I am a good person.
I went to Office Depot to get portfolio stuff and as I walked out, I realized that my bill was way too low. I hadn't been charged for something. So I went back in and waited in line so I could
pay more money. (Yeah, I know. I don't think I'm really an American, either.) The cashier proceeds to have a breakdown in front of everyone, slamming the cash register drawer. Coins flew everywhere. Her manager just stared at her. Finally, it was my turn and I told her that I didn't pay enough.
I don't know what that all means, but I'm slightly disgusted with myself.
I taught 15 people how to crochet tonight and my head is all jumbled up now. I need to do homework before
FM Nation, but really, I don't think I could sit still long enough to read about theories of war.
Roxy update: Her tank is clean, she's officially not dead but still incredibly mad at me.
Penny update: Ate a hole in her new bed. She's in big trouble.
Dad update: Still in the garage drywalling. He brought in a heater so he doesn't freeze to death.
Mom update: Enormous
television star. It's a wonder she still accepts my phone calls.
Elvis update: Still dead.
You didn't
really think I lost my portfolio, did you? Silly you. I found it in a box at the back of my closet (which is about 10 feet long, so things get lost there a lot). I did, however, look in my sock drawer before that.
We just had an aquatic emergency. I was cleaning Roxy's tank because it had all these gross floaty things in it, so I put her and her old water into a Shakespeare's cup. She was not pleased. In fact, I thought she was dead because she didn't move at all. I changed the water and the rocks, let it sit for a half hour and then tried to get her back in. I put a plastic bag on my hand so she wouldn't bite me (she's a fighting fish, okay?) and she finally fell onto my gloved hand as I poured out the water and then jumped onto the counter. She flopped around for a second before I could get her into the tank. Now she officially hates me. (But she seems to be doing just fine.)
I think I lost my portfolio. Which isn't really a big deal since there wasn't anything in it, but I would kind of like ot know where it is so I can start putting things in it for my senior interview in two weeks. Did I leave it at home? It's big and black. It's gotta be here
somewhere.
I'm going to sleep with one eye open tonight so a certain fish doesn't get her revenge.
I'm reading a book called "The Fierce Beauty Club," and it's one of those books that you have to stop reading every few pages becuase you need to think and take it all in. It's about women from different generations forming a group to talk about women's issues that eventually becomes a group of friends.
I never considered myself a "feminist" until I was put into a group of women who were supposed to be. LSV is known as a group of women fighting for women, although after my year of service, it seems that the group has evolved from the original intent of the early 1900s into women fighting for people in general. Yesterday morning was our annual Homecoming Alumni Brunch, and even though there weren't a whole lot of people there, it gave me so much perspective of how lucky I am to be a woman at this very moment.
Women couldn't leave the dorms after 9 p.m. They were not allowed to be with a man without an escort. Until 1965, LSV wasn't revealed on Tap Day because it was a "man's tradition." If it wasn't for the women in the previous classes, I wouldn't even be able to run for student government on this campus (that is, if I wanted to). I wouldn't be able to leave my room without telling someone. I wouldn't be able to wear pants in public.
So I'm thankful for those women and for the legacy they have left us. Most of all, I'm thankful for being given the chance to rediscover female friendships. I don't think any of us in our group had an abundance of close female friends - we didn't realize that it was a necessity for survival and sanity because we were too busy being "involved" and being "leaders" to have close girl friends. The service we did was good, something I am proud of, but that's not what I'll remember sixty years from now when I go to my Homecoming 2062 Brunch. I'll remember the sleepover, the Easter candy, our last night on the Quad and closing down Dairy Queen. I'll remember wedding plans, my first tour of a sorority house and pretending to be FBI agents. I'll remember having to wait in a closet on Tap Day because we didn't seem to deserve a real room and everyone being nervous and sad and happy all at the same time. I'll remember Mary, Katie, Leann, Alana, Jessica and Natalie. I'll remember my sisters.
Last night was super. It was the most fun I've had in quite awhile. So I still hate Homecoming, but that is totally canceled out by the fact that I'm in love with one of my best friends (not you, Abby. Although it was lovely sleeping with you - we haven't done that for awhile.).
I'm up because the Petersen clan is going to the parade. And I'm about to be back down because I don't need to be anywhere until 11.
I have never liked Homecoming. It's not a Mizzou thing. I've hated it ever since I was a middle schooler sitting on "the hill" at the Homecoming football game, eyeing the hot high school boys and hoping someone my own age would notice me.
I feel like it's high school all over again. It's raining (because it ALWAYS rains on Homecoming no matter what state I'm in), I don't have a date for the dance (and if I do, it's because
I asked
him because no boy in his right mind would ask me) and after the dance I go home and sit on the couch with my parents because there really isn't anything else to do. Once, when I did have a date I really liked, he started dating a girl that ANOTHER boy had started dating after going out with me a few times. She had a French last name and a face like a horse but the boys still came a runnin'.
The only good part of Homecoming is the marching bands.
And after promoting Homecoming for the University for weeks, I felt like it was going to be a great time and actually be fun. Oh hopes, what have we told you before? Don't get too high or your little hearts will be broken.
So you can understand why I'm slightly irritable.
Good lord. What a trial that was. Things seem to be on the up and up on the blog and the problems are, hopefully, fixed.
I left my glasses at Justin's house. That's what I get for living in sin.
That's it.
I can get things to come up in the archives, but not on my main page and I messed up where the counter is...any help? Anyone?
Technical difficulties abound.
When I say things like "magically whisked away," I hope you all realize that this is a direct tribute to the best movie ever made,
Wayne's World. If you don't, we were never really friends anyway.
Tuesday is my new favorite day of the week thanks to
FM Nation. God, I love that show. Last night we were magically whisked away to Boulder, CO, where we went to a high school "party," heard a band play to raise money for their friend's bail money, and experienced two drunk girls' last night at college. It was a beautiful thing. It's been decided that when we graduate, Chrissy will write for
Sabrina the Teenage Witch and I will work at MTV so I can meet the fabulous people they put on
FM Nation (hopefully I'll get to meet Porky first).
Chrissy and Abby's love of
7th Heaven freaks me out but I can't help but watch. For the record, Mary is a slut. We saw an old one last night where she was just becoming a slut. It's like watching her grow up all over again. And who is Jimmy Moon and why does Abby keep screaming his name? I was confused and thought he was Jimmy Ray of the "Are you Jimmy Ray?" song. I was very wrong.
I am highly in favor of
Clare's blog. It's a highlight of my day.
I also endorse:
Owls from Martha Stewart. Ours are named Hoot, Holler, Kitten and Spook.
Clark's new 'do.
Feminism
Eating
Another thing about Martha Stewart: Anyone who actually thinks they're going to send Martha to jail is crazy. You don't send Martha to jail. She will kill you. I have a healthy amout of respect and fear for Martha, as should anyone afraid of a crazed woman with gardening shears. Martha, OJ, it's all the same.
It's official - the first-ever Knit & Crochet Out is ON. Mark your calendars - Saturday, Nov. 2, 1-4 p.m. in the Friends Room at the Columbia Public Library. I'm really nervous. I hope people show up.
Today has been the best day EVER. No work, got up 2 hours later than usual, only had one real class, got to go the library, home to eat Puppy Chow ala Abby and decorate for Halloween (don't look in our pantry - it's scary). I also got to see Justin twice and play with Amy. Do days get any better than this? Only when I'm in Iowa. AND I saw Ruth, my camp counselor buddy. Best day ever.
I have my first knitting-induced injury - a blister on the outside of my right pointer finger. (Do you remember the song "Where is Thumbkin?" I used to really like that song.) It hurts a lot, so I bandaged it and I'm ready to continue jabbing needles into yarn.
It's a weird work week for me - one of my bosses is gone all week and it's Homecoming, so my schedule is whacked out at the News Bureau. I'm not working tomorrow (at all - at either job - can you believe it?) and I'm working all day Friday at the News Bureau so I can tag along on media lunches and the Tiger Plaza unveiling. I hope they are as exciting as I tried to make them in the press releases.
The best way to get me to eat fruit is to put it in dessert.
My parents are in Flordia visiting my grandparents, and Helene is babysitting Penny at home. I find all of this grossly unfair as it is 90 degrees in Florida and Penny doesn't have to go to school (because she flunked). Then again, she has to go to the bathroom in the backyard, so maybe I shouldn't complain.
I dreamt I was trying on prom dresses. I also had this crazy dream where Rob Coons and I were driving through Des Moines to get to St. Louis (don't ask) in a car that had a steering wheel on each side. We would take turns driving and I was peeling apples in the car. We were going to pick up my friend from high school, Chris Bradley, at her school (which, in reality, is in California, but I guess in my dream it was Des Moines), but when we called her it turned out she was on spring break. Then all of a sudden Rob wasn't in the car anymore, but Justin was and it was raining. And I had to have labels on my gas and break pedals because I always forget which is which. I don't think we ever made it to St. Louis (especially not if we were going through Des Moines - that places is like the 9th circle of hell and the Bermuda Triangle all mixed up into one).
I take offense at
Caleb saying that Iowa is a terrible place. Pella is a terrible place (they make
windows there, people. That's all.), but Iowa, as a whole, is a lovely place to live. It's just that Caleb was in Central Iowa, where all of the homely people of the world live. Trust me on this one - I've spent quite a bit of time in Central Iowa. I think I would rather live in Iowa than Missouri. There isn't much different between the two, but I really hate I-70 and the rivers aren't as pretty down here. And does the Missouri State Penetentiary have a public mini-golf course on it's property? I think not.
I have started a new blanket. The slippers didn't go so well - they were a mite too large and wee bit too ugly. Actually, I only made one. So I'm going to fill it with potpourri and use it as a doorstop. The new blanket is knit and what I call "diangular," meaning you make it on the diagonal. It's fun. I'm just using scraps and then I'll give it to Binky Patrol.
I have the happiest fish in the world.
I missed Thursday night TV tonight because I was schmoozing with an Ad Club speaker and his really cool high school daughter - she was really fun to talk to. What happened on Will and Grace?
Some people don't know how to program their VCR, so I missed it.
One thing I know to be true: If you are compelled to tell people how good you are, you are probably not all that good. Look at Pat Healy - he could become President and would just tell people he was helping out the country. He is an amazing man.
The knitting blogs are making my fingers itch. I want to craft but I must study! Nooooo! They have reinforced my love of yarn and thin alumninum (wonder metal!) rods.
Am I becoming like my dad and his Audi TT webring? The horrors.
Will someone please ask IATS why we all of a sudden have to change our webmail passwords to something containing (1) at least one capital, (2) at least one lowercase letter and (3) a number? My old password was fine, thank you.
In awesome news, I advanced to the next stage of one of my job applications - as in, they accepted it and asked me more questions. I could end up in Miami though. I don't know how I feel about that. Besides, I can't actually take a job until May, and all available jobs will be gone by then. Right? Right?
Um...things are being crazy and not updating...
An alarmingly large number of people get to this website by searching for "Playboy Girls of the Big 12." How odd. Although, according to my astigmatism-inflicted boyfriend (who has a calendar of me (fully clothed) in his room), I put all those girls to shame. How true.
I at least have the decency to keep my clothes on when on campus.
I'm itching to start a new project but can't really move to do it. I want to make myself some slippers because I find it ridiculous to buy things I can just make myself. In fact, I find it ridiculous to buy things. Spending money makes me feel bad. Unless I'm spending money on other people. Or Penny.
While I'm thinking of it, things to get P for Christmas:
1. Socks
That pretty much exhausts my options.
Roxy is a lot happier now that I moved her into my room. We talk when I come home from work and class. It's nice to have someone to talk to. I can tell she's getting sleepy because she just kind of flutters her tail and drifts around. But she's a wild woman in the morning.
Best thing I said all day: "Some people don't believe in God; she doesn't believe in Gay." -- about a friend I used to have in high school
Most inspirational advice I have ever heard: "Having sex is like riding a bike. Every time they do it, I'm there." -- a very sad and scarring story told by one Frank Butler
I wish October would end so I could get Chris off my wall. He looks like he's constipated and I'm not really down with that. Next month is...ooo, all of *NSYNC with especially ugly hair.
I think my love for *NSYNC has waned a bit in the past few months. That whole Lance going to space thing kinda threw me off. But the thing that really messed me up was the whole Justin/Britney breakup. I liked each of them considerably less after that. She's stupid because he's too hot to cheat on and yet she did. And then there was that whole "Boys Remix" video that really bit the big one. He's stupid because...because...he's not stupid, he's just hot. Hot and wishing he was from the 'hood. Hey, Justin - you're hot! You don't need anything else! (But I do listen to his song all the time because it is very Michael Jackson
Thriller and the kid can dance - I can picture it in my head.)
But the obsession is pretty much over and, for the first time in my life, I'm a one-Justin woman. It feels good.
On a side note, my mother swears she can plan a wedding in less than six months and is gunning to try. Any takers?
I just finished the blanket about three minutes ago. I cannot feel my elbow.
How did
she find
this?
I actually went out last night. It was so much fun. I got to dance, hang out with my good friend Amy (who is currently in "playa" training) and meet some new people. Deja Vu was cra-azy. It was Mardi Gras night and I won a t-shirt and some beads for dancing on the dry bar (we were by far the most sober people up there all night). I also saw a lot of breasts during the "Win a Spring Break Trip" contest. Those girls were definitely not sober. The girl who won was the bride-to-be from one of three bachelorette parties. I'm sure her husband will be proud. I know I was.
Too much work to do. I wonder if I should have done more yesterday instead of staying in bed until 6:00, but I don't really think so.
I got to spend last night with my two favorite guys - my dad and my boyfriend. It was a great night. And I got to go to sleep early.
The bear with no legs (CB) is returned and all better. Dr. Joan Clements fixed him up. I hope his insurance covers it.
I just applied for a job. A
real job. Like, a big person's job. Sigh. I don't really like this.
I made the mistake of telling Abby where my School House Rocks videos were. Everything I know about grammar, science and math I learned from School House Rocks. Also most everything I know about America, with the exception of how many bigots there are in the world, especially my Philosophy of War and Peace class.
Lolly lolly lolly.
Speaking of said class, we watched
Full Metal Jacket today. Talk about intense. The ROTC boys were very excited, especially when Gomer Pyle shot himself in the head.
What's your function?
I have a fish of my very own now. Her name is Roxy. She, like Rio, is a fighting fish. She has a black head and a body that gradually morphs from dark blue to teal. She's so beautiful. She wriggles her tail and the light shimmers off into a rainbow. I could watch her for hours. We put the two fish tanks next to each other and Roxy and Rio both got really pissed. Roxy's head puffed up. We are not doing that again. You can buy tanks that connected so they can look at each other but can't get to each other and I guess they're just pissed off all the time.
Hold on, I'm going to scare Abby. ("Interjections" is on and it's my very favorite song. We used to sing it at football games in high school just to make everyone mad.)
My haircut is okay. Not stellar. Daryl (yes, my hair stylist's name is Daryl) kept leaving to answer the phone. HUGE hugs and thanks to Joanna for allowing me to borrow her hair dryer for a few minutes. She is a star.
Now I will sleep at my boyfriend's house (no! The sin! Call the elders!) while he stays up all night to write a paper. It's been awhile since I've done this and I'm wondering if I can still sleep with all the lights on. We shall soon find out.
This pretty much explains everything. Scroll down to Oct. 2, the second post.
I painted a pumpkin at the News Bureau today. We interns are a hard working bunch (no, really, Tish told us to do it!). Mine looks like a cat. It started off as a mouse but things went awry rather quickly.
Three cheers for:
Sarah, for bringing us scrumdidiliumptious cookies
Amy, for planning my life so I can busy myself with mailing lists about nutrition
Yoga, for causing me to fall asleep before I eat my dinner
Justin, for being gainfully employed
Mom, for not having mentioned my hair in the past 48 hours (although we haven't actually talked for the past 24)
Doing a phone survey of the 65202 zip code and the only person that will answer my questions about exercise is an 83 year-old woman who likes to walk. Not exactly our target audience of 25-35 year-olds, but it'll do.
Chuck B will be in da house Friday night, so if you want to hang out with us (I think we're going to the Berg and we are DEFINITELY adjusting my hot water heater), give me a call. I warn the good citizens of the Quad Cities USA that Marilyn Buel will be on her own with the gang Friday night and has been known to be quite the rabble rouser. I'd visit me, too.
In the immortal words of Abby Peterson, it's colder than a butt out there.
On Sunday, I thought I had everything under control. School was going well, I was finally caught up with reading after my week of tests, everything seemed to be in good shape. Suddenly I'm faced with decisions about my future and THEN I realize I still have a whole lot of crap to do this week. I also need to finish Dave Barry's newest novel to send back with my dad on Saturday and I need to finish a binky for a baby that was born eight weeks early. Being one myself, I know how important this blanket is. I also want to finish my blanket for Kathy's little girl. And I MUST watch
FM Nation, the greatest show ever given to us by MTV. Last week it featured a boy named Porky. How cool is that?
If you haven't read last Thursday's Vox, do it just for Julie's amazing article. I, too, owned a My Little Pony Sleeping bag.
My haircut is schedule for 3:00 on Wednesday. Is that good for
you?
I am currently in a lot of pain.
I have repeated-use stress syndrome or something, I don't know what it's called, all I know is that it hurts more than getting your head stepped on by Penny (which happens more often than you think). It's usually in my right hand, as I am right handed and tend to use said hand quite a bit for writing and stirring and turning the ignition in my car (sometimes bones pop out of place when I do that and that really sucks). But it's my left hand. Which is odd, because I didn't even drive with my left hand today. I am a right-handed driver. It feels like someone is pinching every nerve in my wrist, stretching all of the tendons and other little stringy things from my fingers through my elbows. I want to scream or cry, I don't know which. It could possibly be from knitting (which I haven't done a lot of lately, come to think of it). Pinching things really messes up my wrists. All I know is that it hurts just to hold a book or make a fist. I wonder how old I will be when I get surgery for it, after I can't move any of my fingers and am forced to keep my wrists in braces. I wonder how long it will take to heal. I used to get upset knowing that someday my arms will be split down the middle with a tiny knife, stuff will be pushed around and I'll be sewn up like a ragged hem. Now I just wonder what it looks like inside.
Add "Underwear Thief" to Penny's long list of occupations.
My computer decided to pitch a fit tonight and mysteriously not recognize Windows. After almost an hour on the phone with tech support, I got it working. My good mood from being home had been ruined. I think I will reignite it with some of Abby's birthday cake.
I had an awesome weekend. I definitely needed to just chill out and tease the dog and not think about school. It was a good rest. I got a bunch of new clothes for work and got ridiculed BY MY OWN MOTHER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE LIMITED about how bad my hair looks. Every time I came out of the dressing room in a new outfit, she would say, "The clothes look good but your hair looks terrible." Earlier in the weekend, I was repeatedly called a Wookie. Did I not predict that when I went home she would tell me to cut it? Well, Lady, at least
I don't look like Rod Stewart. Send the camera with Dad Thursday to see how it looks.
I've been home for three and a half hours and already the dog is in big trouble. We went to the biggest dive of a bar in town (The Valley Inn, I love it) and came home to find Penny eating my sunglasses. Mmm, sunglasses. She mangled one arm and bit a hole through the lens. I would be mad except that I'm kind of impressed and they were from Wal-Mart anyway.
The trumpets are blaring, the elephants are stomping and the carnies are coming to town because...my mom has a
blog! Can you even wait? (If you are a gay black man, I apologize in advance because this is how she sometimes refers to herself. The 70s were hard on all of us.)
I am so glad to be home. I spent all of dinner talking with my dad. We played pinball and were pretty terrible. And my mom is so funny. She won't let my dad read her blog because he is "weird about stuff." That's like calling the kettle dirty and burned.
Penny is still in "the doghouse" (hanging her head while she stares mournfully at my dad) and my mom and I are conquering the Internet. I'm glad things don't change.
Little has been accomplished today. I'm trying to read a Judy Bolton novel for my Girl Sleuths class, and lemme tell ya, she's no Nancy Drew. She's freaking
married, people. How can you be solving crimes and saving the day when you've got some weenie guy hanging on your arm? (Although, her husband
is an FBI agent and isn't around much, but still, come on...let's think about Ned Nickerson, the most worthless character in fiction.) Anyway, Judy sucks. Plus, I had to pay $25 for her book while Nancy's books are only $6 and much, much better.
Coming to a computer near you - Marilyn Buel's blog. You will either thank me or hate me for helping her with it this weekend. But I firmly believe that she is the funniest person I have ever met (as does she), so I'm sure it will be a blog worth reading.
Ooo, we have a fish here. A real one, not glass. Abby got him for her birthday. Don't tell our landlords. His name is Rio, named after Jem's boyfriend. He's a beta - a fighting fish. He's blue and purple, just like Rio's hair. He tried to fight one of the glass fish. Abby keeps getting him all riled up. She is a bad influence.
All my gal friends - are you intersted in getting the coolest shirt ever? Go
here. If we buy a dozen, we can get a pretty good discount. Thanks to Jen for showing me the wonder that is Northern Sun.
BDI, CDI, my oh my.
I do not have the strength nor the will to do homework. I find it terribly unjust that we are expected to read two chapters immediately following a test. It take me at least three days to dump all that information out of my head so I can put more in.
In other news, I am now the proud owner of a RED cell phone. Sex-kitten red, even. It's not a new phone, just a new cover. It kind of looks like nailpolish.
If I can ever get my stupid homework done, I will craft.
Oh, and in case there was any doubt, I have the best boyfriend in the whole entire world.
I was so excited to change my *NSYNC calendar this morning, it being a new month at all. I flip the page and who do I see? Chris. It was a disappointment. He kind of looks like a squirrel.
