My mom and I finally got a Christmas tree today! With only three days left before Dec. 25th, it was getting down to the wire. We ended up buying a little table top tree from a vendor in the ever classy neighborhood of Lakeport (or, as I like to call it: Lake Puerto Rico). Anyway, the guy selling trees was sitting in his truck, dressed up like Santa (kinda), and reading the newspaper. He didn't get out of his truck until it was clear we had picked out the tree we wanted. He came over, took our money, mumbled, "Merry Christmas", and lumbered back into his truck. He didn't even help us put the little pine in the back of our car! What kind of Christmas tree selling Santa was this?! A grumpy one, that's what.
Later I went to work, and I asked my boss what he was doing for Christmas. He said, "Probably nothing." To which I replied with horror, "You mean, you're going to be all alone?" "Yup. I'd say so." He was the most unjolly sight I'd seen all day, and that's including Grumpy Santa.
There are tons of cookies at work. When I walked in, it looked like Betty Crocker had exploded deliciousness all over the workroom.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Failure to Live Up to Potential.....Again
So, I neglected my blogular duties by not writing part two of my day of sucktitude. Oh well. Sometimes I don't follow through on things. I try not to beat myself up over it, considering as it is human to fail. But, I do feel bad. And now, I just can't muster up the passion to finish my tale of woe...so I'll have to move on to more Christmasy things!
Christmas is four days away, people! Four. Days. Away!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I feel like I'm six years old again. Except that when I was six I didn't have to stress out about what to get people. This year I am epically underprepared. I have a total of maybe four completed gifts for people and another six to eight gifts in various states of incompleteness. I do not have enough time to finish everything, but I've decided to enjoy the holiday season anyway. If people get a half finished scarf, or a single candle, so be it. That's not what Christmas is about, after all. Folks can consider it my heartfelt reminder that joy comes from family, not new i-pods and UGGs. Ok...some amount of joy comes from those things, but that's not the point!
On a side note, I just had to yell at a room full of middle schoolers in the library who were being loud, disruptive, and offensive. All five foot one of me marched right in there and bellowed in my ever-intimidating chipmunk voice, "Ok. All of you, out! Right now. I've had five complaints about you, so I need you to collect your things and get out. Right this instant!" Surprisingly enough, they obeyed. I did hear a few, "Bitch", "That Lady just yelled at a bunch of kids", and "Stupid cunt" expressions muttered under some breaths, but other than that it went pretty smoothly. I'm kind of proud of myself now.
Christmas is four days away, people! Four. Days. Away!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I feel like I'm six years old again. Except that when I was six I didn't have to stress out about what to get people. This year I am epically underprepared. I have a total of maybe four completed gifts for people and another six to eight gifts in various states of incompleteness. I do not have enough time to finish everything, but I've decided to enjoy the holiday season anyway. If people get a half finished scarf, or a single candle, so be it. That's not what Christmas is about, after all. Folks can consider it my heartfelt reminder that joy comes from family, not new i-pods and UGGs. Ok...some amount of joy comes from those things, but that's not the point!
On a side note, I just had to yell at a room full of middle schoolers in the library who were being loud, disruptive, and offensive. All five foot one of me marched right in there and bellowed in my ever-intimidating chipmunk voice, "Ok. All of you, out! Right now. I've had five complaints about you, so I need you to collect your things and get out. Right this instant!" Surprisingly enough, they obeyed. I did hear a few, "Bitch", "That Lady just yelled at a bunch of kids", and "Stupid cunt" expressions muttered under some breaths, but other than that it went pretty smoothly. I'm kind of proud of myself now.
Friday, December 16, 2011
The Sucktitude of This Day: 12/16/2011
The last twenty four hours have been really vile. I mean it. Really. Vile. Last night I had a fight with my mom. Let me preface this by saying that my mom and I get along really well most of the time. We're simpatico, two peas in a pod, on the same page. But last night, I lost my shit. Lost. My. Shit. I didn't mean to. It just happened. I'd had a hectic day: office Christmas party at 12:00, a final exam at 2:30, work from 5 to 8, and then I was planning on going back up to school to study and spend the night with my friend. I had to go home after work to pack an overnight bag, and that's when the shit hit the fan. I was greeted by my mom at the door, "I'm really worried about you going up to school tonight. I'm worried you are going to drink. I'm worried about your safety. I'm worried about you spending money that you don't have. I'm worried." To which I replied, "Well, I'm just going up to study, but if you're really worried about it I'll stay home." (Yes, this was definitely an overreaction, but I'd had a long day, which made me ripe for a mental breakdown, and it was the tail end of FINALS WEEK!!!!!) So, after my mom said that she didn't want me to not go, she just wanted me to reassure her that I wasn't going to drink, or get into any kind of unsafe situation, I naturally threw my car keys across the floor (shattering my $50 key fob), tore off my coat, ran up the stairs in four and a half inch heels (almost killing myself numerous times), and flung myself down on the bed! I sobbed for about five minutes, rubbed off all my eye make-up in a fit of self-loathing, and then changed into sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt before guiltily slinking downstairs to pick up the pieces of my key fob. My mom was in the kitchen making dinner, and when she saw me, I said, "I'm going to put my car in the driveway. I'll be right back." I left before she could say anything, parked my car, sat with my head on the steering wheel while "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" played on the radio, and decided to go back inside versus stand in the middle of the street and wait for the next car to come run me over. I proceeded to kneel on the floor and pick up the pieces of my key fob, which was when my mom decided to come over and tell me that she thought it was probably broken. Thanks mom. What would I do without you? Of course, I'd be lost without her. Literally. Lost. But, at that moment I just wanted her to evaporate like the mist over the Amazonian rain forest. Poor moms. They can't win.
Anyway, I found all but one piece of my key fob, and then sat on the floor for a few minutes and cried about how immature I was and how "I'm twenty-four and need to grow the fuck up!" Then I ate a baked potato and refused to talk about why I was so upset. The truth? I'm have a quarter life crisis. It involves feeling like life is closing in on me, and like I don't have much more time to have fun before convention forces me to settle down, get married, and have babies. It's a sensation of being suffocated by my small town life and lack of social interaction (caused by being home schooled for the first eighteen years of my life). But instead of buying a hot car (which I actually did do), my quarter life crisis has made me want to go dancing, stay up late watching bad movies with my friends, drink those exciting cocktails with the funny names that I've never had before (Sex On the Beach, Brain Hemorrhage, The Lindsay Lohan), and get parts of my body pierced. To this I ask: What's so wrong with that? Doesn't everyone go through this stage in life where they drink too much, party too hard, make bad decisions, blow huge amounts of money, and end up with massive regrets? I mean, it's a right of passage, isn't it? Apparently it's a right of passage your loved ones will do everything in their power to stop you from going through. Because it's unsafe, unwise, impractical, foolish, blah, blah, blah......
So, instead of explaining all of this, which I've sort of already done, I decided to just eat my potato and watch Ingrid Bergman's "Scenes From a Marriage". Very. Depressing.
This morning I had to wake up at 6:30 a.m. because I had my French Final exam at 8 o'clock. Between the two parts of the exam, I went to check my final grades for my other classes online. This is when I found out that I just barely passed my Weather class. Now: I am a straight A student, folks. Straight. A's. The only other non-A grade I've ever gotten was in Statistics, which I passed with a D. So, this D- marked a new low. Then, I pretty much bombed my French exam. As one kid in my class so eloquently put it, "That exam just raped me up the ass." Agreed, dude. Agreed.
Ok....I'm sick of writing, so I'll post Part II of "The Sucktitude of This Day: 12/16/2011" either later tonight, or tomorrow. Pray for me, people. Pray to the God of All Things Happy and Non-Sucktitudinal.
Anyway, I found all but one piece of my key fob, and then sat on the floor for a few minutes and cried about how immature I was and how "I'm twenty-four and need to grow the fuck up!" Then I ate a baked potato and refused to talk about why I was so upset. The truth? I'm have a quarter life crisis. It involves feeling like life is closing in on me, and like I don't have much more time to have fun before convention forces me to settle down, get married, and have babies. It's a sensation of being suffocated by my small town life and lack of social interaction (caused by being home schooled for the first eighteen years of my life). But instead of buying a hot car (which I actually did do), my quarter life crisis has made me want to go dancing, stay up late watching bad movies with my friends, drink those exciting cocktails with the funny names that I've never had before (Sex On the Beach, Brain Hemorrhage, The Lindsay Lohan), and get parts of my body pierced. To this I ask: What's so wrong with that? Doesn't everyone go through this stage in life where they drink too much, party too hard, make bad decisions, blow huge amounts of money, and end up with massive regrets? I mean, it's a right of passage, isn't it? Apparently it's a right of passage your loved ones will do everything in their power to stop you from going through. Because it's unsafe, unwise, impractical, foolish, blah, blah, blah......
So, instead of explaining all of this, which I've sort of already done, I decided to just eat my potato and watch Ingrid Bergman's "Scenes From a Marriage". Very. Depressing.
This morning I had to wake up at 6:30 a.m. because I had my French Final exam at 8 o'clock. Between the two parts of the exam, I went to check my final grades for my other classes online. This is when I found out that I just barely passed my Weather class. Now: I am a straight A student, folks. Straight. A's. The only other non-A grade I've ever gotten was in Statistics, which I passed with a D. So, this D- marked a new low. Then, I pretty much bombed my French exam. As one kid in my class so eloquently put it, "That exam just raped me up the ass." Agreed, dude. Agreed.
Ok....I'm sick of writing, so I'll post Part II of "The Sucktitude of This Day: 12/16/2011" either later tonight, or tomorrow. Pray for me, people. Pray to the God of All Things Happy and Non-Sucktitudinal.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Zac Ephron: Man Child, or Elf?
So, last night I watched the movie 17 Again. It was surprisingly entertaining, considering the premise, which was so cliche I thought I might throw up a little in my mouth. But, Zac Ephron? Not a man. Definitely not a child (especially shirtless). A man child maybe? Or an elf? The verdict is still out. What do you think?
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Some Common Types of Men
1. Mormon pretending he's not a Mormon: note the sexy dark rimmed spectacles, button-down shirt, pressed slacks, clean-shavenness, erect posture, impeccable manners, and religious pamphlet peeking out from breast pocket. WARNING: He will expect you to wear prairie skirts and bear hordes of children. Oh, and for you to make nice with his other eight wives.
2. Hippie Crunchie Guy: t-shirt with eco-friendly logo, scruffy beard/man shadow/curly mop of uncombed hair, hemp friendship bracelet, dirty fingernails, expensive cup of organic Peruvian blend java. WARNING: You will never live up to his expectations of you. You will never be Vegan enough, passionate enough about saving the whales, or enthusiastic enough about hiking....plus the second you use actual deodorant vs. the crystal he convinced you to try, you'll be out the door.
3. Wankster from Suburbia: baggy sweatpants, loose fitting white t-shirt, oversized sneakers of the DC variety, black puffy jacket, bling, backwards fitted baseball cap, biddies. WARNING: Read what I just wrote and if you're still not convinced, check his backpack for drugs.
4. Never Been Kissed Guy: toe shoes (and I do not mean the ones worn by members of the New York City Ballet), just slightly too short workouts pants, just slightly too fitted underarmor mockneck workout top, thin framed glasses, and a messenger bag. WARNING: There is a reason he's never been kissed and it's because he is WAY too OCD to allow the exchange of saliva. Plus, even if you do manage to tear down his walls, once you've assured him he's worthy of dating, he'll leave you in search of someone much younger and prettier.
5. Hipster Guy: military jacket circa 1972, skinny jeans or corduroy pants, floppy effortlessly perfect hair, handmade scarf, Vans or Converse, canvas messenger bag, vintage vinyl collection. WARNING: Hipster Guy's middle name is narcissism. The second you even joke about his Bonnaroo bumper sticker, or hemp Jesus sandals, he'll be gone.
6. Socially Awkward/Borderline Autistic Guy: short nylon shorts, dirty white sneakers, plain colored t-shirt, i-pad, rolling luggage (even though he's not going anywhere), squinty eyes, and an uncomfortable smile that appears at inopportune times. WARNING: Though you may develop a soft spot for Socially Awkward Guy, never follow through on these feelings. He is incapable of understanding humor or irony and will talk directly to your breasts.
These are just a few types of the men who are wandering around out there. As you can see, it looks like there's something for everyone, but I'd argue that there is really almost nothing for anyone.
2. Hippie Crunchie Guy: t-shirt with eco-friendly logo, scruffy beard/man shadow/curly mop of uncombed hair, hemp friendship bracelet, dirty fingernails, expensive cup of organic Peruvian blend java. WARNING: You will never live up to his expectations of you. You will never be Vegan enough, passionate enough about saving the whales, or enthusiastic enough about hiking....plus the second you use actual deodorant vs. the crystal he convinced you to try, you'll be out the door.
3. Wankster from Suburbia: baggy sweatpants, loose fitting white t-shirt, oversized sneakers of the DC variety, black puffy jacket, bling, backwards fitted baseball cap, biddies. WARNING: Read what I just wrote and if you're still not convinced, check his backpack for drugs.
4. Never Been Kissed Guy: toe shoes (and I do not mean the ones worn by members of the New York City Ballet), just slightly too short workouts pants, just slightly too fitted underarmor mockneck workout top, thin framed glasses, and a messenger bag. WARNING: There is a reason he's never been kissed and it's because he is WAY too OCD to allow the exchange of saliva. Plus, even if you do manage to tear down his walls, once you've assured him he's worthy of dating, he'll leave you in search of someone much younger and prettier.
5. Hipster Guy: military jacket circa 1972, skinny jeans or corduroy pants, floppy effortlessly perfect hair, handmade scarf, Vans or Converse, canvas messenger bag, vintage vinyl collection. WARNING: Hipster Guy's middle name is narcissism. The second you even joke about his Bonnaroo bumper sticker, or hemp Jesus sandals, he'll be gone.
6. Socially Awkward/Borderline Autistic Guy: short nylon shorts, dirty white sneakers, plain colored t-shirt, i-pad, rolling luggage (even though he's not going anywhere), squinty eyes, and an uncomfortable smile that appears at inopportune times. WARNING: Though you may develop a soft spot for Socially Awkward Guy, never follow through on these feelings. He is incapable of understanding humor or irony and will talk directly to your breasts.
These are just a few types of the men who are wandering around out there. As you can see, it looks like there's something for everyone, but I'd argue that there is really almost nothing for anyone.
Monday, December 12, 2011
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