Look at his white socks and booties! Look!

Behold! The Wooby J. Meow-Meow! I thought it was about time I introduced the world to the wonder of the Wooby. Lest you think he's a jolly cat, I should tell you that he's just squinting in this picture because of the camera flash. Wooby is many things, but smiley is not one of them. J got him when he was a kitten about 4 years ago, and back then he was known as Tyler. He now goes by many names, including Woobley, Woobis, and Jooby Way. And right now, he's probably at home sleeping on a blanket, cause the Woobs loves blankets. Awww.

I just realized that I left the two tea bags in the cup of tea I've been drinking for the past hour. Well, if that doesn't get me some much-needed antioxidants, I don't know what will.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed that my brother's family made it to Chicago ok, and that Ashrey and Mark are safely ensconced in the spicy bosom of the South. May you all have run into cheap gas pumps on your travels!

Hey, do you cats realize it's almost October? When did that happen??

WHINING ALERT

I promised myself that I wouldn't use this space to complain about being sick today, but I feel so cruddy I'm going to do it anyway. You can't stop me! This is how you can tell that I'm not feeling at all well: when I go to Tim Horton's for lunch and instead of getting a donut and pop, I get a sandwich, soup and hot tea. Insanity! But that tea was delicious. Apple cinnamon...mmm. The soup (cream of potato bacon) was only so-so. It had a flavor in there that I just couldn't identify. I wonder if anybody has ever tried to make donut soup?

I'm telling you, if it wasn't Thursday I'd go home early. But Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday are my busiest days in here. And teachers only show up after 11 a.m.. The teachers at this school may not get paid a lot, but you have to admit that having hours of 11-3 Tuesday through Thursday ain't a bad payoff. I'm just saying.

And whoever thought of stretch corduroy pants was a genius.

I'm 31. Whee!

Yep, today's my birthday. From what my Mom tells me, I wasn't born until about 11:30 at night on this date in 1974. I think that was the last time I was up that late.

As people are wont to do, everybody's been asking me if I feel any older. Not really. I don't feel any wiser, achier or more forgetful either. 31's a pretty unremarkable birthday, actually. But as a coworker pointed out, I am happier this year than I was last year, so that's quite nice. I just feel fortunate that I've never been one of those people who have a list of things they want to accomplish by a certain age. All I know is that I'd really prefer to have my student loans paid off before I'm 50. That would rule.

Mucus update: I am currently in the "nasal congestion" phase of my cold. I keep hearing clicks in my ears when I swallow. What the? And this cold medicine is making my head cloudy (whenever I structure a sentence that way, it always, always makes me say in my head "These pretzels are making me thirsty!!" Damn you, Seinfeld).

I almost killed a crack whore on my way to work this morning

It's true. As we were coming into work, two women were attempting to cross the street and instead of going at a crosswalk or waiting for a break in traffic, they just darted across a whole bunch of oncoming cars. One woman made it across, but the other stopped on the double yellow line and just stood there in the middle of the road. I hit my brakes to let her pass, and as we got closer to her we noticed she looked ROUGH. Greasy hair, face breaking out, old, baggy clothes. Plus, she seemed pretty unsteady on her feet. So, being the warm and fuzzy people we are, J and I concluded they were two crack whores heading back to their stairwells after a long night of work. This is what living in the ghetto does to you: makes you think everybody's on drugs and you spend half your day trying to spot the hookers on the street.

As I age, I try to avoid political discussions because it pretty much always turns out I'm the most liberal person in the room (except when sister Slappy's with me) and everybody turns on me like rabid wolves, but I just have to mention this. I saw on ABC this morning that President Bush asked Americans yesterday to conserve fuel as much as possible. And then he and his motorcade went 5 miles to dinner with 5 SUV's and 6 vans that (altogether) would have cost about $600 to fill up with gas. Ok, what the heck is that? Can you please just eat in for a while there, George? Huh? Could you help us out? Order a pizza maybe? Hmm?

Fate Hath Zinged Me

Apparently, that headache I had yesterday wasn't just a cry for help from my stomach. I woke up at 3 this morning with a sore throat and congestion, took some Nyquil to fall back asleep, but now I'm feeling pretty blech. See, this is what I get for posting the other day about using sick time for superfluous reasons. Darn you and your twisted vengeance, universe!

But it could be much worse. Right now, I'm just feeling tired and mucoid (I just made that up!). I remember when I first moved to Columbus, I'd just gotten over a bout of West Nile Virus (I swear that's what I had. I got some mosquito bites when I moved from Columbia and then got super sick in Dayton about a week later. West Nile, I'm telling ya), and then I came down with tonsilitis. Picture it, spring of 2003, me in my office, wearing a shirt, sweater and two jackets, with my head propped up against my monitor for half an hour until my doctor's appointment, trying not to move. Pitiful. But I figure getting some cold medicine at lunch will fix this up right quick. No worries.

And for some reason, a tuna melt sounds good to me. I don't usually eat tuna melts. Weird.

Tropical Storm Stewie

Due to the fact that I have a headache (from, I assume, eating a Super Pretzel and cashews for lunch...I know, I know, I'm an idiot) and posting these entries on J's computer kills my eyes because the screen's so small, I'm going to keep this short. I'm very glad to hear that hurricane Rita wasn't as bad as people were predicting although it pains me that New Orleans got flooded again. If I believed that everything happened for a reason, I'd wonder what New Orleans did to deserve this, but since I don't think like that, I'm just writing it off to some SERIOUSLY bad luck. And, really, if any city deserves that kind of treatment, it's Ft. Worth, not New Orleans. The whole "God is punishing that den of sin" excuse isn't going to work this time, people!

I'm so excited The Simpsons and Family Guy are both new tonight! Hey, if anybody can find out how much that new Stewie DVD costs, lemme know. I love me some Stewie. "It's not so much that I want to kill her...it's just...I want her not to be alive anymore."

Man, today is going in, like, dog years

I have a serious case of the "My God, is it 4:30 yet?"s. To the point where I look at the clock, see I have over an hour to go, and my head falls sharply backward and I emit groans of agony. You'd think I was being stabbed. The truly sucky part is that this has been going on since Wednesday. That is not good. Makes me think I need to take a vacation day sometime soon.

I have found that the world is made up of two kinds of people: people who believe in taking sick days when perfectly fine and people who don't. I am the former. Not that I call in sick for no reason all that often. In fact, since I moved to Columbus, most of my sick time has been taken for various upper respiratory infections (damn you, Ohio winters!). But I'm not going to lie to you, sometimes it's perfectly ok to wake up and say to yourself, "I might be sick. I might not. Better to err on the side of caution." Cause there's no telling if you would have come down with polio at 10:00 a.m..

Now, Edward and Selma, that was a good couple

I really don't know why this is on my mind today (...maybe because my brain is just plum tuckered out from analyzing the Lost from last night. Good episode. The wig department needs to be laid off, but the show was fantastic), but I keep wondering what happened to Pink. Remember back when she first came out, and she had the fluorescent pink hair and sang soul/hip-hop music and even danced? And then she found her "independence" (and by that, I'm thinking "bottle of 151" would be more accurate) and became that angry, punk chick? What exactly happened there? And where is she now? I've seen plenty of female singers in my time go from innocent to skanky and they manage to stick around, but I think somewhere along the line there, Pink just got a little too weird.

I'm developing this theory that people who come off really angry are actually just mad because they don't have a very good personality. Have you ever seen Pink in an interview? She seems pretty normal but also kinda, well, blank. I think that's how she and Tommy Lee were able to date: they were both so vapid that they didn't notice each other's inanity. Although this theory is completely blown apart by the coupling of Edward Norton and Courtney Love. Back to the drawing board!

Matthew Fox vs. Tiramisu

Nobody can ever accuse me of not having priorities. Sure, they're not good priorities, but they are priorities nonetheless. J and I were discussing this morning whether we should bring one or two cars to work today because he needs to go out after work and buy some dirt bike parts. And in my head I'm saying "I have to go to the store tonight, hit the ATM, cook dinner, call Poppy and still be home in time for Lost's premiere at 9. Motorcycyle parts be damned!" So we drove separately. I feel conflicted: I know I ought to savor every moment that I can get with J, but we're talking about Lost here! Locke's ambiguity! Claire's pretty hair! Sawyer's obnoxiousness! It simply cannot be missed. I even suggested to J that even though my birthday is next week on Wednesday that we go out to eat on a different night so I don't miss my program...although I may just try to figure out my VCR this weekend and tape it. Cause when we're talking about birthday dinner, we're talking about the potential for cake, and we all know that cake trumps tv every time. Priorities.

Does this entry make me look fat?

I finally got some good Mexican food last night at this place called "On the Border"...or was it "At the Border?" Huh. Anyway, all I know is that if I don't get some good refried beans every few months or so, I start to go into withdrawal. I don't speak the espanol, but that stuff was mucho tasty. I know my Mom would disagree with this as she has seen my reaction to rhubarb, but I'm really not a picky eater. As long as it's greasy, cheesy, sugary, cream-filled or fried, I'll like it. I'm quite easy to please.

Speaking of easy, anybody else see the pictures in a British tabloid of Kate Moss snorting coke through a 5-pound note? And the things they're publishing about her and her drug-fueled lesbian orgies? Heh. That's hilarious. I mean, it goes without saying that I am horribly concerned about her health since she's a fellow human being, etc... but I feel so vindicated. I just knew those supermodels were crackheads. I just knew it! There's no way someone stays that skeletal into their 30's without being on some sort of substance. I worry a teensy bit that the pictures of ol' Kate will glamorize cocaine for the youngsters, but anybody who admires Kate Moss needs to reprioritize anyway. Yeah, I said it.

I Could Go for a Nerds Rope Right Now

This weekend was just jam-packed with activity. So much so that I didn't even have the energy to watch the Emmy's. I usually try to at least catch some red carpet coverage and the big awards, but I couldn't reach the remote from my position on the couch, so I just stayed with Fox's Sunday lineup. Really though, awards shows are getting increasingly difficult for me to watch because they seem so self-important. Any discussion that involves "Nicolette Sheridan" and "Emmy" in the same sentence just seems wrong. On the other hand, I will always enjoy checking out what people wore. When I got into work this morning I checked a couple websites to see who looked the worst. Jennifer Garner, I'm looking in your direction. I used to love that girl, but ever since she got knocked up by Ben Affleck, I feel bewildered and betrayed. I know I should be happy for her and her "pregnancy glow," but I just keep thinking "Why does everyone involved with Ben Affleck (including Ben himself) get such a fat head?" It's perplexing.

And William Shatner, I like you and your spoken word vocalizations, but you stole that Emmy from Terry O'Quinn! Stole it like a Dickensian ragamuffin!

We had a wonderful birthday celebration yesterday with my Mom, two sisters and their families. My two little nephews who are 20- and 21-months-old are just so freaking cute! And apparently both have very high tolerances for swings. Me, I was nauseous after three minutes, but they could go for hours. Curiously strong the inner ears of children.

And we went to Columbus Motor Speedway on Saturday night and watched some car racing. It was fun, and I'm glad I broke out of my surburban-shopping-mall-and-Applebee's-for-dinner existence. However, I'm also glad it was only for one night. I simply would not enjoy a life spent amongst exhaust fumes, dirty flip-flops and little boys with shaved heads AND bangs. What is that??

I Go by "QTip"

I'm feeling very proud of myself today. Not just because I got a bunch of errands done this morning and worked out so hard that I almost made myself puke...wow, what have I become that I'm now proud I exercised so hard I almost vomited? Who am I?? No, the real reason I'm feeling self-satisfied today is because J and I went to dinner with his brother, wife and their two daughters last night at Damon's, home of that electronic trivia game, and I smoked some @#%! Once I joined the game, I got the first question right and never looked back. Even won a tshirt. Of course, the shirt is waaaay too big, but I shall wear it to work out and always think back fondly on knowing that the Czech Republic is landlocked, John Huston directed Night of the Iguana, Sideshow Bob married Selma, and platinum is a metal. And in some odd sign that fate was on my side last night, I correctly guessed that a character in Slaughterhouse 5 survived the bombing of Dresden during WWII. Huh. You might be asking yourself, "Sure, that's great you won a tshirt at a trivia game, but wouldn't you rather trade that in for a real talent like singing or drawing?" And my answer to that would be "YOU BETCHA." Cause, really, nobody's ever going to give me a Nobel Prize for this stuff. Son of a.

A Festival of Infectious Disease (and this time I'm not referring to Britney)

I saw on the news yesterday that three mice infected with the bubonic plague bacteria are missing from a lab in New Jersey. I doubt anything catastrophic will come of it, but I actually think the plague is pretty fascinating...of course, ask me about it again if I ever catch it, and I'm sure I won't be so enthusiastic. I read this book last year about the plague. It was set in both Medieval Europe and present-day England and explored what the "black death" was like back then and if there was an outbreak now. Dude, I think it can be summed up in one word: Ouch! That was a seriously bad way to go. It wasn't bad enough that you were so sick you couldn't breathe, eat or think, but you also got the pussy, black buboes on your neck and joints. Man. That would suuuuck! On the other hand, "buboes" is fun to say. I also believe it was the name of the owl in one of my favorite movies as a child: Clash of the Titans. I see that movie now and cringe at the special effects, but, man, it was cool in the early 80's. Medusa was a beeyotch!

But back to the subject at hand, have you ever heard of ergotism, also known as St. Anthony's fire? An art history professor was teling me about it yesterday. Another horrible, grotesque way to die. It was a Medieval disease that people got by eating rye bread with fungus on it. The fungus would poison them to the point they'd start convulsing, have horrible hallucinations, and their body parts would feel like they were burning until they eventually dropped off. Geez oh man. Some people think the Salem witch trials were actually a result of ergotism. Huh. All I know is that I have got to stop collecting weird diseases for my mental encyclopedia of Horrible Ways to Die. It's really quite morbid, but I can't seem to stop. Ever read a description of what Civil War soldiers went through since there were no antibiotics back then? Gah.

Bite me, Amaya

I see Britney Spears gave birth yesterday. To a boy named Preston. Ok, I really don't know what my deal is with this, but I have a blinding, seething, grainy hatred of names like that: yuppie names, first names that should be last names (Connor, I'm looking in your direction), names for girls that are traditionally boys' names, etc.... It just drives me nuts. And if you ever find me talking about naming a child of mine after a person on the Real World, you'll know I need to be heavily dosed with Paxil...stat. I'm getting so annoyed with this trend that I'm seriously considering having children named Stanley, Marvin and Eulalia. Take that, cool kids! Yeah, I'm talking about you, Madyson!

As I was waiting at my brother-in-law's house last night for J to finish networking some computers, I saw that AMC was airing Two Week's Notice and When Harry Met Sally back-to-back. Dude, is that a great lineup or what? It goes without saying that those are two of my favorite movies, and I think they're just delightful, but I noticed last night another reason why I am so drawn to them: the female characters are actually smart. Sandra Bullock plays a Harvard-educated lawyer and Meg Ryan is a U. of Chicago grad and journalist. I think that's fantastic. And that is also why I wouldn't cry one bit of Jessica Alba was actually eaten by a shark in real life. Seriously. I really wouldn't mind.

In other news, I want to extend a couple hefty shout-outs (or is it "shouts-out"...?) of "Congratulations" to my friend Poppy for finishing her novel in fine fashion, to my friend Arisa for landing a great job, and to my friend Ashrey for getting Tivo. Rock on, sisters sledge.

To all budding transcendentalists out there

Yesterday I was having a very interesting discussion with two of my favorite art history professors about French philosophy (before I sound too proud of myself, my contributions to the conversation went along the lines of "I had to read Sartre in my high school French class. It blew."). But we were talking about Camus's idea of "authentic decisions" and his belief that people should only make decisions based on what they think at that moment...not based on any outside moral code or what one thinks one ought to do. I really like his suggestion that people examine and analyze for themselves what is right and wrong instead of just going along with what other people, texts or Oprah say. Right on.

But then it occurred to me how difficult that must be when you're a parent. Now, if you have intelligent children, you'll probably be fine encouraging them to think for themselves and trusting they'll make good decisions. But what if your kid is a moron? What then? Am I the only person out there who is worried that I'll have a child who's an idiot and will therefore have no idea how to parent them? Could I sound like more of a jerk?

And, just as a P.S. here, I got a really cute pink, rhinestone bracelet at Target last night. And I watched House on Fox. I just love that show! I was really proud of L.L. Cool J for not licking his lips once during any of his scenes. I dig the guy, but that lip-licking thing he does skeeves me out.

Kelly Clarkson would understand

I am feeling a trifle annoyed right now. Three weeks ago, I won a pair of jeans from an auction on ebay, and I haven't gotten them in the mail yet. The other day, I emailed the seller, inquired as to their whereabouts and didn't get a response. So I just looked at her feedback on ebay and saw that she has apparently disappeared with my $8 and a bunch of other people's money. Dude. That's just not right. But, honestly, $8 is not that much money and I have some other jeans. What really bothers me is that those jeans were a size 6, and I really wanted some size 6 jeans. They were going to be my SEXY jeans. I still have some size 4's from when I wasn't eating, but those jeans cause the very unfortunate "muffin tops" effect to occur. Ewww. Ah well, I guess it just wasn't meant to be.

Consider this though: I could have gotten about 12 shirts at Forever XXI for that $8. That'll teach me to trust people over sweatshop-driven clothing companies. I've learned my lesson.

Grody

Man, it was hard waking up this morning. I had some nasal blockage last night and took a Benadryl to relieve it, so that knocked me out completely. I remember waking up at 3 and looking at the alarm clock, but then I actually fell back asleep. Which, really, for me is a mental victory. If it wasn't for the anti-histamine, I would have been up for three hours. Score! Anyway, I had a really weird dream last night that I was in this classroom full of people, Alec Baldwin was our teacher, and we all had to pick up a tarantula in order to pass the class. But I couldn't do it because I was too scared, so finally J did it for me, and I was able to leave. And then I found out afterward that they had removed the fangs from the spiders before our class, so they wouldn't have bitten us, which was my primary reason for not wanting to touch the beasts. Hmph. Sneaky. But this was truly more comphrehensible than my dream the previous night where J and I were living in Alaska right before the sun disappeared and we got a job removing ice sculptures of elves from outside city hall for $79. I have a really bizarre subconscious. Oh, and we went and saw War of the Worlds last night. Good movie. We agreed that being vaporized would be a much better death than having the blood sucked out of you then sprayed on your backyard. Not a tough call, that.

You're eating your mascot!

It is Saturday. It is 1:19 p.m., and I am sitting in the library. It is quiet. Too quiet. Seriously, it usually is ultra-slow in here on Saturdays. You get a few kids sketching near the windows, a few on the computers, and always a lucky one or two that is kicking the color copier because it messed up his interior design homework or some such nonsense. No, I care, I really do. Pfft. Frankly, I'm just looking forward to getting out of here at 5, going to J's nephew's birthday party and then watching the Ohio State v. Texas game tonight. J and I were out at dinner last night and saw many, many Texas fans being heckled over their hamburgers. Honestly, these Buckeye fans were taunting them by trying to spell out "O-H-I-O" with their arms, but they were so plastered that they just kept shaping the letter "O." Sad. I have no love for the Longhorn, but that really did nothing to improve our team's image either. Geesh.

scarves...my crack habit

I'm disproportionately excited today because I have the afternoon off from work, and I'm planning on going shopping. Whee! See, here at the library, we're open normal hours Monday through Friday and also Saturday afternoons. But only one person has to be here on Saturday, so we all take turns and thusly usually work 2 or 3 Saturdays each semester. Which could suuuuck, but our boss is nice enough to let us have the Friday afternoon off the day before. And for me, that spells Forever XXI, Old Navy and/or Target to buy accessories. Nice. I'm also planning on giving myself a quasi-pedicure ("You're quasi-evil. You're semi-evil. You're the Diet Coke of Evil...just one calorie, not evil enough") and taking a nap. Didn't sleep so well last night. I don't want to name names, but SOMEBODY was snoring. I kid, I kid. Colds will do that to ya.

Those are some serious fists of fury

Last night we were watching Fists of Fury on DVD. Enjoyed it immensely. But there are some things about that whole genre of 70's martial arts flicks that are so over the top, you can't help but laugh. For instance, towards the end of the movie when Bruce Lee's character is fighting a group of bad guys at the factory, we are to believe that he hits one man soooo hard that the poor sap actually goes through a wooden factory wall and leaves a hole the exact shape of his body, arms outstretched, legs spread, the whole nine yards. Very Tom & Jerry-esque. And there was another movie in this set of DVDs that starred Sonny Chiba as an ancient ninja who was able to balance his fully-grown identical-twin sons standing on his shoulders. Right. I'm sure ancient Japan defied the laws of both gravity and biology. You bet. Just struck me as interesting that when it's done artfully a la Crouching Tiger, it seems cool, but when it's set to 70s funk music, it just seems goofy. Curious.

The Fashion Sins of the Mother...

So the woman who owns the house next door to me seems like a fine member of the community. Sure, she wears hooker clothes to mow the lawn, but I blame that on the 80's more than I blame her. She goes to work, she keeps her house as nice as she can, she seems ok all around. Her daughter, on the other hand, has the ability to make me nauseous. And I've never even talked to her. The daughter...let's call her Porch Chop. She's 19 and a few weeks ago she gave birth to a baby boy. Joyous, yes? Except for the fact that she has been spotted in the last few days walking around her lawn wearing jeans and a tube top. Ladies, I'm all for being proud of your body, but nobody...and I mean NOBODY should be sporting a tube top 3 weeks after giving birth. Yes, I'm old-fashioned. Yes, I'm pretty square. But I feel like I should point out that I was totally cool with Demi Moore getting on Vanity Fair naked while she was pregnant. I just don't want to see it in my front yard, you dig?