Friday, August 11, 2006

TMI, or why I don't want to know anything about "man juice"

So remember the wedding which I refused to call tacky, but plainly was? Apparently things have not stopped there. Now this is a couple who want to have kids like yesterday. And the groom at least was a virgin. I knew way too much about his sex life before he got married (non-existent for all real purposes) and about how he managed this (he didn't do ANYTHING). I could handle this knowledge. Really, I could. However. Spyboy saw them last weekend. Apparently a discussion was held on how the groom is not producing much during sex. Yes, that's right. They had a discussion on the volume of "man juice," as Spyboy and possible the lovely couple called it, the groom produces. It is a source of worry with them, what with the whole wanting to get knocked up asap. When Spyboy told me this? First word (and several words after) was Eeeeewwwwwwwwwwwww... Not something that really should be shared. Which, of course, is why I'm posting about it in a public forum. Then I came up with funny things to do about it. Like next time I see the groom, give him some apple juice, with the comment "I heard you were having a hard time creating your own juice, so here's some manufactored." It entertained me.

I also was reminded last night of how sweet Spyboy really can be (MUCH later, after the "man juice" comments). I was talking about Oxford and my doubts about being a Rhodes Scholar and whatnot and what kind of effect it would have on our relationship. He was quiet for a minute and then said, "hey, I'll just go over there and work in a pub." Actually, he pronounced it "poooob," thinking he was funny, but we'll overlook that. And later told me to go ahead and apply for it and we'll worry about all that stuff when I get it. It was just really sweet and reassuring. Sigh. Now if only I could get him to buy me flowers, I'd be set.

Oh, and my coworker has been nagging me to post more pictures of Cassie. So be prepared and don't blame me...

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Working hard or hardly working

I feel like crap. I know, that's what my last post was on. But I feel even more like crap than before. And apparently my boss either doesn't believe that I or my coworker is actually sick or she doesn't care and wants us both here no matter what. If we are sick, it inconvienences her and that's all that really matters. Luckily, I look like crap, so I think it convinced her that the illness is real. Not that it matters. Yes, my coworker was out Monday and I was out yesterday. We probably got each other sick since our symptoms are the same. It's not like we were out partying or recovering from a hangover or anything. I, personally, spent most of the day yesterday either sleeping or sitting on the couch watching tv. I came into work today because I had stuff to do and I was sick of my apartment. Sigh.

Cassie has officially gone crazy. Either that, or she's a kitten. But man, she's nuts. I can't open the fridge now without her running inside. And it's not that she's interested. It's that she is bound and determined to get in there. She's started jumping in garbage cans. If I go in the kitchen, she's going to follow me and try and jump in the trash in there. She also tried to climb inside the dishwasher, an impressive feat since it was barely open and she had to hook her claws onto the wire rack and pull. This morning, she fell into the trash can beside my bed. She was playing on my night stand and I heard a thump, and there she was. Sitting inside the trash. I did get a box for her. She really likes the box. She carries around some of those little fake mice and throws them inside the box... it's a good time. I wish I were so easily amused... :-)

I wish I'd hurry up and get well. I have stuff to think about, decisions to make. And it's hard to do that when all you want to do is curl up in a ball and sleep forever. For instance, do I really want to apply to be a Rhodes Scholar? I mean, I loved Oxford, but it'd probably mean leaving Spyboy for two years. And we've done teh long-distance thing to death. Would we even last if I went over there? And should I stay in the States for health reasons? Because I obviously don't deal well with stress and, while my term there was lovely, stress-free it was not. In fact, that was when the stabbing pain got to be the worst. If I don't go, where should I go to grad school? Do I want to go to grad school? What should I do for a career when I get out? I had the thought the other day that the last time I was happy, I mean for a while and consistently, was in college. Which was a couple of years ago. That's not to say that I'm unhappy now. I'm just... getting by, I guess. And that's not the way I want to live. What do I need to do to make myself happy?

Monday, August 07, 2006

family of family of family

My coworker is supposedly under the weather today as she is staying home. I would think she was making it up (she just got back from Italy, her boyfriend just moved in with her, she's not thrilled with her job, I can see a few good reasons to stay home), but I don't feel so hot either, so there very well could be something going around the office. What this means for me, though, is a very quiet day. It's just me and my supervisor in the office, plus Spyboy is at home in Indiana, so not much conversation will occur. Oh well.

This weekend was a good time, minus the not feeling great. My sister-in-law's brother lives in the area and he had an engagement party. So his family, whom I LOVE, and my brother and sister-in-law came into town for the party. I hadn't met his fiancee, so that was fun, too. I approve, not that my approval matters much. And my mom was here for other reasons (she was here taking craft classes), so she got to go, too. Which was nice for her since she might not get to go to the wedding. It's in December, she's a church organist, it can be hard to leave town then. But yes. The party was fun, although it ended with about an hour and a half of singing. Cheesy, I know, but it fits both families pretty well. And then they made me sing a solo. It was a bit ridiculous, but I couldn't refuse my brother's grandmother-in-law (she's like 80-something, going blind, and a really sweet woman) and the aunt of the bride. Who is Lebanese. This aunt is going to teach me how to Arabic dance at the wedding. I am SO excited. And she cracks me up. Like a combination of a character from My Big Fat Greek Wedding and Paula Deen. She is one reason I always wanted to marry someone ethnic. I know that sounds strange, but my family is pretty traditional American. I would love to be a part of a family with a different culture.

In other news, I'm trying to decide what I want to do with my life. It's not going well...