Food Network

CW (coworker) yelled at me for not putting up a picture of Cassie yesterday. So today, I shall not be remiss. And SB made fun of me for taking so many pictures of her (and more importantly, none of him). But, as I told him, he's not as cute and he's not going to change that much that quickly. Where as she gets a little bigger (mainly rounder) every day. Now she can even get onto the bathtub, if she runs and hits it at just teh right angle. Of course, she does tend to slide off... And he should take more pictures of her. Like last night. She totally passed out on my legs, all floppy and dead-asleep. Not only did he NOT take a picture (I couldn't; she was on my legs), he also kept fidgeting and waking her up.

While he was fidgeting, we were watching Throwdown, the new Bobby Flay show on the Food Network. This is a show where he surprises people at an event where they are cooking the thing that they are really good at cooking and challenges them. Last night, it was a barbeque. The sad thing, though, was that he shows up at the guy's daughter's birthday party. So basically, the party thrown so everyone could focus on this one girl was interrupted by Bobby and everyone then only paid attention to the throwdown. As a formerly 13-year-old girl, I have to say that this sucks. AND he didn't bring a present. Ina would have totally brought a present. At least Bobby won. But he should remember... It's not ALL about him, no matter how many food network shows he's on.

We also watched the new cake show with the guy in Baltimore who likes to blow stuff up. Like when he made a cake and shot firecrackers out of it and then everyone ate it. I was really looking forward to this show, but honestly? A bit disappointing. I mean, the people who work for him are funny, though his receptionist/manager? Dear God. I'd be afraid to order a cake from them just because she is THAT frightening. Very strict. His anal-retentive head sous-chef was pretty funny, though. I think I'd like to work all day on something like decorating a cake. Though the sous-chef was a little discombobulated to watch the people tear apart the cake he's spent HOURS on.

Mmmm... Leather pants...

So all this work has made my head tired. And I haven't finished two of the things I have to get done this week... OH well...

SB and I were talking last night when I came up with the perfect solution. I will get my parents to support me and then I'll spend a year "trying to find myself." Either that or I could win a grant that will pay me to do that. Either way. I think it's a good solution. Now I must iron out the pesky details, such as the fact that, as far as I know, there are no grants out there to "find yourself" and I don't know that my parents can really afford to support me up here. What with their new house and the addition and all. And I couldn't move home because my dad has sworn that I may never bring Cassie to that house. (He pretends to hate cats, when really he loves them and Cassie would so have him wrapped around her little paw in like five minutes.)

The whole "finding myself" thing reminds me of a past college plan. Jessie and I were going to go travel the world, looking for our motivation. Because we clearly hadnone. This trip was going to involve exotic locals, long leather jackets for us (because long leather jackets are totally badass), and an entourage of hot men wearing tight leather pants. I believe we may have even specified that the tight leather pants for the men needed to be red. Either way, it was going to be great. Hey, maybe there's a grant for that...

In slightly more serious news, I have decided that as an eventual escape plan, I'm going to go to grad school with the goal of starting next fall. I've even already registered for the GRE. In slightly more annoying news, my tutor from Oxford said he wouldn't write me a recommendation because my application would be stronger with a recommendation from someone who "was more familiar with [my] work." Liar. He just didn't want to do it. I met with him for over an hour every week for nearly three months, wrote him 7 papers, and he's not familiar with my work. Hmph. Damn Canadians... (Not really, I have nothing against the Canadians. They seem very nice.)

Where's Paula Deen when you need her?

This picture makes me smile every time I look at it. I love my kitty, who is the sweetest, cutest kitty in the world. If only she would cuddle more... I shall just have to teach her.

So, SB (Spyboy) and I went to a new restaurant last night for Restaurant Week. We were both... rather disappointed, although the sweet tea was splendid. We went to Indigo Landing, a Southern restaurant right on the Potomac near National Airport. The view was great, though the restaurant itself didn't foster the peaceful feeling the view produced. Inside, it was loud and echoed like mad. The staff was very friendly, although SB's drink frequently went unfilled. That's not THAT uncommon, since he drinks like a camel. The food was just okay. I mean, for $60 I expect pretty good. It was plentiful and I definitely left full, but... I had the chicken. It was supposed to be stuffed with a cheese fondue. It wasn't. It was barbequed, on the bone, and sitting on a mixture of overly small pieces of dark meat, vegetables, and frankly what tasted like Velveeta. SB got roast pork which he said was too dry, though the cornbread mixture that came with it was really good. Then I got pecan pie (or tart, rather) for dessert. It came with mint julep ice cream which was amazingly good. If you could freeze the essence of biting into a mint leave, that would pretty much be this ice cream. The pecan tart, though, was crap. The crust was dry and crumbly, and the filling was basically pecans with caramel so stiff, it made my jaw and teeth hurt. It just was not that good. So we've decided that next time we want to splurge on a meal, we'll just go all the way and go to 2941. Which honestly was one of the best meals I've had. EVER. With great atmosphere. So much more worth the money.

It is becoming clearer and clearer to me that I need to leave. Not the city, just the organization. And it's not even that I hate this organization. It's more that I don't feel as though it is advancing me at all toward something that will make me happy. I think about getting a raise or more responsibility and both would alleviate the situation, but it wouldn't be fixed. The fact is I'm ready to move on. The only real question now is how and to where.

Oh, the joys of the gym

Yesterday I returned to my gym after a three-week hiatus. It was a legitimate absence; I had to bond with Cassie her first week in my apartment, I then was in Boston or with my mom, and then Spyboy was out of town and I had no way to get from the gym to my apartment. Yes, I could go to my apartment and get my car, then head to the gym, but I won't leave my apartment after I get there and I know that. But yes. I returned, while still fighting illness and with a hurt back. I feel that deserves commendation. Anyways, after a short while of being there working out, I remembered why I hate people. And the gym. And people at the gym. First of all, I was annoyed to begin with. This jerk on the metro refused to move half an inch so that I could be more comfortable, THEN he quickly stole the only seat that opened up. Not that I needed to sit, but there were other people who were around who could have used that seat. It just wasn't gentlemanly. Then I get to the gym, quickly change, and get on my ellipse machine. Only to find out my battery has died in my gym mp3 player. (I use my pre-ipod player at the gym so I don't get my ipod all nasty.) Then this rather large man gets on the machine next to me. I don't mind because the gym is crowded and there are few open machines. What I do mind is him sticking his elbow out far enough that his sweaty elbow rubs mine. I don't know whether to be annoyed with him for taking up more than his allotted space (my elbow was carefully kept inside my space) or annoyed with the gym for only having like 6 inches between ellipse machines. It really is a bit precarious. I get a little worried everytime I get off that I'm going to be hit by a part of someone else's machine. I quickly shake this off, go stretch because my back hurts more, and then go to do weight machines. Now I only do three or four machines for my arms. There are two in particular that I like best. Both were taken so I wandered around, then hurried back when one opened up. While I was on that one, the other opened up and then was taken by this woman who did the slowest reps ever. So I wander around, do another machine, wander back to see a guy take over that machine. At this point, I'm a little weary of the wandering, so I plant myself firmly in front of the machine and stretch until he finishes his reps. As he starts to get up, this other large man starts hovering, clearly watching me out of the corner of his eye. I start to walk over to the machine, crossing the three feet between me and it and this sweaty, hovering, clearly has not been waiting because I just saw him get off the treadmill MAN slides in and takes the machines. At this point, I got pissed off and just left, calling him all sorts of rude names in my head (focusing on "asshat" for some reason), and declaring to myself that chivalry and courtesy is dead.*

THEN I get into the locker room. And there is annoying cell phone woman sitting across from my locker. Why is annoying cell phone woman annoying? Primarily because I don't like someone getting to the gym, immediately planting themself in front of a locker, and then conducting a really long, ridiculously personal conversation as if there is no better place to do such a thing. Meanwhile, I put away my stuff, go take a shower, and come back. She's still talking on the cell phone. So I get to be regaled by a description of her cell phone experiences (apparently she doesn't use enough minutes to justify her plan, but her cell phone carrier doesn't allow you to downgrade your plan without sending something in in writing) while dressing. It's not that big a deal... it's just irksome. Then Spyboy, who runs on SCT (Spyboy Central Time), was 20 minutes late. It did make me feel slightly better to hear that other people had declared that he had his own time zone (10-15 mins behind normal people). Which means, when he lived at home in Indiana, Indiana had 4 time zones. Which is just ridiculous.

Also this entertains me. Maybe I should get my mom to vote for him instead...

Lynn Truss would totally support me.

Here begins the series of Cassie pictures, in order to honor my coworker's request.

This weekend... well, this weekend kind of sucked, though my dinner on Friday was amazing. Sauteed asparagus with lemon and goat cheese has to be the best combination EVER. So easy and so delightful. Sigh. I wish I had some now... The rest of the weekend was spent, for the most part, sleeping. I had a relapse (or maybe a delayed reaction) to whatever I had earlier last week. It sucked. I got up both days, felt not great, but not horrible, and then after a few hours, I was about to die. Cassie was tolerant of it. She didn't like me sleeping in (she tends to meow to try and wake me up in the morning), but she napped when I napped and it all worked out. Saturday I did check out the neighborhood coffee shop, with their complementary wireless. Which is why you get updated pictures of Cassie. And soon of me as a child. I had forgotten how much being in a coffee shop relaxes me. Strange how that works. It was like as soon as I got there, I could just let go of some of the tension I was holding. There was a musician. He was... interesting. Not bad, but he talked a lot and that bothered me in the beginning.

Spyboy and I got into a spat (meaning I got annoyed and he pretended to be sorry while really feeling that I was annoyed over nothing but too afraid to actually tell me that) on Saturday. I still feel completely justified. He was just discourteous. See, I had called him on Friday night; he was out with his friends. So I told him to call me back whenever they got done and to have fun and we could chat later. He never calls that night. I sigh, but realize that communication is not his strong point and he probably got in late and figured I was already in bed. I also figured that he would at least call at some point in the day on Saturday. I'm not talking about a big phone call. I'm talking a three-minute, "I was thinking of you and wanted you to know I was okay, and I'll chat with you tonight" phone call. Nope. Nothing. I was starting to get worried. He called almost 24 hours to the minute after I had called him. I was a little annoyed. I also felt like crap. I was more annoyed when I realized that part of his day consisted of a 20-minute cell phone shenanegan to track down a friend he'd seen a few days earlier. He also had to drive all the way home from where he was visiting friends. I'm just saying these things to point out that he obviously could have spared me 3 minutes. So I told him I was flirting with the barista at the coffee shop. I know I'm mean, but I was cranky and sick and a bit hurt and recovering from slight worry and annoyance tied in with the worry, because nothing is more annoying than not knowing whether or not you have any reason to worry because your boyfriend could just not have called you back ever or he could be lying in a ditch or hospital somewhere and how would I know? Sigh. I would get annoyed again but I still don't feel well, he's been punished enough, and I have a Potbelly cookie to keep me happy. Seriously, their chocolate chip cookies are like the best.

ps. I'm not really insane, I just act like it occasionally.
pps. I'm lying, I am insane. Spyboy should know that by now, though, and compensate accordingly.