm considerate like that. Aren't you impressed with my internet smarts?
I know you are.
Is there one person on the planet destined to be the person for me? OR...Are there several people who could fill the void? I don't know.Cleo thinks no but Mash things yes. I think I've been in love before. There were five years of my life dedicated to the adoration of a single soul, but now....Frankly, I don't care where he is or what he is doing. In fact, hopefully he is living in hippie commune planting corn.Does that mean that I never loved him? Viewing the situation through the lense of the pre-Socratic philosopher Parmenidies: because I adored him in the past does that void all of those feelings that I do not have presently? Love is something that occurs in the "present" and therefore cannot be understood unless one is actually experiencing "it". How do you define it? Can you? I want answers,people.
Oh, and Cleo and Mash sat "Hello".

The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

2006-09-14T20:10:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, things are running along so smoothly that you cannot help but think "wow, I'm actually doing ok right now" and you might as well walk onto a stage and scream "Macbeth" at the top of your lungs. It is a known fact that before you know it, the bottom will fall out and you will be left standing in the freezing rain wearing your favorite pants that cannot be exposed to water.

Oh, and those pants? They will be ruined and you will cry.

And then you with think "fuck". And you will drink. A Lot. Even for you.

School is piling up and I feel really guilty about missing this one class that I don't particularly care for and my friends mom died and I am sad. Welcome to depression station, all aboard!

2006-09-12T18:36:00.000-05:00

Hello Internet!
Welcome to my blog. Wow, I have a blog. I am fired up about my blog. I am the one in the green dress. My friends are all good looking.

So, I live in the south with my very small, very feisty dog. His name is Moe. I am a senior in college and hopefully I will be off to study law in the fall. Or maybe I'll be de-worming orphans in Somalia with the peace corps. Whichever.

I have a very large, very vocal family that lives alarmingly close to me. My hobbies include retreating to my house and studying for ridiculously long periods of time, shopping, drinking heavily, complaining about the weather and crying at inopportune times. These are not the most important things about me but I guess you gotta start somewhere.

I will either update frequently or not. My next entry will be very long and detailed. Get excited.