Further proof that I am a nerd

Okay, so Lauren Graham (of Gilmore Girls fame) and I totally need to be friends. First of all, she's so cool. Second of all, we have SO much in common! She was an English major, I was an English major. She rides horses, I ride horses. We both wanted to be jockeys but were too tall. She grew up around here, I now live around here. She apparently writes a lot; I in my day have been known to write a lot. Including the infamous 50000 word novel in a month which has a chapter posted somewhere online. Where? I have absolutely no idea. Anyways. All these things add up to being best friends. I can see it now: The trips out to LA to visit her, the phone conversations, the visits here where we'd curl up and eat cookie dough and talk. And of course, given the age difference, she wouldn't just be a best friend, she'd be a mentor, too. It'd be great.

And I just discovered that Slate has a section all on words. All on words! I am joyful. It brings me happiness. Does this make me a nerd? Well, yes. But I figured that out long ago. Anyone who loved taking Latin qualifies as a nerd. Eats, Shoots and Leaves? Preaching to the choir. The current article is on the origin of the term 'baby-daddy,' apparently Jamaica. I'm torn, though, on how I feel about such terms being in the OED. On one hand, the OED is merely a collection of terms and how they have been used over the course of decades or centuries, depending on the age of the term. On the other, it's the freaking OED. It brings up pictures of scholars and grammar nerds and the best of the English language. Which baby-daddy and bling-bling do not, in my humble opinion, count as. Maybe I should just move to France. They have grammar police over there...

Disturbing bodies

Ew... I just linked from someone else's blog to an article on using hookworm to cure allergies/asthma/digestive problems. This guy claimed it worked, but he has to reinfect himself with worms every three months or so. Hookworm is found in feces, people. FECES. [shudders]

To continue in the theme of bodies. I went to the gym yesterday. Now, I like my gym. It's a nice gym. Lots of equipment and wood paneling and carpet in the locker room. But. Some people apparently interpret the casual "we're all here trying to stay healthy and attractive" feeling of the gym as an excuse to wander around naked. I understand that everyone must change. I'm not saying people should be ashamed of their bodies. What I am saying is that I don't want to see naked women! I don't care how great of shape you are in for your age, wrap a towel around yourself before walking the twenty feet to the showers. And if you are going to put lotion on, at least put your underwear on first! I go to the gym for a workout, not a peep show.

Also, as some of you know, I will be going to a wedding in a couple of weeks. This wedding is worrysome for a few reasons, including the fact that none of my bf's friends that I know are going to be available to sit with me (one's the groom, another couple is having a baby and so can't be there, etc). And he himself is in the wedding. Which means I get to either sit with complete strangers or his parents. So this is one problem. The other is that the groom's family freaked me out when I met them. See, here is the scenario. Groom graduates from vet school; bf and I go to his graduation party on his family's farm. (It's Indiana. Of course it was on a farm.) We do random things like look at tractors and his family's big saw. Why they have a big saw? I don't know. Apparently they need to chop up trees occasionally. Anyways, groom proposes (hehe) that we all play a game of softball. Now it's freaking cold. It's not supposed to be freaking cold, being June, but it is. (Not immediately important, but could play in.) So I agree, and am wearing a borrowed coat and boots that have chunky heels which make it difficult to run. We play, etc., etc., then go inside and eat where groom's brother is strangely intense and made me want to back away slowly. I lose an earring (definitely made me sad), we say goodbye and leave. Come to find out that later groom, groom's father, and groom's brother were all discussing people. Or at least me. Now, I don't really mind being discussed because it makes me feel important. But. THe problem is the topic. The topic was, "Was she wearing a bra?" I believe the word "busty" was used. OF COURSE I WAS WEARING A BRA AND KEEP YOUR SKEEVY THOUGHTS OFF OF MY CHEST! Who has a nice family discussion around the kitchen table about this? Now I was cold, which would create certain issues, and I was running in heels, which would cause some bouncage. But still. Groom can think about my chest. Brother and Father of groom, not so much. And they should not be all talking about it.

Crap. Now I've weirded myself out throughly again. Ew.

Titles!!!

Ha! I figured out how to add titles on my own... which basically consisted of finding the right setting page to click on and then clicking that I did indeed want titles on my page. I am a genius.

So, I'm sitting here, looking online and at my prescription (I get to have an abdominal ultrasound, tres excitant.) and two things frighten me muchly. One is the
picture of Star Jones on MSN. I know she wanted to lose weight, but she is freaking scary looking. I feel like she is going to jump on top of me and start gnawing on my arm or something. She has a crazy look in her eyes. Not crazy like Cruise crazy, but still. The part of my prescription that scares me is the category called nuclear medicine. Not only does the word nuclear cause W's voice to ring in my head, a terrifying experience in and of itself, but the concept is alarming. What exactly is nuclear medicine? Is it the "option of last resort?" Are they sending little nuclear bombs inside of people in order to destroy malignant cells? I know Bush wants to have underground nuclear weapon capability; maybe this is the first step...

On to this weekend. We tried to crash the DC bloggers happy hour. It didn't work out so well. I mean, we did officially "crash" it, I guess, but we mainly just stood in the corner trying to figure out who was who. I was all for mingling, but Susan wasn't so much and she's the one who has actually been reading the blogs for more than three days. The much-hoped for fight did not happen, though, at least not while we were there. It was very sad. I mean, come on, people. If you are going to invite me into the massive drama that is your online fight, I expect some in-person drama as well.

After that, I met the infamous SO of Susan, who was very nice and proceeded to pay for our drinks the rest of the night. Not that one of my friends needed it. I've never seen anything like it. Guys just kept randomly handing her beers. Not even guys she was talking to/flirting with! Just people she was walking by or who accidentally stepped on her foot. It was a little ridiculous, and by ridiculous, I mean horribly jealousy-enducing. We then began crazy dancing, to the point that every muscle in my body was sore the next day and free-beer girl began saying things like, "Wow. You can dance. I mean, you can really dance... You'd never expect it." She also declared that Susan was recognizable from her head bob and I was recognizable by my smile. Which reminded me of Doug from Teddy Hall, who made me feel good about myself and who kept making statements like, "I'm saying that you're hot, but I'm not hitting on you. You know I'm not hitting on you." And yes, he did know about my boyfriend, unlike scary French stalker boy who chased me out of the one decent Starbucks in Oxford. I mean, the other one only had four kinds of flavor shots. FOUR! It was ridiculous.

Other than that, my weekend was pretty calm. Apparently every one in the 20's and 30's group at church is moving, which makes me sad. Though Amy and I are going to go get mint juleps at the Wilson before she does and that makes me happy because I like mint juleps. AND she told me that Guapos, my one true love embodied in a Mexican restaurant, has killer mojitos. I love their margueritas, but mojitos are pretty up there too. My bf and I got in a spat on Saturday because Friday night he "had a headache..." Hmph. Sometimes that boy does not appreciate how lucky he really is. And while I'm all for fighting gender roles, I'm not really for it in my own relationship and therefore the reversal sucks and I hate it. I also got a chance to talk to Emily, whom I had not talked to in over a year. Though I did email her six months ago and got no answer back... But yes. It is frightening how old and mature we are getting, all talking about work and whatnot. And religion, but we always talked religion and stuff. Particularly while "working" the corner in college. :-) Sigh. Good times.

And I do have to give a shout out to Roberto Donna. He beat Iron Chef Morimoto last night in their rematch. I love Chef Donna... He makes me laugh. Plus, what other renowned chef serves you personally in his grill where you can get pizza for $3.50 and sandwiches for $5.50?

Snakes, lizards, and kittens, oh my!

I could think of some dirty ways to combine that. Not helped, of course, by the fact that my office has had discussions covering how long anacondas get, how much food they can eat, and who does the licking in the office. Add to that the fact that my boyfriend, when I told him about our anaconda conversation, began singing "Baby Got Back" and it all heads down hill.

Sidenote: Once upon a time, I never blushed. Today I had to tell a doctor, a medical professional that does not know me, that I am on birth control. And I freaking blushed. I talk about licking (stamps, people, stamps) at work and I blush. I blame my college best friend who first trained me not to blush and then proceeded to spend a good portion of her time trying to embarrass the crap out of me so I would. Ah, the good old days. Her teasing me about my crush in front of people who didn't know I had a crush, bringing up awkward topics in front of the guy I had just started dating... How I miss her. The worst, though, was when I made myself blush. Such as the time my friend interrupted me with the question, "Are you a restaurant?" I was a little annoyed at the question, so I decided to be sarcastic. "Yes," I said. "I am a restaurant. People come and eat inside of me." It was cause for much mocking on the part of my friends.

Anyways, apparently my parents have found not only lizards inside of their new house, but also a snake. A snake, people. I am supposed to go visit them soon. My visit is supposed to be my rest. My relaxation. My sitting back and letting other people do things like clean and cook and pick up the dishes. My chance to sleep without the sound of people running up and down the hall, without the crazy Post delivery guy who for some reason hates my door and therefore must throw my paper against it every morning, scaring the crap out of me. Not my chance for me to poke carefully around to ensure that I am not about to be attacked by some animal who consists only of a stomach and one long muscle. (Yes, go ahead. Think your dirty thoughts. Pervert.) I would force my kitten, or rather former kitten, now full-grown cat to sleep with me as he is the only one who seemed to be aware of the snake. But he's annoying at night and tends to not only attack snakes, but also to attack anything under the covers that moves. So now it has become my mission for my parents to not only buy me a tennis bracelet, but to also de-snake their house.

Also... I can't figure out how to put titles on my entries... [blushes in shame] Help?

So once again, I was apparently a pre-cursor to popularity. I had a blogger account LONG before they were popular. I had stopped using my blogger before they were popular. And now? They are all the rage. It's like the little woven purses. Mine had broken before they became popular. Those people who try and find people who are ahead of the popularity curve should totally stalk me. Therefore, I'm guessing that in five years, being middle-class poor and being forced to wear clothes that keep getting progressively shorter because you can't afford new ones will be the "in" thing. It'll be great.

But yes. So now I am jumping on the bandwagon I had abandoned before it broke camp. Why? Well, as fun as livejournal is, it's not. Plus it is my secret ambition to break into not only the DC-blog lists, but to break into New York and possibly Boston as well. And I can totally take on Chicago, given that I know at least six people there.

Was really mad, but got over it. Think part of the problem was that I was pms-y AND had just been in the car for 20 hours. Also, my dad was being a prick. But I'm letting it go for the good of the family. And he really doesn't MEAN to be an ass, so I feel bad for blaming him for it.

Oh. also. Another happy thought (I have to hold on to them to keep from turning into a crazed maniac). My new hair stuff. Called G2B... Kinky. I love it. It makes me smile. And an added bonus is it brings memories back of Emily Pate not understanding why I didn't want her to call my hair kinky.

First of all, I apologize to Peggy for using to instead of too. I hate that, and I'm sure she does too, but it's really pointless changing it now that I see it four days later.
Okay, short entry that due to fatigue will have to be explained later. My dad fucking annoys the shit out of me and makes me so mad that I come close to crying, which is what happens when I get REALLY angry. There. I feel slightly better. Slightly.

Is it a bad thing that I am sick to death of hearing about my brother and think my parents talk to much about him? It makes me want to scream or better yet, leave. I mean, he's a freaking adult. I always thought that meant you were in charge of things like supplying stuff for your appartment, but my parents think it means to buy everything not stupid on his little list. and why do we, or more importantly I (hey, let's be honest. I don't care if THEY agree to do something for him... as long as I'm not involved.) have to help with everything. Like moving in. ANd why won't my parents let me drive his stuff down by myself. My dad, who is also going, is a total drag who currently is annoying the hell out of me and makes me frustrated, mad, and slightly violent.
Okay, happy thoughts, happy thoughts. Oh, I've fallen in love. I'm head over heels wiht a pair of shoes. THey are gorgeous. So damn sexy. THough not as sexy as my new, slightly uncomfortable but not murderous black shoes. And yay for postcards from Emily! And... I'm running out of happy things to think about. Must get away from house, away from parents before words are said that would be as hurtful as possible because I'm feeling bitchy.

Have you ever had a dream and when you woke up, you felt differently because of it? That happened to me last night. And they, the dreams, continue ot be like movies.
I think it's a little funny that Peggy was talking about how she didn't really choose a lot of her friends, just kind of fell into the group when sometimes last year, I didn't even feel a part of the group. PArt of that could be because I didn't meet several people till March. Which was shortly after I decided I hated all my friends and needed new ones. Luckily that sentiment changed. Anyway. Don't really know how that was connected. But I wanted to say it.
I had an epiphany on Friday. It's too complicated to explain here, but since then I have been overwhelmed with joy and peace and beauty. The smallest things will floor me, things like the sun shining through my body glitter or the trees blowing in the wind. It's lovely.
I also have been reading Atlas Shrugged, a very good but very long book. It's intriguing and brings up many societal questions about compassion and charity and what is too far. And humanity in general. There is a trainwreck which could have been avoided in which 200 people die. And part of me as the reader is furious at this waste of life. But then Rand describes the people in the train and you can't help but think they deserved to die. It really is a masterful work. If only it wasn't so damn long! I want to be done with it. I still have 500 pages left and I've already read 550. AHH!!!!! The neverending book!

Well, Amy has a semi-boyfriend. Only semi because he lives in Atlanta and Amy met him like a week ago and doesn't really know him that well. He's kind of scary, though she says he's nice and cute and Christian. But he met her at an FCA camp, knew her for a week, and then after that starts calling her like everyday and emailing her all teh time. Okay, side note. Seth Greene is a cutie. Anyway, back to Memes. When she told me about this random boy, I wasn't really surprised. Because I can kind of understand Dana not having a boyfriend and I can't even imagine a guy liking me but Amy is pretty darn hot. I mean, come on. THe girl works out like mad. I am a little jealous, I have to admit. But not a whole lot. Because it's Amy.
And if you think any part of the former statement is sad, I do too. The fact is that when a hot fifteen year old flirts with me, I wonder what the hell he wants and why in the world he would flirt with me over some of the other girls around. Even when a nerdy fourteen year old follows me around at camp, I'm just amazed at what he would see in me... Okay, I swear, I'm not some maudlin person who sits around analysing herself. I just think a lot.
Oh. And Peggy, who I think is the only person who reads this, I'd like you to know that I have almost finished the first draft of an autobiographical short story which I will put on my webpage when I'm done.

Yay!! My computer is fixed!!! IBM roxors. I called them on Thursday morning. Friday there was a nice previously owned, but working, hard drive in my yard. I had forgotten how much faster I type on this keyboard. Am now tempted to write just so I get to type. But I'm tired from babysitting. Where I was VASTLY underpaid. But oddly, I'm not upset about it. Maybe I'm just too tired to care so much. Maybe I'm just too used to being taken advantage of.
It's kind of weird reading Peggy's online diary. We are a lot alike and then totally different. I can sympathize wiht so many of her problems because I have the same ones, like having a dad who doesn't really understand or know me and the whole pain of growing apart from high school friends. Growing up sucks. ANd not knowing what to do with my life. But then, even though my dad and I have issues, both my parents support what I want to do. Maybe because they know that I would fight them to do what I want. And I regret not rebelling as a teen-ager. But then, even now I don't know what I'd rebel about, besides the whole car thing. They're just too damn understanding. I think that maybe all this time I'd been seeing Peggy as stronger than me. But maybe we're just strong in different ways. I envy her her strength, but maybe there are hidden depths in me. (oohh... deep thought... scary.)

Well, had another nice, enjoyable break-down last night, caused by being hormonal and by watching too many romances. Sigh. Luckily I was able to prevent another episode today with memories of this weekend. I lost my virginity, my CRUISING virginity, that is. (ha, did I scare you? ;-) ) It was SO much fun! We got hit on by some sleazy guys who wanted us to "earn" some Mardi Gras beads, which we didn't though I was going to show them my bra (I had taken it off. Damn strapless bras are sent from hell to torture women). One cute guy blew us a kiss from another car.
Tonight I watched A Beautiful Mind. It was good, but I could not figure out what movie the actor who played Charlie (his imaginary friend) was in. I could remember thinking how cute he was, tall and skinny with a nice little accent that makes me wanna... okay, enough of that. ;-) So, anyway, looked at the cast thingy on the dvd and saw that he was Chaucer in A Knight's Tale. That made me very happy.
Oh speaking of random things that make me happy, while I was in NY, my mom gave me $50 to spend. I bought this candle snuffer from a museum shop. I LOVE it. It's not even that cute or anything, but knowing that I own it makes me happy. Really happy. It's so odd. But then again, I am so odd. But that's okay.

Since the last REAL entry was rather depressing and dramatic, I HAVE to write a more recent one. NY was fun. I love NY, but there was entirely too much family bonding. I almost died. After spending six days with my parents, mainly my dad, I was picturing throwing stuff at them, mainly my dad... And Philly sucks. It's so boring. No atmosphere. And it finally hit me that my parents, mainly my mom, are old and don't understand youth. Though she at least liked the cute little cafe that scared my dad and Matt. But things like how people could eat dinner at ten o' clock and go to bed late and still get to work in the morning. We went to see Ground Zero, which was odd... It just seemed like a big construction site; it was almost completely cleaned up. The financial district, though, was creepy. It seemed haunted, even though the streets were full of people. I kept seeing scenes from 9-11.
Well, now I get to go escape my parents by going to Knoxville and seeing Dana. YAY!

New York and Philadelphia, here I come!!! Watch out! :-)

Talked to Emily today. Happiness!
Well, I had an interesting conversation with Peggy. Not really, but one part was kind of disastrous. Wasn't REALLY her fault, though I could try and make her feel guilty in retaliation for her snide comment in her journal...:-) Have I mentioned what a vindictive bitch of a child I was? Cutest child you will ever see, but man, could I be mean. Anyway, she asked a rather innocent question, if I've ever really had a boyfriend, which, due to my mood and the fact that I'm PMSing (at least I hope I am. Otherwise I have no excuse for either the inexplicable irritation with my parents or the cookies that I HAD to have), sent me in a downward spiral down into the boggy mires of my inner soul. Wasn't that nice and poetic? okay, in real terms, the fact that I had to answer no reminded me of old insecurities. As soon as I got into my room, depressing thoughts began to float around. Thoughts that I have been fighting since freshman year of high school. Thoughts like no wonder I can't get a boyfriend, who would want to date me, etc. Well, I decided that since I was depressed anyway, I would have a nice little cry to clean out my emotion system and started trying to make myself more depressed. And that led to an odd little discovery. While I can make myself very depressed and have a lot of insecurities, there are a few things that I know aren't true and can't even pretend that I believe them in the name of depression. Like I was like, look at me. And I have my physical flaws, which of course I went over. But then I thought, I'm ugly. And I don't believe that. Immediately this little voice of reason in my head said, "Liar!" Not that I'm the most beautiful person either. As David so nicely stated for me, I am 'professionally pretty'. Aka, I'm the type of girl you'd want to work with, not date. Grr... I could KILL him for that statement. Not that I didn't know this. But I didn't need him to state it.
But I'm okay now. Got over it. Fell asleep and woke up feeling better.

Yay for Michelle's birthday!!! Now she can officially do everything except rent a car!! [does a little excited dance] :-)
Okay. Weird dream occurence only shortly after I declared they had stopped. This one was about school, the beginning of the year when everyone is moving back in. Only it wasn't really Smith. but it was. I was looking for all my friends because I (obviously) wanted to see them, but I couldn't find them. I couldn't read the tags on the doors. It was odd. Okay, it doesn't sound that odd, but it was. You just had to be there. In my dream. Though some of you were... ;-) (and NO. Not like that.)
Yes the randomness that I have fostered for so long has taken over in a coup d'etat. It was forced to take over my mind in order to keep sanity from fleeing in boredom. (Have you noticed that I'm bored?)
I'm avoiding doing crafts right now. I have officially been asked by Mary, a family friend and last summer's slave driver, if I would come out like once per camp and help with crafts. Which will be kind of fun, if a bit sad. It's weird for me to think about not going to camp. I've been every summer since I finished third grade.It's been a rather large part of my summers. Ah... the memories come flooding back. The last time I really cried in front of people was at camp. Anyway, the only thing is that I have to do all the sample crafts and get like a hundred or two plastic lacing things started. And THEN I'll have to teach people how to do them. Now, for those of you without lacing experience, lacing is fun. It is. But TEACHING lacing is hell. Especially in large groups. It makes me tired to think of it...

Well, weird dreams have somewhat died down. Which is good and bad. They were interesting, if very odd and very random.
I had forgotten how not fun it is to be burned. Amy and I laid out on Saturday. It was nice and relaxing and I was looking forward to having non-glaring white legs. Well, now they aren't glaring white. They are a pleasant pink color. Along with my back, my knees, my shoulders. Essentially, moving hurt. I could hardly stand to wear clothes, in particular a bra, Saturday night. Luckily, my friends are for the most part not in town and I have no life, so I managed not to move or wear a bra.
Reading other people's online journals disturbs me. Not that I don't like to know what is going on in my friends' lives and heads. I do. But Emily's makes me want to go to England as a student, reviving the whole dilemma in my head and heart. Peggy's. Peggy's really confuses me. I understand how she feels about the whole what should she do question. I have no idea. Writing appeals to me, but I think I suck. Like the competition I entered. I'm just waiting to get the email saying that I didn't win. I can't even imagine placing. Plus I have no real motivation. And I don't know if I could stand having such an insecure lifestyle. Unless Peggy finds TWO great, funny, intelligent, cute, and importantly rich and gives me one. But her conflict makes me jealous for some reason. I don't understand why it should, except for the fact that in my mind, she's more talented and more likely to actually sell her artwork and writing.

Bored, bored, bored. I feel like my brain is rotting. Anyway, every once in a while a sermon is just what you need to hear. Not often. That kind of happened on Sunday. As in it was what I needed to hear, but it's easy to hear, not to believed. I find myself in an odd state in which I've actually given up on a dream. It may only be temporary (God, I hope it's only temporary). But it's not easy. The fact that I'm slightly hormonal hasn't helped. It's only made me want to cry all the time. Sigh.
OH, have now decided that I officially have the most random things happen to me. I was at the gym today. Working out, gross, not really wanting to see people I know. And I was doing these little leg/hip/ass things on a machine and this girl asks me if she knows me. I had never seen her before the gym. She knew my name. Apparently, she remembered me from my senior year (she was a freshman) at the awards banquet. Where, to be honest, I did win a lot of awards. But still. It was two and a half years ago. And she remembers my name?! Remembers me enough to recognize me?! It was crazy. Though now I feel like a bit of an important personage in little old Cleveland. I think I may have been a bit of a role-model for her. (and yes, I am aware that that sounds pompous. When someone remembers you from one night two years ago, you can too.)
I helped tonight with a program designed to teach adults English. It's pretty cool. It forces me to think about the way english really works. and it's crazy. It also just makes me feel good. Here are nice people really trying. And I get to help them.

Massive headaches suck. Anyway, I just came back from the mall. I had to get my dad's father's day present. I hate shopping for him. He has so few hobbies/interests that I can't find anything cool for him. Then I can't remember what I've gotten him before, so I'm scared to buy something that I might have given him before. That's probably why I have a headache now. Was hit on by a really creepy trucker in the mall. So the rest of the time I was in the mall, I was constantly looking around to make sure I didn't see him again. Sigh. That's what I get for being so damn sexy. That only weird guys hit on me. Resigh.
Last night I went with my parents to see Nickel Creek at Riverbend. It was fun except we had to sit on a really steep hill and that really made my ass hurt. Chris Theele, the kind of cute mandolin player, was cracking me up. He wants to be a rockstar so bad, dancing around and acting like a guitar player. It was amusing. And I've finally realized that the reason I don't like some concerts is because there is nothing to keep my mind occupied. My dad, who has been driving me up the wall lately, made us stay for a little of a jazz band. The treble was so loud that anytime the brass played, I had to cover my ears. Literally. Chris Theele jumped in on that band, too. I've decided that the little emode's quiz about what time party person you are is definitely right. I'm an observer. The only thing that kept me mildly interested for the two fifteen minute pieces that we listened to was watching the intergroup dynamics and how the addition of Chris messed them up. That was entertaining. You could see how they thought of him as a kid. An incredibly talented kid. A kid who's probably better at his instrument now than they will ever be.