Rest in pieces

Wow, am I feeling tired today. We went to the wedding rehearsal and dinner for our friends who are getting married tonight and you'd think that wouldn't have worn me out so much, but apparently doing any activity outside the home is enough to send me into a coma at this point. I really need to get my body used to doing something besides flipping channels or I'm never going to make it as a go-go dancer in Atlantic City. The thing is that tonight is the wedding. It starts at 6:30 and I fully expect it to go pretty late because, hello, there's going to be an open bar and a room full of aging partiers. I'm really excited though. J's in the wedding party, so I'm taking the camera to get pictures of him in his penguin suit. I've seen him in a tux before, and I must say he looks quite dashing. He always reminds me of James Bond: the Pierce Brosnan years.

I just wish I could figure out what I'm going to do with my hair tonight. My bangs are growing out, so that wipes out any shot I have of looking normal. Hmmm. Suggestions?

Flea, you're no Slider, so put it away

I wish there were words adequate enough to express my dislike of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I know they're all "cool" and stuff, but I really quite hate them. I saw the video for Californication at the gym yesterday, and I wanted to hurl. All those guys in the band look like morons and if we can somehow force them to put their shirts back on, I would be ever so grateful. Anthony Kiedis or whatever his name is cannot even sing. They just bug me those guys. Ugh.

And, you know what, while I'm thinking about it, if we can just put an embargo on men walking around topless, I'd be all for that. Now, if he's at the beach or playing a sport where he's on the "skin" team, more power to him. But just walking down a street without a shirt should be outlawed. Dudes in the ghetto do this all the time, and, really, I'm not impressed by your hairless bird chest, gold chain and Superman logo tattoo, tough guy. I'd be much more inclined to take you seriously if you were wearing a polo shirt. So there.

Huggy Bear, I don't think we're in the west side anymore

Classes started here yesterday, and from what I've been able to gather by seeing these college girls walking around campus, the trend this year is to dress like an appendix, ie.) wear superfluous clothing that serves no real purpose. The mini-skirt-over-capri-jeans look is risky. You have to have guts to pull off a look like that, people. But this is an art school, so you tend to see some pretty wacky ensembles. Last year, there was a guy on campus who wore platform boots and a top hat every day. He looked like Abe Lincoln through the eyes of LSD.

Speaking of weirdness, we were under a tornado warning last night. The sirens were going off and everything. The news made it sound like our neighborhood wasn't really threatened, so it didn't worry me too much, but apparently further south, tornadoes flattened corn fields and killed a dog. I honestly can't imagine that if a tornado went through some of the neighborhoods around us that anybody would notice a difference though. Best case scenario: it would whip up the hookers and deposit them out of town.

I dunn fell on my face

I unexpectedly got invited to a bachelorette party last night. J's friends are getting married next week, so when they got into town yesterday, they filled us in on all the events going on the next few days. Hence, I found myself at the Arena district last night, dancing to Def Leppard songs until almost 1 a.m. I haven't stayed up dancing that late in YEARS. It was a lot of fun, and, frankly, I'm just surprised I could drink some vodka and not hurl. But, of course, I still woke up at 7 a.m. after getting just 4 and a half hours of sleep. Freakin' internal clock. I hate you!

Funniest story from last night: at one point, the DJ decided to play country music (why would he do that? Totally harshed my mellow) so I scurried off the floor before I got knocked down by people doing some sort of boot-scooting boogie. Unfortunately, one of the girls in our party stayed out there, slid on some spilled beer and actually landed on her face and may have broken a finger. Another perfectly good night ruined by country music...

Babe strikes back

I had a pretty violent altercation with a pound of bacon last night that has left me scarred both physically and emotionally. I decided to make breakfast for dinner...my Mom used to do that sometimes when I was a kid, and I always loved it...mostly because I am a HUGE fan of jams and jellies. Anyway, so I decided to make eggs, toast and bacon and I even made bacon the old-fashioned way on a skillet instead of in the microwave like I usually do. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten how much bacon grease pops off the skillet and how much that burns when it hits one's flesh. I won't go into too much detail, but I've got burns on my belly, foot and arm. Freakin' bacon. Next time, I'm sticking with the microwave. It may not taste as good but at least I won't be jumping around the kitchen howling in pain.

Hey, it's Friday! Yay!

Your mom goes to college

Oooh, Project Runway was good last night. That guy Jeffrey is such a jerkface! Wow, what a horrible attitude he has! I always have this idea that people who have been through rehab are all touchy-feely, in love with their inner children and hugging rainbows. Apparently not. I'm not saying Angela's mother wasn't a little annoying, but I wouldn't talk to anyone like that, much less somebody who's supposed to represent a client. But perhaps Jeffrey is trying to court the masochistic fashionistas out there as potential clients. "You look awful! You're ugly!" "Thank you!"

Good news today. My summer intern has come back to work part-time so I don't feel so much pressure to get all this work done myself. Yay! I'm not back to my schedule of surfing the web 5 hours a day, but I'll get there...one day.

Is Dwight Schrute speaking today?

I don't have much time to write this morning because I've got to head up to the auditorium in a couple minutes for our semi-annual/semesterly "all faculty and staff meeting." The pros of this meeting are that we get coffee and free lunch and a tour of the new building the college bought. The cons are that we have to sit for two hours listening to speeches and sitting in really hard, uncomfortable chairs. And I'll be the first to admit that I have a really short attention span. I can listen to somebody give a speech for approximately 36 seconds before I start zoning out. But you'd think that since I work at an art school, they'd have tons of visual aides, but nooooooo. They hardly ever even use a colored background if they use power point. For shame, you so called artists, for shame.

From the shores of the Ohio River to the banks of Lake Erie

I'm back! We had such a weekend, let me tell you. We went to the amusement park on Friday and Saturday in Cincinnati. That was a lot of fun. J's family is such a hoot to hang out with. Friday night, in particular, we teamed up with his teenage nephews and niece and his older brother and rode about 8 roller coasters in 40 minutes. It was only my fear of looking like an idiot in front of my in-laws that kept me from puking my guts out in front of everybody.

The sad part of the weekend was that my uncle in Cleveland died on Thursday, so we also drove up to Cleveland on Sunday and came back last night. It was actually really great to see all my relatives up there, and some of them hadn't met J yet, so that part was good, but it was still sad to say goodbye to my uncle. He was my Dad's sister's husband and just about the nicest man ever. I also learned that he had a purple heart from WWII. I never knew that. It's weird to find out that fascists once shot a family member. But he survived. Take that, Mussolini!

Anyway, I slept from about 9 last night until 6 this morning. And that's good because I have a lot of work to do today. Classes start on Monday and that means a) I have to get the images ready for teachers and b) I won't be able to wear jeans to work anymore. That second one may not sound like such a burden, but I seriously have to find some pants to wear to work. All those Pink sweatpants I just ordered ain't going to do me one lick of good. Dang it.

3 G's!

J's sister got some discounted tickets to Kings Island for this weekend, so we'll be heading down there to ride some roller coasters and make ourselves sick from dizziness and funnel cakes. Kings Island (for those of you who have never heard of it) is very much like Carowinds in North Carolina or Kings Dominion in Virginia. In fact, I think they're all owned by the same company. I'm excited to go because it's something different and I do love the roller coasters, but it's funny how I would have been 10 times more excited when I was 13. There's something about getting older that makes me say "Yeah, I want to go and I think it'll be fun. But I'm just too tired to try to ride every ride in the park. If I hit 3 or 4 roller coasters and find a good slushie, I'm all set." I'm such a grandma sometimes. But I am very excited to go. I hear Kings Island got a few new roller coasters recently, and if they have one of those where you sit and hang from the track, I'm positive I'll love it. The Raptor at Cedar Point? Best roller coaster ever!

I'll go Oedipus on your @%#

I'm still not feeling too hot today. The sore throat and achiness have set up camp in my head and neck, so I'm trying to co-exist with them as best I can. I really don't feel bad enough to stay home when I have all this work to do to get ready for the first day of classes, too. So instead, I'm going to sit here all day and tell everybody how sick I feel. My coworkers are going to LOVE this!

Did you guys see that dude who confessed to the JonBenet Ramsey murder? Creeeeepy! For such a young man, he sure wears the waistband of his pants like an octogenarian, up under the armpits. And, frankly, I always get suspicious of men who are that skinny. That prominent adam's apple, bobbing up and down every time they talk--it freaks me out! Something about that man's eyes are really eerie, too. I can pretty much guarantee you that if I met that dude in a dark alley, I'd be grabbing my keys and waving them towards his eyes and telling him "Give me a reason."

New! Diet Coke with Vanilla Sudafed!

Apparently I've developed something against ragweed in the past year. I was up from about 2:30 to 5 last night with a sore throat and headache. It's possible I've caught a cold, but nobody I know is sick, so I'm thinking it's more of an allergy thing. This has got to be karma getting back at me, because I make fun of people with allergies all the time. It's true. I get very annoyed with people who can't adapt to their surroundings. It violates all human biological and evolutionary principles! But because I've been such a jerk, now I'm saddled with the sore throat. Fine. But I'm still going to make fun of people with allergies and call them poindexters. Take that, mother nature!

I hate it when guys sing like wussies

I finished reading a mystery last night and realized that in the past couple books I've read (by different authors, mind you), there's been a male character who was prissy, well-dressed and manicured who wound up butchered by a psycho. I think there's a connection here. I gotta tell you, I have trouble relating to men who get pedicures and are better accessorized than I am. I can completely understand some strategic eyebrow plucking in a man, gel in the hair, basic sort of stuff like that. But I don't think I could ever seriously date a man who got facials on a regular basis and not laugh at him. This is either my old-fashioned, Midwestern upbringing coming out, or it's just that I'm pretty low-maintenance myself. But if J ever starts going to the spa on his own and coming home expounding the virtues of algae rubs and cashmere socks, we're going to have a talk.

Hey, chicken!

We went to Dayton yesterday because my uncle was in town, so we headed over in the morning and spent the afternoon and evening at my sister's. It was a purely delightful time seeing everybody and playing with nephew #2, but the consequence of all that running around and hiding from him is that I am totally exhausted. Seriously, how do people keep up with their kids? I'm sure it hits me harder because I'm not used to it and I'm so aged, but even when I was 22, I don't think I could have run around in circles in my sister's basement for 20 minutes straight, waving my arms and screaming. The good thing is that I don't feel bad for skipping my workout yesterday. Lifting a 2-and-a-half-year-old has got to be equal to doing a rep of seated bench presses. Feel the burn!

The streets run red with Burgundy's blood!

I had that focus group last night and it was the easiest $80 I ever made. Plus, I got a free Sierra Mist out of it. You gotta like that. The group was about 10 people, male and female, all different ages, talking about doctors and nurses they'd recently seen at the same hospital. The most interesting part to me was how the men were almost all like "Yep, I just had quadruple bypass surgery" or "I went through the car of my windshield" but their responses to the questions were all like "it was no big deal...I'm fine...no big whoop." But then there were a couple women in there who would talk and talk and talk for 20 minutes about an upset stomach. This one woman, in particular, would not shut up. She'd wax poetic about the state of American health care, and the moderator of the group kept trying to interrupt her, but she could not be stopped. She claimed to have asthma, but I don't see how that's possible considering she never took a breath the whole time she was there because she was talking so much. Liar!

I'm just so glad it's Friday. I had quite a bit of trouble getting myself out of bed today. If it weren't for the fact that Wubby will start to meow plaintively if he doesn't get his sink water, I probably would have stayed in bed an extra 10 minutes today. That cat. It's a good thing I love him so much.

Shake your thing and violate it

Is there any time less fun than the half hour you wait between when you took your ibuprofen and when it finally kicks in? Gah. I am such a wuss.

I had this grand plan last night to switch back and forth between Project Runway, South Park and Sex and the City at 10:00 so I could at least catch snippets of each show. Then I, of course, fell asleep on the couch at promptly 9:55. That is fantastic. If anybody wants to fill me in on who got kicked off PR, please do so. I'm dying of curiosity. I know I can catch the rerun soon, but I still want to know right now!

I got a call last night from my doctor's offering me $80 to go to a focus group tonight for two hours because they want some feedback on some computer programs or something. She told me what they were, but I wasn't paying attention because I immediately starting calculating how many shirts I could buy with that much money. I'll report back tomorrow and let you know how it went. Hopefully they won't try to do any experiments on me. I don't want anybody finding out that I can change my Rh protein at will or I might be persecuted as a mutant. I am the future!

Big Moo got the fifth

I just got back from the gym, where I was reading an old Glamour magazine. One particular tidbit stood out to me: their report that Jennifer Aniston once paid $6000 a month to trainers and nutritionists to get her into shape. $6000. Holy cow. Look, I get disgusted by My Sweet Sixteen just like everybody else, but this really made me stop and think. You realize what kind of mansion you could get for $6000 a month? Using my current car payment as a gauge, I could have bought 40 of them for that much money. You could feed a starving child McDonald's three times a day for three years with $6000. And she spends it on a trainer to lose weight and reduce her body fat from 8% to 2%. What the f. What the effing f.

The cheese stands alone

I am terrified of getting on the scale right now. My loose jeans feel tight and this tshirt keeps scrambling up toward my diaphragm as if scared of my expanding belly. I assure you, I'm not pregnant or getting large for any good reason. I just ate too much this weekend. When you wake up on a Sunday, bloated like an elephant seal, and you realize you and your husband just ate 2/3 of a blackberry pie in 24 hours, it's time to seek help. That Irish festival on Saturday didn't help matters either. Kettle corn, cinnamon pecans, lemonade slushies...I swear, fair food is a pox. A pox upon my will power!

But, you know, the more I think about this, the less I'm actually worried. I can still fit into my clothes, so it's really no big deal. I've been pondering a lot lately these thin people I know who are always trying to lose 5 pounds, and I've concluded I don't want to be like that. That's no fun. So I'll try to keep my homemade mac & cheese consumption to a minimum, but, other than that, I'm going to focus on better things. Like getting a haircut. You realize it's been about 7 months since I got a haircut? I seriously can't even reach the ends of it when I'm combing in the morning. I'm Crystal Gayle!

Woof!

I woke up at 2:45 this morning and didn't fall back asleep until close to 5. Yeah, I know. And to top off the fact that I was having insomnia, a neighbor's dog started barking around 4 and kept up the constant barking for over half an hour. Now, I realize I am a cat person more than a dog person, but I love dogs nonetheless. So you know it's a bad sign when I start daydreaming about shooting sharp tranquilizer darts at a dog to shut it up. I won't blame an owner because their dog barks, but I do blame owners for not bringing a dog inside when it's been barking nonstop for over 5 minutes at 4 a.m.. I have my limits, people.

The good news is that it's almost lunchtime. We're having sliced strawberries and bananas for our fruit today. This is making me giddy with anticipation!

Maybe I do want to be a French fry!

Has anybody else seen that commercial for Burger King's chicken fries where all the chickens are sitting on a stoop, and the one chicken has all the French fries around him? And the other chickens are taunting him saying "Maybe you want to be a French fry!" and the chicken keeps saying "Maybe I do." Something about that commercial cracks me up. I don't know if it's how they animate the chickens talking or if it's the voices or what, but I find it completely hilarious. It's way better than the hucking chicken, that's for sure.

I thought I thaw a puttythat

In case anybody missed me this morning, I was at a library conference all day with the rest of the staff. It was a nice conference. They fed us tons of food, and that alone is enough to keep me happy. We had to drive a couple hours to Bluffton this morning. I saw lots of corn on the way. Driving past those small towns always makes me wonder what it's like to grow up in a place like that. No movie theatres, no bowling alleys, no malls, what is there for a restless pre-teen to do? Especially when I was growing up in the 70's before cable, I think I would have developed quite an interest in bird watching if I'd been a child in Bluffton. And now I'm wondering if in 18 years there will be any bird watchers left...and watching birds on tv doesn't count, kids! It's not the same! Kids.

Carrots

I was at Kroger the other night picking up my usual mid-week essentials: paper towels, milk, Twizzlers, etc.... When I was in the parking lot putting my bags away, I heard a car pull up behind mine in the aisle, music blaring, so I turned around to look, and all of a sudden, a girl hops out of the passenger side and runs to the driver's side. And she was wearing a bikini. No sarong, shorts or shoes, just a plain black bikini. A boy jumped out of the driver's side and got in on the passenger side, so I assume they had to switch drivers for some reason. But I still can't make sense of driving around town in a bikini. Is it THAT hot out there? Are we all just going to start driving nude now? Cause I really don't think that sounds very comfortable. And, girl, if you just came from the pool and your bathing suit's wet, you are just asking for a yeast infection. I don't like to think of myself as a prude, but I won't even wear sweatpants to Target, much less drive around town in what basically amounts to underwear in terms of coverage. I feel so old. It's like I used to identify with Anne in Anne of Green Gables, but I think now I'm gettin to be like old, sour Mrs. Pringle. Fantastic.

I'm concerned about this hemline

I've been up since 4:45 this morning. I think my body realizes how hot it is during the day and is trying to encourage me to get things done before the sun rises. As much as I appreciate the thought, I wish my body would shut it. Sleep-deprived and sweaty is not the look I'm going for.

It was pretty hot in the house when I got up. As is his new custom, Wubby was splayed on the hardwood floor with his eyes half closed, trying as hard as he could not to move a milimeter. That poor cat. I keep telling him to go down into the basement where it's cool, but he just won't listen. I think he's as afraid of the basement as I am. One day I'm going to shake the thought that a psychotic ax murder lives in the closet down there, but for now, I'm erring on the side of caution.

I'm really hoping that something good is on tv tonight. The last couple weeks have just been a wasteland of horrible reality shows. Is Project Runway on tonight? Bravo has been a lifesaver this summer. Thank goodness for Kathy Griffin and Tim Gunn.

Is there a Klingon word for "douchebag?"

As far as I know, I don't suffer from any seasonal allergies. But for some reason, I woke up this morning feeling like somebody shoved a cork up the right side of my nose. A cork dusted with cayenne pepper, no less, because it's itchy and uncomfortable. I feel like re-enacting that scene from Total Recall where Arnold Schwarzenegger shoves a probe up his nose to remove a tracking device. Which, to be honest, was still not as traumatic as watching that poor guy get a weevil stuck in his ear in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. Everybody talks about the scene where Shatner yells "Khaaaaaan!" in that movie, but the brain-eating weevil was what stuck with me. And when Spock died at the end, that was sad. My favorite Star Trek movie was the one with the whales, and Chekov was going around asking about "nuclear wessels." Ahhh, that was good Cold War humor. Wait a second, wow, that was quite a geek tangent! I need to stop myself before I start expounding on the virtues of Farscape. I gotta go find some Sudafed anyway.