I am Busy and Important.
I am kicking ass and taking names at work. Things went very, very well today, for the most part.
The downside of the day was when my Head Supervisor (caplitalized for emphasis) replied to my e-mail reminding her that I'd requested to take Friday as a PTO day by saying that "since the agency is now closed on Thursday and you and Jane (not her real name) are out on Monday afternoon, we may have to move your PTO day to another date." That was quite disappointing, and I went to my Favorite Supervisor to seek his wise advice.
Well, and to whine because I am not, in fact, out on this upcoming Monday afternoon--that'd be Monday the 11th, not the 4th. He said "Don't worry, it'll be fine." He moved onto this account a week before I did, so we're learning together, and bitching along the way.
The agency is closed on Thursday so that we can attend the funeral for the daughter of one of the agency employees. This is very sad, but it makes me really, really like the people I work for, because not many companies would shut the entire office and still pay the employees so that they could support their co-worker.
At any rate, we have a Beastly Project that has been looming over our heads for a MONTH. However, the client has given us direction, and we are on track to deliver it quickly and perfectly. Of course, I am one of the two people working on this project, and since my partner in crime is swamped with OTHER work, it's all me this week. And so, my Second Favorite Supervisor told me at 4 that I still get to have Friday off (good, because I already made plans that would be difficult to change).
I just have to come in on Thursday while the office is closed to finish this project that's due on Friday.
Instead, I opted to stay until 7 PM tonight, and I busted out half of the project, e-mailed a status update to my Partner in Crime and my Second Favorite Supervisor (which conveniently notes that I left the office at 7 freaking PM). I should have no trouble busting out the second half before I leave the office tomorrow evening, which means I do not have to come into the office on Thursday. Plus, this project gives me face time with my Second Favorite Supervisor. Face time with her has been sorely lacking lately, both because she just hasn't had any projects for me to do, and because my other immediate supervisor is back, and we've had to tackle another Beastly Project that seems to occupy 99.2% of my time.
But the other Beastly Project is coming to a close, and the first Beastly Project is actually not so beastly anymore. Definitely tedious, but not so much beastly.
You know, "this is what my day was like" entries really bore me and bother me. But I'm going to post this anyway, World, because I already typed it.
I don't care how you get to me
Just get to me
Things that piss me off, part I
I am a rather laid-back, easygoing person. I go with the flow, take things as they come, and just try to enjoy life without stressing over mundane, unimportant crap. This is why I cannot fathom bothering to make room in my head for things like birthdays, anniversaries, and other important dates of note. (Not really--I just have a sucky memory, and that coupled with my lack of effort to keep dates noted in my brain means I don't remember shit. On the other hand, I don't expect anyone else to, either.)
I was not always this way.
We can credit a guy I dated a few summers ago with loosening me up. You see, all the while I thought that he was banging my brains out. In actuality, he was banging some sense into my head.
Or maybe it was the fact that we'd do things like call in sick to work and spend the day gallavanting around the Greenbelt and generally enjoying life and rolling with the punches. And going to concerts I'd never have thought of--and sneaking into them so we didn't have to pay. Regardless, thanks to the summertime date, because I like myself a whole lot better now.
The whole point of this is that I'm laid back, you see?
And I don't waste energy being mad, because my God, what does that accomplish?
Oh yeah--it fuels bitter, sardonic rants that make people laugh. Unfortunately, friends, it still doesn't happen often. Fortunately, when it does, I am always Completely Justified in my anger, and I get to amuse people when I finally start to vent about it.
There are truely very, very few things you can do to actually ANGER me. Irritating me is another story--you can breathe in an offensive manner and irritate me, for God's sake. But actually making me mad? Oh, my friend, you are in TROUBLE.
One of the things that will most quickly piss me off? Blowing me off for a significant other.
Now, I am not the bitter single 30 year old woman who is ticked because she's sitting at home with her cats on a Saturday night whilst all of her friends are out with their boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives, whatever. No. I don't even like cats, to be honest--I prefer dogs. Plus, I like being single, so I don't really care if you have a boyfriend or not. Really.
But dude? If you blow me off For a Solid Month, do not expect me to be cheery and grateful when you finally descend from your throne of idiocy and self-absorption and deign to speak to me again.
Because, you see, when your boyfriend dumps your ass and you want someone to bring over a bottle of wine and tell you how much better you can do and how lucky he was, it's not going to be me.
I understand and fully support the notion of Couple Time. I do. Everyone needs one-on-one time with their significant other. However, trust me when I say that I've seen what happens when you go overboard with it. It's not pretty.
The friends you had pre-coupledom have moved on. They have boyfriends now. They've made the circle a little bit tighter to compensate for your perennial absence since your tongue was permanently lodged down the Significant Other's throat. Or maybe they just replaced you. They don't have time for you. Things have happend in their lives that you know nothing about because you never returned calls, and you cancelled plans at the last minute. Eventually, they stopped trying to hang out with you, and you didn't notice because you had the Significant Other to occupy your every waking moment.
So, don't blow off your friends. If you had plans with them, tell the Significant Other that you'll have to see him another night. Do not invite Significant Other along for the outing unless you run it by your friend first. And if your friend says "Well, I'd rather it just be us", listen to the, value their opinion, and act accordingly.
Friend is a four letter word.
You forget so quickly.
I wish there was a rhyme or reason to why some people get sick, and some stay healthy. Why a 15 year old kid dies of cancer while a criminal enjoys a healthy life. You want to say "It's not FAIR. What did I/he/she do that's different? Why do they have to be sick? Why do they have to worry?".
And there's never a good enough explanation.
Don't you wish you were me?
Cool things about working in advertising:
- I am currently wearing jeans, flip flops, a plain black tshirt, and my Northface. Wait, I graduated from college? Huh?
- We're taking a 2-hour lunch for someone's birthday today. We will take another 2-hour lunch in approximately a month to celebrate three birthdays, which should mean a 6-hour lunch, but I digress.
- We get free shit. A lot. Let me list the free shit I've gotten in the last 4 months: about 50 lunches, a tshirt, one Mavs game at the Admiral level (and all of the free food and booze that came with it), one Mavs game at the Platinum level (and all of the free food and booze that came with it), subscriptions to about 10 magazines, the People 2005 Yearbook, 2 picture frames, 2 VIP tickets to the Rangers Home Opener (and all of the free food and booze that comes with it), a gumball machine, an 8-pack of Reeses Peanut Butter Cups, 2 notebooks (One from EW that has a delectable picture of Jake Gyllenhall on it), lunch at the Four Seasons, lunch at the Mansion... I'll stop now
- This flip flop/tshirt/jeans thing? I can do this just about any day of the week. The only days that I can't are when we have rep lunches, but hell--I'll throw on a pair of Banana pants for a free lunch.
- *I* can talk on AIM at work (nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah)
- This year, I have 12 agency holidays, plus 18 days of PTO. Oh. My. God. I had a 3-day weekend in January, February, and March on the agency's dime. In April, I have a 3-day weekend courtesy of PTO. In May, I have one 4-day weekend, and one 9-day weekend (entire week of Memorial Day off). In July, they give us the 4th and the 5th off.
- 25 cent Cokes. 'Nough said.
This exercise in positive thinking brought to you by the letter L.
The July Tour O' Austin Agenda
Upon an IM conversation with John, my partner in crime, the following schedule has been prepared.
Friday
- John and Tom arrive. Kelly retrieves them from the airport, drops them at her apartment with a key, and goes back to work.
- Kelly gets home from work at 6. The group heads to dinner and drinks, then prepares for the Austin leg of the trip.
Saturday
- Drive to Austin early in the morning.
- Float the Guadalupe
- Outlet shopping in San Marcos (John's idea. Don't blame me)
- Dinner & drinks, then crash for the night in San Marcos
Sunday
- Drive to Austin, have breakfast at Juan in a Million
- Tour the Capitol, UT campus, and other misc. Austin sights.
- Have lunch at Double Daves (PIZZA rolls, John. They're pizza rolls.)
- Continue the tour o' Austin. Potential stops include Town Lake, the Cathedral of Junk, Mt. Bonnell (no, this one is a for sure), the Greenbelt (also for sure), and Barton Springs
- Dinner at Guero's
- go to the bar at the Stephen F. Austin Hotel
- Go to Sixth Street
Monday (4th of July)
- Have breakfast at Trudy's
- Do whatever we didn't get to do on Sunday
- Have lunch at Chuy's
- Continue doing whatever we didn't get to do on Sunday
- Dinner at Shady Grove (YAY!)
- Fireworks/Austin Symphony concert at Zilker Park
- Drinks at Trudy's
Tuesday
- Early breakfast at Kerbey Lane
- Drive back to Dallas, deposit the exhausted Bostonites at the airport and say a sad farewell.
My goal is to have both of them so in love, or in love again, with Austin by Tuesday that they return to Boston to quit their jobs and move to Texas. ;)
That Hill Country love is what I fancy
Where streams run clear and Lord,
the skies, they are so blue.
Single white female seeks suck-ass neighbors.
I have lived in exactly 5 apartments in my lifetime. 4 were in Austin, 1 is in Dallas. In every. Single. Apartment, I have had some sort of sucky neighbors. Some are worse than others, but they all deserve to be tortured and shot at dawn. Or something.
Apartment #1. August 2002-May 2003. West Campus.
There were 2 major problems with this place. One was that the idiots above me couldn't quite grasp the fact that jumping up and down, dropping things, and yelling did, in fact, carry through to the rooms below them. However, this was really a mild problem, as they had normal sleep schedules and only pulled crap like this during daytime hours. Of course, it always happened on the rare occasion that I got to take an afternoon nap in my own bed (as opposed to in a random building on UT's campus--but that's another entry)...
No, the real problem were the morons next door to me. You see, in apartments, smells carry. A/C systems are shared. If you live near someone who sucks at cooking and/or enjoys cooking stank-ass nasty shit, you feel my pain.
Or, similarly, if you live near someone who likes to smoke. Indoors. And there is NO smell worse than stank-ass cigarette smoke after it has wafted through the ventilation system. Nevermind that it was a no-smoking-inside building. Nevermind that I bitched multiple times to the management. These assholes would start up at 2 freaking AM, and no amount of coaxing my ceiling fan to buck up and perform like a man would be of any help. However, had I known what was in my future insofar as hellacious neighbors, I probably wouldn't have cared much.
Apartment #2. May 2003-August 2003. North Campus.
Aside from a music major who has apparently never heard of the term "Practice Mute", this one really wasn't so bad. I mean, it looked like ASS from the outside (John saw it--it was the one that looked like a cheap-ass beach motel), but it was cute, and it was cheap. The problem in this one was actually my roommate, but she was kind of my neighbor.
See, Austin gets HOT in the summer. Like, hella-hot. Like, you can't actually get dressed until you've exited your car, or you will have a gigantic sweat mark on the back of your shirt.
But my roommate and I were both gone for the majority of the day--I left before her, as I had class and an internship, and she just had the latter, but we were both outta there by 10 AM, and not back until at least 5 PM. So, yes, it made no sense to keep the a/c at a nice, cool 77 degrees all day long for absolutely no one (not even a pet fish). However.
My logic dictated that it made more sense to turn the a/c up to about 85--that way, it would still run, but not as often, and not as hard. My roommate, however, thought we should just TURN IT OFF all day long. So, yours truly (who was ALWAYS the first one home, and so I got to deal with the heat while it cooled back down) would walk into an apartment that had reached something like 99 degrees, turn on the a/c, turn on the fan and point it directly at my sweat laden body as I laid on the sectional in various states of undress, and wait an HOUR for it to FINALLY cool back down to 77.
My roommate could not figure out why on earth our electric bills were in the neighborhood of $100 a month for a small 2-1 apartment. Um, genius? It takes waaaaaaaaaaaay more energy to cool an apartment from 99 to 77 EVERY SINGLE DAY than it does to just keep an apartment at 85 for 6 hours, then move it back down to 77. But, I lost that battle. Oh well.
Apartment #3. August 2003-August 2004. West Campus.
This one. Ohhh, this one.
I was on the first floor. Advantages: Easy move-in, easy to bring groceries in, quick entry and exit, easy to take trash out. Disadvantages: people lived above me.
This apartment had HUGE ceilings--14 feet, I think. It was cute, it was nice, I had the worst neighbors in history living above me. Guy next to me? Quiet as a mouse. I'd see him coming and going occasionally, and once he set the alarm on his stereo and wasn't home when it (VERY loudly) went off, but come on--once is once. Guy on the other side of me? Never heard him. Ever. Never saw him, either. Guys above me?
Oh. My. God.
First of all, they walked as though they weighed 300 pounds each. Every footstep. Second of all, they seemed to have no idea that they weren't on the first floor. They were constantly just dropping shit--heavy shit--on the floor. Textbooks, cast-iron skillets, who knows what. And at all hours of the night--I mean, when it's 4 AM, and you're clearing off your bed so that you can sleep, and you know there's a bedroom below you--don't drop a stack of five textbooks. Set it down.
And there was the Saturday when I lost it and let them have it. I'm sitting at my desk, in the den, working on a paper and studying. And all of a sudden, I hear a pounding on the ceiling/floor (depending on whose perspective you're looking at it from) above me. I thought it was going to collapse. A few minutes, and it happened AGAIN. I hauled ass up the stairs to find out what the hell was going on.
The idiot was sitting on the floor, watching a football game, and POUNDING HIS FISTS every few minutes. Um, HELLO?!?!?!?
And the sex. Oh, the sex. The floors squeaked. Therefore, when you put any weight on the floor, changed pressure, it squeaked. So when a bed moved, back and forth, the floor squeaked. And the guy whose bedroom was above me? Had a lot of sex. You say "Oh, well, why didn't you just go to sleep earlier/later than when they were having sex?"
Because no matter what time I went to bed--be it 10 PM or 3 AM--they were just starting to get it on. At first, it was funny. Then, it was fucking annoying. I mean, the guy didn't even have any fucking rhythm.
Luckily, he also had no endurance. But still. I wound up having to call the cops on them one night--not 311 for a noise complaint, but 911 for a domestic disturbance. It seems that the one having sex above me was not, as I had assumed from seeing a girl in and out of the apt. a lot, banging a she. It was a he. Which I found out the night they had a fight, and he kicked the boyfriend out. Who then proceeded to sit on the porch sobbing. And then the apt. resident followed him out to the parking lot, where they began a screaming match that could be heard twenty feet away through a wall. When I heard "You're hurting me, stop hurting me", I said "OK, enough". Yeah. Moving out was the greatest day of my LIFE, and I will NEVER EVER live below the top floor of the apartment again.
Apartment #4. August 2004-December 2004. West Campus.
This time, it was my next-door neighbors. The funny thing about these guys was that they honestly had NO IDEA how fucking loud they were. Every night, they'd be up til 4 or 5 AM, holding screaming conversations (no lie--I could hear EVERY word through a concrete wall) that would either a) keep me awake, or b) wake me up. If you're wondering how I learned about the concrete thing... I tried pounding on the wall one night.
Ouch.
There were nights when it wouldn't even be a conversation--just random screaming. Like they were playing a video game or something, and just... hollering. Bizarre. I called the cops so. many. times. I called the management company 3 times, and they got 3 warnings. At #4, you got evicted. I'm pretty sure they got evicted, because when I was checking that mangement company's website for apt. listings, theirs was suddenly vacant. Hee.
The funny part came one morning. I was up and getting ready for the day. It was about 9:45, and I assumed that was late enough for anyone to be awake, or close to it--it was a weekday, and we were college students, after all.
Uh, apparently not.
I started playing some music on my computer (which has rather nice speakers and a sub). I was listening to Fool in the Rain, covered by OAR, when the pounding began. Yep. The neighbor was apparently peeved that I was blasting music.
I turned it up. And put it on repeat. And then I left for the day.
A few nights later, I was asleep on my futon (as that's basically what I had to do to get ANY sleep since they made sleeping in my bedroom impossible) in the living room, when I woke up and heard them in the hall.
"Yeah, and the bitch next door? We're going to have a party this week on Wednesday to get her back. The other morning at like 8:00 she was blasting fucking Norah Jones and shit..."
This is as far as he got, as that was the point at which I got up, stepped out into the hall, and waved.
"Oh, hey guys--listen, Wednesday is totally cool with me. Oh, and it was 9:45. Pretty normal for those of us who actually go to class and accomplish things. And it wasn't Norah Jones. It was OAR. Like Norah Jones could generate enough volume to wake someone up. If you're going to mock my music, at least mock it correctly See ya!"
We didn't have any problems after that.
Apartment #5. December 2004-August 2005. North Dallas.
The chick below me this time.
See, I've had issues above, beside, and now below me. What's next? Diagonally?
She is also one that likes to smoke inside her apartment. And slam her front door, which shakes my entire apartment. And blast music late at night. And her television. And have her loud-ass friends over late at night, sitting on the balcony, which means that they keep me awake or wake me up.
She's really mild though, and since she responds well to the pound-the-foot-on-the-floor technique, I'll let it slide.
But goddammit, when I move in August, I'm moving into a house.
Stay up too late
and I'm too thin
We promise each other it's til the end.
Eye color identity crisis.
For 21 years and 4 months, I was under the apparently mistaken impression that my eyes were a golden color without much variation.
For a year, they were blue, but that didn't stick--much to the disappointment of my father, whose half-Japanese self was apparently in love with the idea of an Aryan child--cornsilk blonde hair and blue, blue eyes. The blue eyes faded (to what I THOUGHT was honey colored) at a year. Sorry, dad--think of it as a warm-up for future disappointments at my hands.
I've grown up saying "I have hazel eyes". I only called them hazel because they didn't the definition of brown, blue, green, grey, or violet. However, it has come to my attention in recent years that my eyes are not, in fact, honey colored at all.
They're green.
Case #1: July 2001. Location: Atlanta Bread Company. Persons: myself and my boss. Scenario: A random conversation when I was picking up my paycheck.
Boss: Has anyone ever told you that you have amazing eyes?
Me: Uh, no. They're just... light brown.
Boss: No, no--they've got a gorgeous green tint to them.
Me: Thanks. Cool.
Case #2: October 2004. Location: Union C-Store. Persons: myself, random male customer in my line. Scenario: I was ringing up his Red Bull and Otis Spunkmeyer muffin (and college students wonder why their weight balloons).
RC: You have beautiful eyes. *cheesy grin*
Me: Um, thanks.
Me (turning to my co-worker after the RC left): Um, that was weird.
CW: Well, you do have pretty eyes (he's gay, thus I actually believe him).
Me: What the hell color are they?
CW: A really pretty green.
Me: Huh.
Case #3: December 2004. Location: Sex buddy's bed. Persons: myself, SB. Scenario: We were in bed, and I realized we'd been fooling around for several weeks and I had no idea what color his eyes were.
Me: What color are your eyes?
SB: Are you fucking kidding me? How do you not know that?
Me: Um. *Notices they're bright blue*
SB: My last name is German. I have blonde hair. You should've been able to deduce that one without even looking.
Me: Oh, like you know what color mine are.
SB: Green.
Me: Shit.
Case #4: Anytime in recent memory. Location: Any picture taken of me where you can see my eyes in enough detail to notice color. Scenario: Anything from taking shots to showing off rope burns (see Tom's bungee bull away message).
My eyes: bright green. Every time.
So, I now have to adapt my self-description to something along the lines of "Female, 5'4", slender, dark blonde hair, green eyes, crooked smile".
However, this is quite beneficial on March 17. I AM wearing green, but it's certainly not visible to anyone at work. Overzealous co-worker trolls around the area looking for someone to peg for not wearing green. Sees me.
"Aha! It's St. Patrick's Day! You're not wearing green!"
"Yes I am."
"Where?"
"I'm always wearing green."
"Huh? Do you have a tattoo or something?"
"No. I have green eyes."
"Dammit!"
Hee.
I know this lady with eyes as green as can be
And she will sit and stare directly at me
And her laugh will take me to my future
Throughout my past, there ain't shit left for me.
Musings.
Since I need to kill 28 minutes between now and when my meeting is scheduled to start, I thought I'd do a nice breakdown of my plans for the next several (read: six) months.
March
25-27 Easter
April
1-3 Austin (Forty Acres Fest, guest speaking, etc.)
9-12 Tom visits/Rangers Home Opener
23-24 Jimmy Eat World rescheduled concert date in Austin (originally in January)
May
12-15 Chris' graduation (College Station), my birthday (Dallas and Austin), early celebration of Andrea's birthday (actually May 19)
27-June 1 Meg visits. Also includes a trip to Austin
June
June is boring so far. I kind of like it that way, to be honest.
July
1-5 John and Tom visit. Includes a trip to Austin for the 4th.
Yet to be determind weekend in July--house hunting.
August
Moving at some point--likely around the 15th.
31 Classes begin
September
23-25 Austin City Limits Music Festival
It's shaping up to be a nice year.
You Know You're in Austin When...
You Know You're In Austin When...*
* Bold, red lines denote something that should invoke hysterical laughter and the statement "Ohmigod, that's soooooo true." John, enjoy.
- Your co-worker tells you they have 8 body piercings, but none are visible.
- You make over $100,000 and still can't afford a house
- You never bother looking at the Capitol Metro schedule because you know the drivers have never seen it
- You've been to more than one baby shower that has two mothers and a sperm donor
- You have a very strong opinion on where your coffee beans are grown and can taste the difference between Sumatran and Ethiopian
- A really great parking space can move you to tears
- You know that anyone wearing pants in November is just visiting from Ohio
- Your child's 3rd grade teacher has two pierced ears, a nose ring and is named "Breeze." And, after telling that to a friend, they still need to ask if the teacher is male or female
- You are thinking of taking an adult class but you can't decide between yoga, aromatherapy, conversational Mandarin, or one on buliding your own web site
- You haven't been to Hippie Hollow since the first month you moved to Austin
- A man walks by on The Drag in full leather regalia and crotchless chaps... you don't notice.
- A woman walks by on The Drag with live poultry... you dont' notice
- You think that any guy with a George Clooney haircut must be visiting from the Midwest
- You know that any woman with a George Clooney haircut is not a tourist
- You keep a list of companies to boycott
- Your hairdresser is straight, your plumber is gay, the woman who delivers your mail is straight and your Mary Kay Lady is a guy in drag.
- You occasionally see a guy on a unicycle whiz by you in your car and you say to yourself "Oh yeah, it's that guy again..."
- You start to worry when you dont' see the cross-dressing, bearded guy in-a-tutu-and-a-bikini-top-who-has-made-a-statement-with-his-grocery-cart-and-cardboard-box-art/shelter on your way to work in the morning. Scarier yet, you know his name is actually Leslie.
- You'll make dinner or bar plans around who's got the best margaritas
- You have a tough time picking one of Austin's 8 24-hour restaurants
- You complain about the prices but still shop at Central Market for the scene
- You dont' even think about getting good seats to the Longhorn football games
- You know the exact locations of three towing yards
- Your summer shoes are your Birks and your winter shoes are your Birks with socks
- Your entire wardrobe consists of: a black tank top, a GAP white tshirt, secondhand Levis, secondhand cutoff Levis, overalls, Longhorn sweats, anything polyester from the 70s, a bikini, Tevas, Birkenstocks, and running shoes
- Dressing up to go out for a woman means throwing a tank top on over the sports bra you've had on all day because it's so DAMN HOT.
- You find yourself wondering why magazine editors insist that swimsuit season starts on Memorial Day when it's really the end of February, or at the lateset the beginning of March
- You consider chips, salsa, Kerbey Queso, and Shiner Bock a well balanced meal
- You find yourself making beaded necklasces to give away as Christmas gifts
- 100 degrees for 3 straight months isn't unreasonable, 110 degrees is. And 90 degrees anywhere between May and September seems a little chilly
- You figure skin cancer is inevitable because it's so DAMN HOT even your sunscreen won't stay on
- When you go out, you make sure you've grabbed your water bottle before checking to see if you've got your wallet and keys
- You don't mind parking a mile away as long as it's in the shade
- (Girls) You ask yourself constantly if that's a cute guy or a butch girl. And you don't really care either way, because it's fun to wonder
- You'd rather ride your bike than get in a car without a/c. At least on your bike, you're guaranteed a breeze regardless of traffic
- Your professor decides in the middle of the Government lecture that now's as good of at ime as ever to tell his class of 500 he's gay. Like you didn't know. Like you even care.
If I had an extra ticket
If I had an extra ticket to the Rangers opening day VIP party, I'd invite you.
We'd spend two hours eating food, listening to a live band, and rubbing elbows with the movers and shakers (or at least the financially viable) members of Metroplex Society (gee, that's not an oxymoron...). Actually, we'd spend two hours gorging ourselves on free food and being mysterious, because the Society members would be wondering why on earth two college kids (let's face it--outside of work, no one would believe we were out of school) were crashing their party.
We'd people watch. I'd keep up a running (witty) commentary while you chose the subject of the next verbal assault. Of course, the commentary would be very quiet, so that only you and I could hear it and laugh. Everyone would wonder why we were laughing. Maybe after we finished eating, we'd throw away our plates and dance to the band. Maybe no one else would be dancing, but they already think we're odd anyway--why not continue with that view?
The party would end, and we'd make our way into the stadium, to the really good seats. Movers and shakers always sit in the good seats, lower level, behind home plate. We'd continue to laugh over the fact that someone thought that we belonged with this group, when in reality we had more in common with their sons and daughters still perfecting keg stands and hangover cures.
During the game, we'd talk. Because really, what else do you do at a baseball game? Yes, you watch the game, but it's also oddly a place for deep conversation without the uncomfortable factor. And you and I love to talk, so we'd never run out of things to say.
But if we did fall silent, it would be that comfortable kind of silent--like you could never speak again, but remain in that person's presence, and you'd be content forever. Eventually, the witty banter would pick up again. I'd make fun of your hat, you'd make fun of... well, something. You'd find something.
We'd eat nachos and hot dogs and drink beer, again raising the eyebrows of the movers and shakers who were certain we'd be busted any second for our fake IDs. We'd while away the afternoon under the warm April sun, sunglasses on our faces, flip flops on our feet, just enjoying life.
And that's why I'd invite you, if I had an extra ticket.
And the ironic part is that in the 15 minutes that have lapsed between when I wrote this entry and when I'm actually posting it, I do have an extra ticket.
If I had a million dollars (if I had a million dollars)
I'd build a tree fort in our yard
You could help, it wouldn't be that hard
Dear life, you suck.
I woke up at 5:30 this morning.
Now, if I had woken up at 5:30 AM because I went to sleep at some absurdly early hour the previous evening, I probably wouldn't be pissed. I'd probably just enjoy the extra hour to laze around, read a book, or daydream.
However, I didn't go to sleep til 12:30 AM, so waking up 5 hours later was not enjoyable.
Particularly since the reason I woke up was because I'd gotten my period. Don't like that? Skeeves you out? Get over it.
Now, females who are sexually active and not wanting to have babies are generally happy to see that time of the month arrive. For the first five minutes, anyway. After that, it's like "OK, thanks for the confirmation that it's just me in here, now go away." However, since I'm not even getting ass, I really have no desire to see this stupid biological wonder.
As it was, I managed to fall asleep again until 6:30, at which time I decided that fixing my hair was not a necessity, and reset my alarm for 7:15. I left the house in jeans and a fleece at 8:05, arrived at work, and immediately watched my day get worse.
I have fifty million things to do. I have one VERY important deadline to meet by EOD tomorrow. People are being stupid, people are not getting back to me, people are ANNOYING THE PISS OUT OF ME. I do not want to be here at work. I want to be at home, under my freshly laundered sheets, sleeping. But, I'm here, and I'm probably going to be here until at least 6 again.
And since I"ll be here til 6, I won't get home until almost 7. Then, I'll have to get my shit together, change, and go for my run. So I won't actually be able to sit down and relax until 8:30, what with the running and showering and all of that. And really, at 8:30, I'm going to have to make dinner, so again--no relaxing there.
And did I mention the pile of laundry that is growing at the foot of my bed? Huge. HUGE. Needs to be done TONIGHT. So now, I'm faced with cycling at least two loads through the washer and dryer, and adorning my apartment with 2 loads worth of clothes that can't be dried. And I need to straighten up the crap I left out last night so that I don't spend an entire weekend cleaning again in a few weeks, the way I did this past weekend.
Then, tomorrow, I can't go running, whcih is annoying me. I'm going to a Mavs game. Which is cool. In a luxury suite, which is way cool. But, you know, it kills my night, and I get nothing done, and that annoys me. I need to make food so I can take my lunch so I can save money so I can get out of debt... it's a vicious cycle.
And now, my crampy self is going to go be pissy. At Excel. While I work on yet another spreadsheet.
Bah.
If I could just grow up
Then everything would be just fine.
Why does my life suck?
The Ten Commandments of College
Tom, pay attention to number four.
The Ten Commandments of College
Update by Streeter Seidell on Apr. 5th, 2004
Media Update
» 115 New Photos and More!
-->Student was searching for divine inspiration. Student walked high on the mountain of knowledge and came across God. Student asked God how to live life as a college kid should. And God said unto him, follow these Ten Commandments and you shall be all a college kid is. And Student thanked God and it was good. And Student spread the Ten Commandments of College to all.
I- Thou Shalt Nap
And God gave unto Student a great gift, the gift of napping. God said to him, You shall spend half your day napping. You shall nap in class, in your room and in your friend’s room. And God said, if you don’t nap, you will not be able to stay up all night drinking. And Student said, Nap I shall, and it was good.
II- Thou Shalt Get Sick All the Time
Now God said to Student, you must be sick all of the time. And student said why. And God said unto him, you shall share drinks, stay up too late, drink too much and make out with people you don’t know. Therefore, God said, you shall be sick all year round. But God said, blessed are the sick for they have partied the hardest. And it was good.
III- Thou Shalt Write Witty Away Messages
Student asked, but God, how will I show everyone that I am funny? And God said unto him, thou shall write witty away messages. God said to student, you shall never just say you are in the shower, you shall say you are getting wet and wild…in the shower. You shall never say you are at class, you shall say you are sleeping…in class. God said, if you do not write witty away messages, I shall smite you. Blessed are the funny, for they will get many girls to be their friends but never hook up with them. And it was good.
IV- Thou Shalt Wear a Hoodie
And then Student asked God, God how do I look like a college kid. And God said unto student, you must wear a hoodie, for it is a useful garment. And you shall never wash it either. Student asked God what kind of Hoodie should it be and God said, you shall own one with your school’s logo on it and you shall own many others of varying colors and creeds. And Student was pleased and God was pleased.
V- Thou Shalt Shit a Lot
And Student asked of his bathroom habit and God told him, Student, you shall eat in the Cafeteria and you shall shit a lot. And it will not be good shit, it will be the shit of the devil for your ass shall burn for hours. Your school shall put laxatives in their food and you shall feel their pain. And Student began to weep, and God said unto him, Student, fear not the shit, for all your fellow students will be experiencing the same. And Student dried his eyes and thanked God and God told him to use wet naps to ease the pain.
VI- Thou Shalt Eat EasyMac
Student asked unto God if there was any alternatives to the cafeteria, and God said to him, you shall eat a lot of EasyMac. It is easy to make and you don’t need milk or a stove. And student said microwaves were forbidden by the RA. And God said to him, you shall hide the microwave under your bed with a towel on top. And Student asked, what if it is discovered. And God told him to stop being such a pussy, and it was good.
VII- Thou Shalt Hook Up
Student then asked of sex. And God said, Student, you shall hook up and be happy. You shall go home with random people every weekend and forget about them the next day. You shall see them at class and be awkward amongst their company. You shall exchange saliva at bars and parties and it will be good. And Student became gleeful and God told Student to wrap it up because He knows where she has been, but Student does not.
VIII- Thou Shalt Join a Club and Never Go to Meetings
Student inquired of his spare time and God reminded him that he should be napping. But Student said he wanted to do other things. So God said unto him, you shall join a club at the beginning of the semester, but then never go to meetings. And Student asked why he should not go to meetings, and God told him, because the glee club is gay. And Student understood His wisdom.
IX- Thou Shalt Wake Up Confused
God said to Student, there will come many a day when you shall wake up in the bed of another and not know where you are. You will not remember what you did last night and you shall be confused. You will see that you have nipple rings and a tattoo now and are covered in Sharpie. And Student was disturbed by this, but God said, you shall tell great stories about it to your friends someday. And Student understood and God took a sip of a beer. And God gave Student the final Commandment
X- Thou Shalt Gain Weight
And Student wished to hear the final commandment and God said he would not like it. But Student insisted, so God said unto him, you shall gain weight. However, God said, you will not buy new clothes, so you will wear sweat pants a lot. God said, Student, you will watch a lot of TV and become fat to which Student wept profusely. But God comforted Student saying, you will still get ass even if you cannot tie your shoes anymore. Student felt better and God pointed to Student’s chest saying, those will soon be bitch tits. And it was good.This is the word of God, follow the Ten Commandments of College or you will be smote!
