Lonely little shoe

Today I saw a shoe. This might not seem strange in and off itself. But this shoe was missing a foot, an owner, a mate. It was sitting all by itself on the curb. This made me wonder. How do you lose a shoe like that? If it were right outside a hotel or apartment building or dorm, I might be able to understand that. After all, someone might be moving stuff in or out of a room and just have had a shoe fall out. But this one wasn't. It was all alone, lost. And I couldn't help but want to know its story.

Whatever, Wilson

This woke me up last night. Not that I wasn't prepared for it, thanks to article. Well, that one and the 180000000 others written about that stupid bridge. Really. They blow up one bridge and it becomes this huge mass production. Yes, I know that they have been working on it forever. I know like a zillion people cross it every day in their commute from hell. The reason it matters to me though? A. it woke me up. I don't like that. Even if I'm prepared. And there is no way that that was "as loud as a thunderclap." I slept through an earthquake once but this woke me up. (True story, too. My friend woke up, saw everything shaking, saw me sleeping and thought it was a dream. The next morning, everyone was talking about it. I didn't even roll over. No recollection of the shaking at all.) And B. I didn't get a free carwash. I realize most of you aren't going to read those articles (really, they aren't that interesting), so let me explain. The Wilson Bridge is a pain in the neck for all involved. The commuters hate it. The neighborhood around it hates it. The construction project, only half-way done btw, has been going on for years. And the construction teams have constantly put the convienence of the drivers above that of the local people. Not without reason. After all, if they blew something up or shut anything down vaguely close to rush-hour, the entire city would implode. Or at least a lot of people would be very late and very pissed. So the loud construction has been done at night. Such as loud explosions that really aren't that exciting. ANYWAYS. All this construction has also made a lot of dust, dust which gets on everyone's car. (It also has rattled a lot of snakes. Can you imagine waking up with a snake around your arm? Oh, it happened. Not to me. But it happened.) In order to make up at least for the dust, since they can't do anything about the lost sleep, they handed out free carwash coupons. I live relatively close to this area. My car indubitably has become more dusty thanks to the construction. But did I get a coupon? No! I had to pay for my carwash, which wasn't all that thorough, thank you very much. I feel they owe me.

Foodgasms

Sorry no post or picture on Friday. Blogger was being a pain and I had work to do, so... Also, I promise that I'll get more recent pictures of Cassie to put up soon. These are all from two batches, both of which were taken at least two weeks ago. And two weeks is a big deal in the life of a kitten. For example, since the last one of these pictures was taken, Cassie discovered tv. She also has developed that awkward legginess of a teen, has taken to attacking my legs while I'm walking, and now has a tiny little belly. Since I just know all my readers want to be a part of that... Though, if you really cared, you'd either send me money to pay for an internet connection at home or start campaigning my boss to give me a raise.

So, date weekend was fun. The Carlyle was amazing. I had the best steak (probably not as good as Little Zagrebs, but up there, and definitely better atmosphere). They even butterflied it so it would be cooked the way I liked it. And I didn't even ask. And the bread pudding? OMG, SO GOOD. It was a complete food-gasm. White chocolate, with melted caramel in the middle and topped with ice cream. I thought my stomach was goign to explode, but it was worth it. The atmosphere, though, was a little strange. I don't know why the Carlyle has trance music in the downstairs area, but they really need to quit it. It's just annoying. Luckily they turned it down before too long into dinner, but still.

Apparently everything we decided to do on Saturday was somethign the retirement community wanted to do. We got to Shirlington and the line at the movie theater was almost to the parking lot. Most of the older people in line with us wound up at another movie (something about a beach?), but once our theater filled in, it was primarily full of older people as well. And they all clustered around us. Spyboy said he was getting a little claustrophobic. There were very few buffer seats. It was strange. Then at the restaurant, it was all older people or families. I mean, I know we aren't hip, but are we really on the same level as retired people and families? It was like 7:30, totally a decent eating time. Though I was glad we were there, because we wound up chating with this woman who had been abandoned by her family. Seriously, they came and sat and then all four of them (son, daughter-in-law, two grandkids) left for 20 minutes at least. It was the daughter-in-law's birthday and the woman was from near Annapolis and REALLY didn't want to drive all the way to Arlington, but did anyways. And then they just leave her? What could have needed to be done in Shirlington at 7:30 when you're waiting for a table that took all 4 of them? And then, when they were there, they just ignored her. Their baby though? So freaking cute.

Also, I've started getting google hits. Whee!! They're a little strange, but highly entertaining...

Cyberstalking

So the tail sticking out of the bag is Cassie, the bag itself is my gym bag (ie full of slightly smelly clothes), and no, I did not put her in there. She dove in all on her own. Though I am growing more tempted to throw her in there. She really has got to stop this getting up at 6:30 and running on me thing. This morning? She was purring while attacking me. It was a little disturbing.

CW is starting a cyber-stalking plan. Completely legit, I promise. Her boyfriend gets a call from a girl and hurries to get it and then reminds CW that she has in fact heard of said girl, because he has listed her on this stupid crush thing. Which really. I mean, this boy has got to be smart, but are you kidding me? He really should know better. So CW is hunting her down just to see what she's like. Which all reminds me of The Little Black Book, a movie I never saw mainly because I thought it'd give me ideas. As some of you might know, I wanted to stalk SB's exes, but restrained myself. Mainly because I don't know any of their last names and can hardly remember their first. Though one of them apparently has gotten married and had a child. I remembered her last name because it was the same as SB's. I made fun of him a lot for that. The sad thing is that I still would cyberstalk these girls if I could. And I'd update him and make him feel guilty and role his eyes at me. It'd be great. I also cyberstalk former friends. Like my former best friend's older brother? Did some of the graphic work on the second Zorro movie. It was cool.

And yet another reason to be proud of SB. He planned a date for this weekend. I'm so excited. We're going out to eat at a very good restaurant, courtesy of his place of employment, and then we're going to see Little Miss Sunshine. Which is sweet because I know he really wants to see Talladega Nights. My last getting upset may actually have made a difference for once. It only took four years...

Nudity and Death Don't Mix

I'd always had the plan of getting Cassie on Cute Overload. I sent in a picture, but she never posted it. I may have to boycott. Or probably not. Because, let's face it, it's still a cute website, even if she doesn't always have the best taste. I am going to have to make another coffee shop run, though, so I can upload more pictures of Cassie for you people. I'm running precariously low.

So there was no surprise last night from SB. Not even a good meal (we had frozen stirfry). He did, however, clean my kitchen like it hasn't been cleaned in a while and did the dishes that I didn't want to do. So I guess we'll let it slide. I mean, it's not like the time he told me (after I had taken a day off work to spend it with his family at his graduation) that it would have been so much easier for him if I hadn't gone to dinner with them. He of course told me this on the way to dinner with his family, making dinner so. much. fun. Yeah, that was just great... Plus he means well and while I didn't get a surprise, I now have a clean kitchen.

This story entertains me highly. For those of you too lazy to click there, apparently in some parts of China, it was common practice to have a strip tease at funerals. Why? No, not because sex is a reaffirmation of life or because of some strange religious ritual. Because the more people who came to a funeral, the more it honors the deceased. Are you kidding me? Doesn't bribing people to come to a funeral kind of defeat the honor aspect? "So many people cared deeply for your uncle. Look, 250 showed up!" [pan out to show scene consisting of a few people mourning, the rest (all men) clustered around a corner while a girl eases her shirt off her shoulders) I mean, I want my funeral to be a party (an Irish-style wake), but that's a bit extreme.

Baby Steps

OMG. My brother has a myspace!!! That makes me laugh. Maybe I'll try and get him to friend me. Since I only have 7 friends myself on Myspace. The funny thing is how we wound up there. (CW and me). We actually were there for work. Kind of. We were looking to see if anyone we knew would have connections with someone we want to have a work connection with. And then I found my brother's friend and then I thought, "hmm... I wonder if HE has a myspace page." And he does. Of course, it still claims he's single and he doesn't want kids and he hasn't even logged in for over a year. But still. It entertains me.

I do have to give a shout out to Spyboy. Even though we had a tiff last night. Except that it wasn't so much a tiff as him accidentally being mean to me and then feeling absolutely horrible for it. I expect something special tonight. At least a good meal. Maybe Guapos... I love Guapos. Mainly their butter sauce. But yes. See, he is not good at follow-through. But he actually went and got tickets for the Dar Williams' concert ALL BY HIMSELF. YEs, I told him that she was coming and sent him the page. But he went online without me and bought them without me nagging or anything. I'm very proud of him. Baby steps and all.

Family tidings

I think I may get more hits when I post pictures of Cassie. Who I swear has gained like a pound in the past week or so and who is scarfing down food like none other. And who only seems to want to sleep on the bed when both Spyboy and I are up there. Otherwise, she just likes to jump up there, check on me, and attack me before running off. If we're both up there, though, she'll crawl on one of us or nestle in the crook of an arm or the curve of a back adn fall asleep. I think it might be because Spyboy radiates heat like a freaking sauna.

So I've decided my family is just depressingly successful. Or at least my brother and his wife. My brother? Graduated when the economy was at its worst in a field that is shrinking and yet manages to get a job a week before he moved up to Boston at a great organization where they love him and give him great career advice. Now another organization is offering him a decent job in a place where his wife would love to live (she wants to be closer to her family). My sister-in-law gets her PhD, gets a job at another great organization again where they love her and give her promotions and whatnot and bend over backwards to get her to stay there. And I'm not saying these two don't deserve their good breaks. Especially my sister-in-law because most of hers have come through hard work. It's just depressing to hear about all of this from MY end of things. IE stuck in a not-great job, doing stuff that requires very little brainpower, and having no idea of what I'd rather be doing except that this is NOT it. Sigh. Oh well. I'll just have to go to grad school, get a kickass job, and then move somewhere exotic while making tons of money. (No, I'm not competitive with my brother... why do you ask?)

Though at least I didn't have to juggle two cats, a dog, three thirteen year olds, and my aunt, as my parents did a few weekends ago. Not that my cousin and her friends aren't adorable. Well, I haven't met the friends, but my cousin is pretty damn cool, so I'd trust her to have some decent friends. But my aunt, being not entirely sane, thought that bringing their dog on a road trip which involved staying with my parents for a weekend would be a good idea. Now my parents' house has no place for a dog. None of it is fenced in. AND we have two cats, one who is old and cranky, and the other who is huge and playful. Felix (huge and playful) might have gotten along okay with a dog. Oreo (old and cranky) definitely would not. She barely puts up with Felix. But my aunt somehow thought that all would get along. So my poor mother spent the weekend shifting cats from upstairs to the basement, trying to avoid the dog all the while. And then? When the dog (and my relatives) had left? The dog had chewed through the cord of my mom's sewing machine. Of ALL the things to chew through, that would probably be the worst.

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.

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...

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?

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...

Damn fairies

I had the most bizarre dream last night. In it, I was in some kind of competition. Whitney was running it, and she told me that I was currently favored to win. The first part of the competition was fighting fairies. With a magic wand. I remember trying to recall the phrases from the Harry Potter series, and coming up with some Latin. The first few times, the fairies did not fall. I tried again; was barely successful, but only managed to hold them off for a few short minutes. They were getting closer and closer... and I froze them and finished my first trial. Only got like an 84 out of 100, though. Then I had to win in a game that combined hide and seek with hunting zombies. It was very odd. And the siblings of my best friend from high school were there... Sadly, I never found out whether or not I won. I do remember that the prize had something to do with Spyboy riding in on a white horse as Prince Charming and sweeping me away somewhere. Like I said, though, I didn't dream the rest of the competition so no winningness and no white horse.

I blame the heat for that one. I was SO cranky last night, it was ridiculous. Though I blame my commute. Because it was like 100 degrees here and I had to wait for ten minutes at rush hour for my train. I finally got on it and... THERE WAS NO AIR CONDITIONING. I've never been so hot. Well, that's not true. But it was pretty gross. I was actually a little worried that if the train got too crowded, I'd pass out. Then I get to Pentagon, run up the stairs, hurry as fast as I can to get to my bus stop (trying again not to pass out), only to get there just in time to see the bus pulling away. So I had to wait for a full 20 minutes until the next bus. Luckily, that bus driver got there 10 minutes early and let us get on, so I could at least sit in the air conditioning. Got home, watched tv, tried not to move. I felt pretty crappy, due to the excessive heat and the dehydration due to sweating. And I was starving. Spyboy had to work late, meaning I didn't get food for forever. Then he got there with Boston Market and my turkey was all disgusting. So I could only eat like three bites of it. Then, and this is the real kicker, I tried to make homemade Cappuccino Blasts. They were a complete and utter failure. Just not good. I didn't have the right coffee and everything was too warm and it just wound up being this weird coffee slushy thing. And that was when I had my adolescent break-down hissy fit. Which basically consisted of me sulking and huffing and then getting mad at Spyboy for falling asleep and not paying attention to me. And kind of throwing things when I got mad. It was very much a regression to teenage years. Kind of entertaining, looking back on it, though nto so much for Spyboy. Let's just say that both of us will be glad when it's fall. Oh, I shouldn't have said that. Now I'm dreaming of fall... I love fall...

Strangled... with love

I woke up this morning to a pressure on my throat. Across it, actually. Cassie apparently decided that the best place to sleep was sprawled with her front feet beside my one ear, her back feet beside my other, and all her weight on my trachea. I call it kitty necklace. Luckily she only weighs like 2-3 pounds, so it didn't really bother me. The strange thing, though, is that I don't really remember how she got there adn I don't really remember her leaving.

Anyways, I was highly entertained to read about Bob Corker in the Washington Post. Why would this entertain me? Well, besides being from Tennessee, I actually have spoken one-to-one with the former Mayor Corker. It makes me feel special. He called me up one day, out of the blue, just to chat about life and whatnot. Or maybe to discuss him supporting an initiative I was working on. Whatever. Either way. The more entertaining thing is that apparently his campaign is so freaking annoying, it pushed my mom over the edge to reregister herself as a Democrat. Yes, my mother was a Republican, a fact that my brother and I learned for the first time this weekend. She doesn't ACT or have opinions like many a Republican. I mean, she's too liberal even for a moderate Republican. It does make me wonder, though, if this means that she (horror of horrors) voted for Bush in '04. I don't know if I could stand to know that she did... Now, I know my dad did. He would have even if he were a Democrat, which he's not. He hates John Edwards with a passion, so the Democratic ticket was never an option for him. Even my mom, though, doesn't understand his voting. As she put it, "I don't know how he can believe what he believes and vote the way he votes." But anyways. Mr. Corker, while a good mayor in Chattanooga, apparently has decided to emphasize his family values. Over and over again until his commercials leave you feeling as though you've lost something. Such as your mind. Of course, he is Republican, so that really shouldn't be any surprise.

On a completely other note, I was a little freaked out this weekend by my mom and brother's bringing up with me future plans with Spyboy. I mean, way future. Like "will you guys ever move to another country to follow a job" type future. I know that we've been dating like forever. But still. A bit weird. I remember before my brother got engaged saying things like, "we all know they are going to get married. Why don't they just go ahead and do it?!" Now the shoe is on the other foot.

Museums as Morgues

Well, I am back from Boston. I know, you didn't know I was going to Boston. Well, I did, and let me tell you, it was crazy. If by crazy, you mean a calm trip to visit my brother and sister-in-law with my mom. It actually was pretty pleasant. We had the most gorgeous weather. And, due to a fortuitous change in plans, Spyboy was in DC to watch Cassie. Only it wasn't so much a change in plans as me realizing that I had the date wrong in my head for the past three months. But yes. I'd only been to Boston twice in the four years since my brother moved there and I hadn't done too many tourist things those times. So this time, I went on a duck tour. Sadly my brother and his wife had to work. The tour guide kept calling me "DC" and decided I secretly worked for Greenpeace, but didn't want to admit it because there were French on the boat. But there really weren't French on the boat; I think he just got confused.

We also went to the Science Museum because a.it was on my brother's way in to work, so it was easy to get to and b. my mom wanted to see this gross body exhibit. She thought it was cool. I think it is gross and freaky and repulsive. (I went and saw butterflies while she was in it.) See, the exhibit is an exhibit of cadavers. Some artist figured out how to preserve bodies by putting some kind of plastic coating on them. So he takes skin off of most of them, puts them in to strange positions (like skiing or yoga), and coats them. It enables you to see how the muscles work in the body. There were also organs and skeletons and fetuses. The pictures made me a little sick. Otherwise I'd link to the website. But I'd have to look at it and that I just don't want to do. And my mom kept talking about it which made me a little sick. And sad. Because while the adults signed a form and said it was okay. But the kids? And it means the kids had to die. And they had a five-month pregnant woman. It just makes me sad.

Professional pretty, my ass

Well, I was all not going to post, and leave work like now, but the stupid Verizon guy is here and I can't leave until he does. And he's here fixing my SUPERVISOR's phone, and he left an hour ago. Totally not fair. Makes more money and gets to make the rules (when Pres isn't here). So here I am.

Isn't it strange how something someone said years ago can still either make you feel good or make you feel like crap? Like this guy in high school. He told me and my friend that we were "professionally pretty." At the time, I was all like, "I know." Now, though, it kind of pisses me off. Who the hell says something like that? First of all, I know that it is really hard for me to look slutty. It's a bit of an annoyance, but has its merits, too. Primarily that people always think they know me and that I'm a good girl and it means I can get away with lots of crap. And it's funnier when I say dirty things because it shocks people more. Though the sheer number of people who claim to have corrupted me is getting ridiculous. We all know I was slightly corrupted and then Whitney finished the job. Second of all, he's a teenage boy. A sock with boobs would turn him on and he's judging me? Yeah, right. He couldn't get with me if he wanted. So it hurt my feelings at the time, now I could care less except that I wish I'd slapped him at the time. Oh well. He did get told he was too fat to be on his college soccer team. That's vidication enough. It shouldn't make me laugh... but it does.

Ooohhh.. the Verizon guy is gone. Which means that I am outta here.

Cravings

This article highly entertained me. Why is it that guys, no matter how often we try and explain ourselves, can't get us? Like number 6: No matter how much your woman loves you, there are going to be three to seven days each month when she wants you dead. No matter HOW often I tell Spyboy that it's not really him and if he doesn't want to deal with it, just. go. away. he still insists that I am obviously mad at him and then tries to make me be in a better mood. Which annoys me, because he usually tries to cheer me up by being stupidly funny and it's just not funny. Okay, OCCASIONALLY it is. But most of the time, and definitely when I want to kill him, not so funny. And then I am simultaneously annoyed with him for being annoying and guilty for being annoyed with him when he's trying to make things better. But if I tell him he should just go away for his own sake, he gets all offended.

Also, Jordan Baker just posted about making a cake. Now I REALLY want cake. Hmm... Also, I found the recipe online for Cappuccino Blasts! I may gain 18,039 zillion pounds if I can make them at home. Right now, it's mainly the expense and the embarrassment of my addiction that prevents me from eating them all the time. I'm going to go buy a better blender this weekend. Whee!