evil toys

A nice reminder for myself

Today dad and I went to the NCC bookstore to get me one of those fancy diploma frames. I'm on campus quite a bit for speech and debate related things, but walking through the snow to the bookstore, and being surrounded by all kinds of NCC spirit gear made me oddly nostalgic for school. I realized I miss it.

I drank a lot of coffee a few hours ago, and am still feeling awake and motivated, so I decided to put my diploma in the frame. It's been on display in the cute faux-leather booklet-frame thing it came in, but I figured it should go to its new home. I opened the shrink-wrap from the back, as per instructions, took the backing and matting out from the back, placed my diploma in upside-down, made sure it was straight, secured it with this odd green circles, then put the matting back into the frame and locked it into place.

Not giving it much thought, I flipped it over to make sure I did a good job centering it, and I very suddenly got a little choked up. There was proof of my BA, looking all regal in its embossed frame, and I thought to myself I graduated college. I'm a college graduate. I'm educated. College.

It sounds silly, feels a little silly. I've been graduated for almost 2 years now, lots of my friends are in grad school, and a few friends have Grown Up Jobs, one of whom I live with and get to witness pooping out at 9pm because he has to be up at 5am to drive into the city in his collared shirts and nice shoes. But school was always a little anti-climatic for me, probably especially because I didn't go to graduation.

Looking at my diploma looking all official like that just really drove it home. I'm proud of myself, ya'll. I don't think I've ever really acknowledged it, but I really am. I got my BA in less than 4 years with a double-major, working almost full-time, kicking ass and taking names in speech and debate, being a rockstar in the communications department, pretty much paying for it myself, and my loans have been paid in full for almost a year as well. I done good.

It's nice to have been reminded of that.
evil toys

Curses, foiled again!

So there I was, a mere 10 minutes ago, snuggling into my comforter, wireless keyboard perched on my lap, all settled in to write an insightful, deep, and meaningful entry at my diaryland account, ready to fill it with as many commas as I could fit into one long, run-on sentence after another. I was about to embark on a 300-level worthy essay on the subtle and overt sexism I've experienced in my life, culminated in an e-mail exchange between myself, Drew, and his office manager yesterday.

My dreams of this masterpiece were dashed, however, as I went to check my e-mail before beginning the entry to find one more correspondence from the office manager, essentially going "lol guize wuz a joke kay?".

So my loving ElJay friends, I bring you a retrospective glance at the Great Christmas Party Attire Saga: 2009 Edition.

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evil toys

What we have here is a failure to communicate

So, a while ago Drew mentioned to me that his company was thinking of putting together a Christmas party, that he'd probably need a date, and that I should go with him. At the time I was all "yeah yeah, whatever, sure, I like parties". Today he texted me with the "formal" invitation. Namely, with a date and the actual question "you wanna go?"

I was just going to say yes, but then a small voice in the back of my brain said I should probably run this by Alex first, if only out of courtesy if not truly for his input. We're not in the habit of asking each other for permission to do things, but I figured he might appreciate a heads-up or something.

The problem with my personal communication style is that when I think something is important I vastly over-think it and worry about it until the words are forced and scripted. Conversely, when I don't think something is terribly important, I give it very little thought. Being the only girl Drew knows in the area and thereby his default date didn't really make it onto the "important" or "big deal" list, so when I broached the topic with Alex I perhaps used the wrong words. Specifically, the word "date".

For a man who once vehemently claimed that he "doesn't get jealous", no, not even if former-roomie Brian and I had make-out parties every night, he sure made an adorably jealous noise when I asked. He somewhat begrudgingly said it's fine as long as it's not a "real" date, and it took a lot of willpower on my part not to laugh too hard. Really? Really?

I'll probably ask again, just to give him one more chance to vocalize if he's actually bothered. Cause while on the one hand I'm a Grown-Ass Woman and I'll Do What I Want, on the other I don't actually want to do something that'll upset him. I really wasn't expecting his reaction to be what it was, so now I feel obligated to reevaluate my plans.

Silly boyfriend.
evil toys

The real secret to weight loss?

Faking it. Apparently.

I'm generally a good kid about going to the gym and sticking to the diet of whole grains and bland chickens that my personal trainer, Grant, expects me to follow. I would give myself an A for effort and a B+ for execution for 6 out of the 8 weeks I've been doing this. For those 6 weeks, every time I'd weigh in, my weight would be exactly the same as when I started. Sure, my tummy is less flabby, my face has gained some definition, and my legs and arms are toning up, but actual numerical weight has not come off.

Now, for historical documentation (and by that I mean "what I write on my food/exercise logs"), I've been a B+ to A student the entire time. This is so, when I didn't in fact go to the gym at all on my own and also ate Real Food on top of it, when I weighed in and Grant says "wow, no weight has come off, in fact you've gained 10 pounds!" I could be like "how weird! Look how much I've been exercising and eating well!". Plausible deniability and all that.

The oddest thing happens, though. The first week I was a Bad Kid (in reality; on paper I was still a model pupil) I dropped 4 pounds. Grant was ecstatic and praised all my (fictional) hard work.I went back to being a Good Kid, and gained that weight back. How confusing. This past week I was a Bad Kid again (partly because I had the flu and couldn't physically go in to the gym, partly because once I was recovered from the flu I ate everything in sight just because I could), and am now 7 pounds down from my starting weight, 5 pounds down from last week, and 2 pounds down from my previous Bad Kid low.

I'm not too sure what's going on, but I think it's a sign from God that He wants me to be eating buffalo wings.
evil toys

Things to do Today

-Go to mom's and make food log copies
-Go to DMV and get address changed/update voter registration/re-register as an organ donor
-Go to library and finally get an mf-ing library card
-Watch last night's episode of Dexter

I'm hoping if I write it down, it has to come true. That's how the internet works, right?
evil toys

Attack of the killer bees!

Well, perhaps I'm the only one in the house vulnerable to the killer-ness of the bees, but I do feel under attack.

Late this summer, we had a Big Fly infestation, in that the family room and kitchen windows were acquiring flies in large quantities, and that these flies were gigantic. We never figured out where they came from, or why they congregated in those rooms, or what steroids they encountered to make them so large, but after about a week of Windexing the shit out of any intruders and using the long hose attachment of the vacuum to get rid of them, they stopped showing up.

Now wing'ed creatures of a more sinister variety are invading my home, namely wasps and bees. I suppose I can't blame them, as I wouldn't want to live outside here in northern Illinois as winter approaches, but I want to know where they hell they are coming from. They seem to exclusively hang out on the family room window, which makes them easy hunting targets, but I'm at a complete loss as to how, and where, they are getting in.

For now the Raid that Drew used to zap some bees last night seems to have having a desirable effect on newcomers. Within a minute or two of scaring me to death by flying into the window (from where?!?!) a new wasp was down on the window sill, flailing about in the throes of poisoned death. The red vacuum is on standby in the family room, poised for a quick and clean elimination of the fallen.

You might be able to kill me, little Hellions, but I have the power of a cyclone in a convenient hand-held device and 911 on speed dial. You can't even use a phone. I will win this war.

evil toys

I need to unplug from the Matrix

I just... wow.

6:42pm: I see a funny online comic
Early in the 43rd minute of 6pm: I begin a wall-post to Jaci on facebook
Later in the 43rd minute of 6pm: Jaci sends me a text message, unrelated to facebook
Still time-stamped as 6:43: I text Jaci back, also finish aforementioned wall-post
6:48: Make a "tweet"
6:49: Receive a text from Jaci informing me she's responding to said tweet
6:49: Receive a text from Miranda, also responding to said tweet.
6:51: Jaci and I decide, via text, that we're either very good at stalking, or very lonely people

EDIT: Began this LJ post at 6:50. Note that it is timestamped as such, and therefore predates my 6:51 proclamation of stalking proficiency. For the record, this edit was typed at 6:58
evil toys

(no subject)

Okay look.

I always feel like I have interesting things to say. Even if it's just arbitrary junk about my life. The problem is I'm out of practice, and I think the fact that my computer is down by my bed, and I feel too damn lazy to type when I'm laying down.

Things I've been doing recently:
-Watching True Blood. It's a good show, at least, the plot is keeping me interested. The main character, Sookie, annoys the ever living hell out of me. I don't know if it's the gap in her teeth, the proximity of her eyes to each other, or the fact that her character is wildly inconsistent.

-Missing The Boy. Visiting him in KY both helped and worsened the suckiness that is a LDR. It made me realize that we're not going to fall to pieces or reunite as strangers, but actually being there with him, doing cutesy couple-y things and remembering how good it is to have physical proximity and just how important his presence in my life is has made me miss him all the more.

-Bartending. I realize more and more just how much I love working at Friday's, and I've put a lot of serious thought into moving up into management. That's a career move that will require massive amounts of thought and pages and pages of my Pro/Con list notepad, and will require an acceptance of giving up on my broadcasting aspirations.

-Exercising. I joined the gym across the street, and after busting out that Pro/Con pad, also got a personal trainer. I'm considering it a birthday present, as I'll run out of sessions just before my birthday, and I also paid for it using money I had planned on getting a swanky TV with. I'm notoriously lazy, but having a trainer should help with that, especially since I don't want people to know I'm lazy. The biggest hurdle will be with my diet. Allegedly, I need to eat Healthy. Not "healthier". Just plain healthy. I think I'll see for the first month how the healthier route goes (only eat food prepared at home, unless it's Friday's Key West Shrimp, already gave up drinking pop, will try to avoid crap food). Seeing as my diet is absolute shit, I have to think that making better choices, if not the BEST choices, will help. We'll see.

-Being on LJ. I need a life, or at the very least, a life I can actually talk to people about.

I'm tapped out.

evil toys

(no subject)

I've been listening to a lot of Top-40 music recently, reveling in the fact that pop music, for the most part, hasn't changed since middle school as far as things that make it enjoyable. However, I've become incresingly baffled by a number of what appear to be very consistant concepts:

-Who is "Shorty", and why does everyone keep singing about her? Why is she so good at dancing? She always seems to have a boyfriend, or at least a very loyal group of female friends, yet all the guys keep trying to persuade her to come up to the hotel, motel, holiday inn room.

-What's up with all the computerized voice modulation? The only use I ever hear it put to is to manipulate singer's voices up or down a half note, seemingly at random. The Black Eyed Peas newest singles are good examples of this, and I'm not convinced it adds anything to the music.

-I'm confused by the dichotomy of an appreciation for truly witty analogies ("you're like a high-school drop out, no class"), and entirely gross, simplistic descriptions of sexual acts ("here go some egg whites" is the one that makes me gag every time I hear it) coming out of artist's playboy mouths.

-Everyone seems so uptight about plagerism. Fergie calls out the "chickens" who are "jackin'" her style. Kanye is always troubled with the potential of imitation, and everyone seems to think it's prudent to spell out their own originality. Which is hilarious to me, seeing as they're punching out pop jams.

-The majority of songs now feature a litany of artists who are featured more prominently than the artist credited with the song. The Onion has an article about it here, and I'm inclined to believe that if The Onion were ever to produce a factual article, this would be it.

For the most part, I'm enjoying bopping along in my car to the same 5 or 6 songs that comprise Top-40 radio stations, occasionally cringing at the imagery blaring from my speakers. However, I think my confusion about current trends shows I'm just a little too cerebral to truly enjoy that boom boom pow.

evil toys

(no subject)

I've been bitten by the "be a better writer" bug, as well as the "let it all out" bug, so hello, LJ. I seem to be under the impression that if I write about the boring stuff that's happening in my life I'll be more inspired to write better, more intellectual, and wittier blogs on The Real Blog. With Alex out of the local picture and my mope-meter set to "high", I think I might actually be able to accomplish boring-blogs on a more regular basis.

I put together a care package for The Boy that involved a cute 4-picture frame. Except the frame was the biggest piece of junk I've ever spent money on, and after wrestling with one, breaking 3 panes of glass, cracking the junky plastic frame in two places, buying another (identical) one, breaking 2 more panes of glass, hunting down additional glass from other frames in the house, actually breaking off pieces from the second frame, reverting to the first frame, forcing in glass, employing gorilla glue, and glaring daggers at the whole thing, I think I'm too exhausted to attempt to get my money back for at least one frame.

House Hunt '09 is in its final phase, assuming the realator/landlord guy from the house we picked out doesn't flake out, or give the house to someone else. I learned my lesson in Apartment Search '06 not to get my hopes up too high or to start imagining myself moving into any given place before the papers are signed, but I have to admit, I'm pretty excited about this particular house.

A girl at work was fired a few days ago, and witnessing the fallout made me realize how lucky I am to have been taught the skills required not to be irresponsible. I was raised to be frugal with my money, to make rational decisions about monetary value vs. life experience value, and to take at least a glimpse of The Big Picture when I do things, and it's served me well. I'm grateful that I was taught those values, so that I will, hopefully, never have to have a nervous breakdown in an ex-employers bathroom about how I'm going to feed my kid without a job since I never saved up any money.

Guitar Hero: World Tour will be the death/rebirth of my social life. I'm not sure which, yet.