Every day with this cold is a new adventure. Friday was mild discomfort. Saturday was a complete body failure, where every muscle went on strike and I slept 18 hours (non-consecutively) and still didn't feel "rested". Sunday I almost went through an entire toilet paper roll while blowing my nose. Today I've sneezed 23 times and counting, lost all sense of taste, and can't keep my eyes open for more than 10 minutes without them drying out and simultaneously watering like crazy.
On the plus side, Siggy is coming to visit tomorrow! (Supposedly. Every time I announce a Fedtown Friend Visit, it seems to fall through. Here's hoping I don't jinx it.) I've made a considerable dent in my Statistics study plan. Considering the actual difficulty level of the work, it's purely shameful how I manage to pull a C on the test and have failed to do the homework assignments. I could say it just feels like busy work, but obviously there's something in the problems I'm not getting from lecture. Damn that last test. Damn that test this Thursday that I'll probably almost-fail. Damn that I have to take the final for this class 3 or more weeks from now.
Siggy is coming to visit tomorrow. I'll put all my homework concerns aside and take her out on the town, revisiting all the old stomping grounds and getting positively fat on Mallard's.
Perhaps I'll get her to drink my warm keg beer, too!
Monday, May 28, 2007
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Confessional
Irene laughed at me today when I told her that my favorite memories from this quarter were the times I rode in the back of her truck. We were, naturally, riding in the back when I told her. Tiana and Seth were up front, and we were on our way back from Mallard's. Cigarette dangling from my fingers, wind blowing the hair in my eyes and the smoke from my face, my legs propped crosswise across the truck, it was a typical afternoon ride. And it was magic.
During Spring Break we went camping out at Larrabee. I rode in the back with all the camping supplies, huddling under sleeping bags and blankets, leaning against the mountain of pillows we'd brought along. I ate a Cadbury Egg and watched the trees along Chuckanut pass overhead.
Then there are all the times we've been heading out on some bike ride or another. Irene and Seth in the cab, like usual, my with my legs intertwined between tires and handlebars, usually wearing a helmet "in case we crash." Occasionally, if there are more than just the three of us along for the ride, Seth and I will sit scrunched together in the back, me snuggled under his arm as we try to keep from sliding too far down.
During Spring Break we went camping out at Larrabee. I rode in the back with all the camping supplies, huddling under sleeping bags and blankets, leaning against the mountain of pillows we'd brought along. I ate a Cadbury Egg and watched the trees along Chuckanut pass overhead.
Then there are all the times we've been heading out on some bike ride or another. Irene and Seth in the cab, like usual, my with my legs intertwined between tires and handlebars, usually wearing a helmet "in case we crash." Occasionally, if there are more than just the three of us along for the ride, Seth and I will sit scrunched together in the back, me snuggled under his arm as we try to keep from sliding too far down.
Whoops
Dropped another too-large amount of money on bike gear today (or rather, yesterday). But! Two brand-spanking new pairs of bike shorts are well worth the money. My vagina can stop crying about the inadequate padding from my crew trou. Plus, I've needed a new helmet since I was 16. And this helmet? It matches my bike! How cool is that??
So, now my shopping list is down to: (oh god it is still so long)
Either some $90 clip-in sandals (which are going to be a PAIN to acquire, considering I don't even know if Shimano makes men sizes as small as my feet, and I'll have to order the shoes over the Internet and just pray that they arrive before June 7th and that their shoe sizes are identical between models. Are shoes referred to as having models? That's a question for Siggy. When she gets here Monday I'll quiz her about shoes.
Oh, right, so if the $90 clip-in sandals don't work out, instead I get to buy new pedals for the bike and some sturdy Jesus sandals. I have my eye on a new pair of Chacos, but I really wanted to hold off on that (again) $90 price tag until Nordstrom's annual shoe sale, right before Peru. Argh, so can you believe it? It will cost me more to go the easier route. So unfair.
A giant monster fanny pack. To scare my friends with, and also to carry the giant tube of
Sunscreen that I will need to apply liberally, every fifteen miles, to places that have never felt the touch of sunscreen before. Like the backs of my ears and the tops of my toes. Somehow I don't think Georgia will be accepting of my "oh I don't burn, I just tan" skin tone.
A very large bottle of Ibuprofen.
A camping sleeping pad.
Very Strong Bug Repellent.
A white t-shirt, which I will decorate with silly Washington pride phrases.
Fake plastic trees?
A hat. One with a hole in the back for a ponytail. I've always wanted one of those, and now I need it.
Okay so I guess it won't really take a whole lot of effort to check off the BRAG shopping list. But I'm really starting to run out of cash and I wanted to avoid tapping into my CD already (although I do realize I'll cash it out long before maturity.)
In other news, while studying for Spanish at the local Starbucks tonight, our neighboring old man companion decided to butt into the argument on verb conjugation that my study buddy and I were having. I didn't really cotton on to what he was talking about at first (he mentioned something about my Georgetown sweatshirt. I considered interrupting to tell him I found it in the nocturnal exhibit at the zoo, but then realized that's a much more interesting tidbit for things like the Internet.) Eventually however, he made it clear that he used to know Jack Ruby, Lee Harvey Oswald's killer. They used to call him Sparky, he said. Because of his temper. And Jack Ruby's buddy's wife was at the Kennedy Assassination, then went on to marry some important official under Nixon, so she was around for Watergate, too. And that the Cubans probably had little to do with Kennedy's death, but that woman was probably involved somehow. Why was this all relevant? Because the verb conjugation we were arguing about was part of a text about the Kennedy Assassination that we were supposed to be translating.
Man, that old man was cool.
We shared a few choice comments are Salvador Allende's death, how South America is going socialist, and that our book authors obviously have a pro-USA anti-Socialism stance. (The text we were translating also spent a good chunk of time talking about the Cuban Communist Conspiracy Theory.) Then he got mumble-y again and I turned back to trying to recall the differences between pluscuamperfecto, past subjunctive, imperfect subjunctive, present perfect, and oh god I know there are more of them but I try to pretend they don't exist. Seriously, why is there a difference between han perdido, hayan perdido, hubieran perdido, habian perdido, perdieran, and perdieron? And why do I have to remember all the subtle contexts in which each version is necessary?
Alright, I'm stressing about Spanish again, which I had managed to forget about since 10:30. I suppose I'll let it go and call it a night.
So, now my shopping list is down to: (oh god it is still so long)
Either some $90 clip-in sandals (which are going to be a PAIN to acquire, considering I don't even know if Shimano makes men sizes as small as my feet, and I'll have to order the shoes over the Internet and just pray that they arrive before June 7th and that their shoe sizes are identical between models. Are shoes referred to as having models? That's a question for Siggy. When she gets here Monday I'll quiz her about shoes.
Oh, right, so if the $90 clip-in sandals don't work out, instead I get to buy new pedals for the bike and some sturdy Jesus sandals. I have my eye on a new pair of Chacos, but I really wanted to hold off on that (again) $90 price tag until Nordstrom's annual shoe sale, right before Peru. Argh, so can you believe it? It will cost me more to go the easier route. So unfair.
A giant monster fanny pack. To scare my friends with, and also to carry the giant tube of
Sunscreen that I will need to apply liberally, every fifteen miles, to places that have never felt the touch of sunscreen before. Like the backs of my ears and the tops of my toes. Somehow I don't think Georgia will be accepting of my "oh I don't burn, I just tan" skin tone.
A very large bottle of Ibuprofen.
A camping sleeping pad.
Very Strong Bug Repellent.
A white t-shirt, which I will decorate with silly Washington pride phrases.
Fake plastic trees?
A hat. One with a hole in the back for a ponytail. I've always wanted one of those, and now I need it.
Okay so I guess it won't really take a whole lot of effort to check off the BRAG shopping list. But I'm really starting to run out of cash and I wanted to avoid tapping into my CD already (although I do realize I'll cash it out long before maturity.)
In other news, while studying for Spanish at the local Starbucks tonight, our neighboring old man companion decided to butt into the argument on verb conjugation that my study buddy and I were having. I didn't really cotton on to what he was talking about at first (he mentioned something about my Georgetown sweatshirt. I considered interrupting to tell him I found it in the nocturnal exhibit at the zoo, but then realized that's a much more interesting tidbit for things like the Internet.) Eventually however, he made it clear that he used to know Jack Ruby, Lee Harvey Oswald's killer. They used to call him Sparky, he said. Because of his temper. And Jack Ruby's buddy's wife was at the Kennedy Assassination, then went on to marry some important official under Nixon, so she was around for Watergate, too. And that the Cubans probably had little to do with Kennedy's death, but that woman was probably involved somehow. Why was this all relevant? Because the verb conjugation we were arguing about was part of a text about the Kennedy Assassination that we were supposed to be translating.
Man, that old man was cool.
We shared a few choice comments are Salvador Allende's death, how South America is going socialist, and that our book authors obviously have a pro-USA anti-Socialism stance. (The text we were translating also spent a good chunk of time talking about the Cuban Communist Conspiracy Theory.) Then he got mumble-y again and I turned back to trying to recall the differences between pluscuamperfecto, past subjunctive, imperfect subjunctive, present perfect, and oh god I know there are more of them but I try to pretend they don't exist. Seriously, why is there a difference between han perdido, hayan perdido, hubieran perdido, habian perdido, perdieran, and perdieron? And why do I have to remember all the subtle contexts in which each version is necessary?
Alright, I'm stressing about Spanish again, which I had managed to forget about since 10:30. I suppose I'll let it go and call it a night.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
AKC @ Lynden Fair Grounds
Saturday was an adventure of great magnitude. Were I going through an identity crisis, it would have firmly reestablished my bearings on just what kind of person I truly am. A geek. Fortunately, my geek friend accompanied me. Cheers to Morgan, who used to raise and show sheep for 4H, and went just as nuts over the dogs as I did!
First dog of the day, a brown husky. I'm still debating the finer points of a gorgeous brown coat versus the overall chill effect of bright blue eyes on black and white. All the brown coated huskies we saw had brown eyes, so the creepy effect is definitely lost.
A cleaner version of Beethoven.
This is just as freaky now as when I took the photo.
A puli. This one had some serious energy issues (maybe it's inherent with the breed?) The following pictures are the ones I took while trying to capture the dog leaping through the air, dreds flying in all directions.
You can see its face in there.
Christ it had a lot of fur.
Someone botched the poor puppy's 'do.
A leonberger. The males get up to 150 lbs, and grow an actual mane. Giant dogs that don't slobber, are great with kids, and don't need excessive space to function (although obviously, something that size needs to be exercised.) Anyway, basically I fell in love and will own one of these someday.
So I'll never be a nature photographer. Whatever.
Cue to the corgis. I watched The Queen today, and that woman was surrounded by packs of corgis at all times. Looove.
Oh no! Now there are two of them!
Left to right, Irish Wolfhound, Bloodhound, English Foxhound, Whippet.
While watching some sort of show as a child, I was introduced to the Basenji (black dog). They don't shed. At all. Also, they bark very, very rarely. Point? They make excellent apartment dogs. So if this next school year becomes unbearable without a dog around (boy roommates, oddly enough, don't count), I'll be sneaking one of these into the home.
Gorgeous Saluki in the background. I wonder if an English Foxhound is like a giant Beagle. Training it would be horrifying.
Another Basenji photo, which that woman's horrible maroon pantsuit ruined.
Check out the giant Borzoi on the right. Huuuge dogs.
Whippets.
The Irish Wolfhound. I love monster dogs.
First dog of the day, a brown husky. I'm still debating the finer points of a gorgeous brown coat versus the overall chill effect of bright blue eyes on black and white. All the brown coated huskies we saw had brown eyes, so the creepy effect is definitely lost.
A cleaner version of Beethoven.
This is just as freaky now as when I took the photo.
A puli. This one had some serious energy issues (maybe it's inherent with the breed?) The following pictures are the ones I took while trying to capture the dog leaping through the air, dreds flying in all directions.
You can see its face in there.
Christ it had a lot of fur.
Someone botched the poor puppy's 'do.
A leonberger. The males get up to 150 lbs, and grow an actual mane. Giant dogs that don't slobber, are great with kids, and don't need excessive space to function (although obviously, something that size needs to be exercised.) Anyway, basically I fell in love and will own one of these someday.
So I'll never be a nature photographer. Whatever.
Cue to the corgis. I watched The Queen today, and that woman was surrounded by packs of corgis at all times. Looove.
Oh no! Now there are two of them!
Left to right, Irish Wolfhound, Bloodhound, English Foxhound, Whippet.
While watching some sort of show as a child, I was introduced to the Basenji (black dog). They don't shed. At all. Also, they bark very, very rarely. Point? They make excellent apartment dogs. So if this next school year becomes unbearable without a dog around (boy roommates, oddly enough, don't count), I'll be sneaking one of these into the home.
Gorgeous Saluki in the background. I wonder if an English Foxhound is like a giant Beagle. Training it would be horrifying.
Another Basenji photo, which that woman's horrible maroon pantsuit ruined.
Check out the giant Borzoi on the right. Huuuge dogs.
Whippets.
The Irish Wolfhound. I love monster dogs.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Losing Control
Both of my plants are dying. No matter what I do, I don't know how to stop it.
This bothers me more than the fact that I had no answer to the "So what have you been doing with yourself these days? School, booze, boys?" from an old acquaintance tonight.
This bothers me more than the fact that I had no answer to the "So what have you been doing with yourself these days? School, booze, boys?" from an old acquaintance tonight.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
I had birthday cake for dinner!
2 am unable-to-sleep-updates are really the best. I can tell you right now, there is absolutely nothing of importance that will be said in this post.
Saturday evening I messed up my knee (the details of where and how are unknown, just like the sprained wrist.) Monday I got it checked out, the doctors say that rest and relaxation, as well as getting my bike fitted, ibuprofen, and ice packs, will have it back into abuse-ready condition again in no time. Supposedly. They didn't call me about my x-rays, so maybe there's something more dangerous happening? (I hope not! Miss BRAG? Are you nuts?!) I brought this up, however, because I used it as an excuse to extend my skillz check at the pool. I still went to be the victim for the others, though. However, climbing off the backboard, treading water, and jumping into the pool proved pretty darn quick that I really wasn't in skillz check condition. My knee was popping regularly by the end, and I wasn't even there for a full hour. Jayna, in her utter astuteness, mentioned that maybe I shouldn't be working at all.. And she has a point. In case of an emergency, yeah, I could perform up to standards. But the routine of standing around for 5 straight hours does much more to mess up my knee than any rescue could.
In other news, while attempting to give the new Modest Mouse album a good, hard listen, I'm once again repeating The Moon and Antarctica over and over again. Don't get me wrong, their new music is glorious. But it doesn't get into my head the same way.
Saturday evening I messed up my knee (the details of where and how are unknown, just like the sprained wrist.) Monday I got it checked out, the doctors say that rest and relaxation, as well as getting my bike fitted, ibuprofen, and ice packs, will have it back into abuse-ready condition again in no time. Supposedly. They didn't call me about my x-rays, so maybe there's something more dangerous happening? (I hope not! Miss BRAG? Are you nuts?!) I brought this up, however, because I used it as an excuse to extend my skillz check at the pool. I still went to be the victim for the others, though. However, climbing off the backboard, treading water, and jumping into the pool proved pretty darn quick that I really wasn't in skillz check condition. My knee was popping regularly by the end, and I wasn't even there for a full hour. Jayna, in her utter astuteness, mentioned that maybe I shouldn't be working at all.. And she has a point. In case of an emergency, yeah, I could perform up to standards. But the routine of standing around for 5 straight hours does much more to mess up my knee than any rescue could.
In other news, while attempting to give the new Modest Mouse album a good, hard listen, I'm once again repeating The Moon and Antarctica over and over again. Don't get me wrong, their new music is glorious. But it doesn't get into my head the same way.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
I make lists in my free time
With BRAG fast approaching, panic is settling in.
Shimano makes clip-in bicycling sandals, which are exactly what I need for Georgia. Unfortunately, they only come in Men's sizes. Also, the Bellingham REI doesn't carry them in stock.
#1: Visit REI. Try on Men's Shimano bike shoes. Remember size. Order online. Keep in mind shipment will take about 2 weeks.
#2: While at REI, buy some padded bike shorts. Vagina will appreciate it.
Now there's the question of how the most important piece of luggage, my bike, will get to Georgia. Shipping it on the plane is the favored option, but luggage also goes missing and that would be a nightmare.
#3: Call Alaska Airlines and interrogate about shipping policies. Also, make sure bike is counted as my 2nd piece of luggage so I don't have to pay $80 for cargo space.
#4: (although this should probably be done before #3) Find a box to put bike in. Visit Fairhaven Cycles and Kulshan, beg incessantly until they give me a box.
#5: Stock up on sunscreen.
#6: Convince brother that driving to FW on Thursday of Dead Week is a really great idea.
Shimano makes clip-in bicycling sandals, which are exactly what I need for Georgia. Unfortunately, they only come in Men's sizes. Also, the Bellingham REI doesn't carry them in stock.
#1: Visit REI. Try on Men's Shimano bike shoes. Remember size. Order online. Keep in mind shipment will take about 2 weeks.
#2: While at REI, buy some padded bike shorts. Vagina will appreciate it.
Now there's the question of how the most important piece of luggage, my bike, will get to Georgia. Shipping it on the plane is the favored option, but luggage also goes missing and that would be a nightmare.
#3: Call Alaska Airlines and interrogate about shipping policies. Also, make sure bike is counted as my 2nd piece of luggage so I don't have to pay $80 for cargo space.
#4: (although this should probably be done before #3) Find a box to put bike in. Visit Fairhaven Cycles and Kulshan, beg incessantly until they give me a box.
#5: Stock up on sunscreen.
#6: Convince brother that driving to FW on Thursday of Dead Week is a really great idea.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Watching the clock before Spanish
Man I feel so cool when I get motivated and do things. I cleared off my shit-collector (aka the desk I used to have a computer on) and it looks rather lovely, all dark wood and healthy plants and empty space. And then I spread out my statistics book and notes and pop open my laptop, showcasing some marvelous Excel work, and I scoot back in my rolly chair to appreciate it and think, "Wow, now that there is the picture of hard work." Then I take my laptop back onto my bed and plug it back into the internet to fool around and ignore the handy little setup I made. But you know, at least I got closer than usual.
By the way, have you heard the news that The Office might be extended to hour long episodes next season? Bad ass!
By the way, have you heard the news that The Office might be extended to hour long episodes next season? Bad ass!
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Googlear: to google. Estoy googleando.
I got a little excited this afternoon with the news of Seattle's sinkhole. It sent me on a frenzy of sinkhole fascination, causing me once again to bemoan the too-short time we spent on sinkholes in Geology. With a quick (or semi-quick, considering how the internet's been treating me today) image search on Google, I found some pretty great photos.
From Wikipedia (Wikipediar: to wiki. Wikipediamos cuando necesitamos información)
A sinkhole, also known as a sink, shake hole, swallow hole, swallet, doline (in the Slovene language dolina means valley) or cenote, is a natural depression or hole in the surface topography caused by the removal of soil or bedrock, often both, by water. Sinkholes may vary in size from less than a meter to several hundred meters in diameter and depth, and vary in form from soil-lined bowls to bedrock-edged chasms. They may be formed gradually or suddenly, and are found worldwide.
Mechanisms of formation may include the gradual removal of slightly soluble bedrock (such as limestone) by percolating water, the collapse of a cave roof, or a lowering of the water table. Occasionally a sinkhole may exhibit a visible opening into a cave below. In the case of exceptionally large sinkholes, such as Cedar Sink at Mammoth Cave National Park, USA, a stream or river may be visible across its bottom flowing from one side to the other.
That's one pothole you want to avoid on the tractor.
Wikipedia again. "Sinkholes near the Dead Sea, formed by dissolution of underground salt by incoming freshwater, as a result of a continuing sea level drop."
Surprise puddles! Watch out for the crocodiles.
Not very exciting, I know. This was our example of a sinkhole in Geology. Thor really failed on the entertainment factor during that unit.
Some poor Yankee's truck.
This is actually a cenote. Someday, during my endless travels around Latin America, I'm going to visit this place.
View from the bottom.
Florida knows how to play to its strong points.
From Wikipedia (Wikipediar: to wiki. Wikipediamos cuando necesitamos información)
A sinkhole, also known as a sink, shake hole, swallow hole, swallet, doline (in the Slovene language dolina means valley) or cenote, is a natural depression or hole in the surface topography caused by the removal of soil or bedrock, often both, by water. Sinkholes may vary in size from less than a meter to several hundred meters in diameter and depth, and vary in form from soil-lined bowls to bedrock-edged chasms. They may be formed gradually or suddenly, and are found worldwide.
Mechanisms of formation may include the gradual removal of slightly soluble bedrock (such as limestone) by percolating water, the collapse of a cave roof, or a lowering of the water table. Occasionally a sinkhole may exhibit a visible opening into a cave below. In the case of exceptionally large sinkholes, such as Cedar Sink at Mammoth Cave National Park, USA, a stream or river may be visible across its bottom flowing from one side to the other.
That's one pothole you want to avoid on the tractor.
Wikipedia again. "Sinkholes near the Dead Sea, formed by dissolution of underground salt by incoming freshwater, as a result of a continuing sea level drop."
Surprise puddles! Watch out for the crocodiles.
Not very exciting, I know. This was our example of a sinkhole in Geology. Thor really failed on the entertainment factor during that unit.
Some poor Yankee's truck.
This is actually a cenote. Someday, during my endless travels around Latin America, I'm going to visit this place.
View from the bottom.
Florida knows how to play to its strong points.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Testing the Boundaries of The Law
Should the need ever arise, I know how to make 8 year old boys fall helplessly in love. Push them.
It's worked too many times for me to doubt it. Push them off the diving board, they love you. Push them into the pool, the adore you. Shove them down the water slide while they're hesitating - instant infatuation. Physically pick them up and set them down somewhere out of the way you're trying to walk, and you've got yourself a new stalker.
It's really quite adorable.
It's worked too many times for me to doubt it. Push them off the diving board, they love you. Push them into the pool, the adore you. Shove them down the water slide while they're hesitating - instant infatuation. Physically pick them up and set them down somewhere out of the way you're trying to walk, and you've got yourself a new stalker.
It's really quite adorable.
Friday, April 27, 2007
After a 10 hour nap
"I'm at a loss, you were my tangerine,
my pussycat, my trampoline" -Dog Problems, The Format
The best bit of going to Kyla's wedding back in March was the realization that my parents had joined the rest of the world and signed up for On Demand. I haven't watched Music Video programming since.. oh God... not since seventh grade of Junior High when I actually came home from school and demanded that my brothers change the channel to MTV. You know, so I could see who was in the #1 slot on TRL. So when I realized On Demand has an entire cache of music videos (without all those nasty commercials and DJs) I kind of blew a gasket. I watched every damn video they had, with especial love for The Format video (a sock puppet crying about a lost love! with a top hat!)
After spending all afternoon with Ryan Burrell, a friend from the days of MTV love, I'm feeling a bit nostalgic for Federal Way. Actually, it's not really nostalgia. It's an actual hopeful, kind of excited outlook about going back to the F-Dub this summer. I'll have On Demand. I'll have an entire slew of old high school friends to track down. I'll have Redondo! That blessed bit of half-mile boardwalk is just begging me to come back.
my pussycat, my trampoline" -Dog Problems, The Format
The best bit of going to Kyla's wedding back in March was the realization that my parents had joined the rest of the world and signed up for On Demand. I haven't watched Music Video programming since.. oh God... not since seventh grade of Junior High when I actually came home from school and demanded that my brothers change the channel to MTV. You know, so I could see who was in the #1 slot on TRL. So when I realized On Demand has an entire cache of music videos (without all those nasty commercials and DJs) I kind of blew a gasket. I watched every damn video they had, with especial love for The Format video (a sock puppet crying about a lost love! with a top hat!)
After spending all afternoon with Ryan Burrell, a friend from the days of MTV love, I'm feeling a bit nostalgic for Federal Way. Actually, it's not really nostalgia. It's an actual hopeful, kind of excited outlook about going back to the F-Dub this summer. I'll have On Demand. I'll have an entire slew of old high school friends to track down. I'll have Redondo! That blessed bit of half-mile boardwalk is just begging me to come back.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
If Britney can, I can
Oh Tuesday
Laundry Day
Waiting for the Mail Day
Day of Too Many Cigarettes
Bad Hair Day
Fancy Shoes Day
Running Day
Tuesday, I think we need to talk about what you mean to me. You're simply too long and empty for this relationship to keep working.
If I had a car, I'd drive to Canada. Or Seattle. Most likely Federal Way, where I could kidnap a dearly missed friend and drink coffee until the sun goes down.
If I were just a bit less optimistic about what this day might bring, I'd go to Hollywood Video, rent 3 select movies, and give up the day to sprawling on the couch.
Instead, I'm going to go beg Irene to take me to Goodwill.
Oh, and the Britney title is in reference to her new, hot, rockin' bod. Have you seen the pictures? Tasty. My morning runs better get me the same results, or I'm going to be angry.
10:20 update
By the way, Tuesday, I also don't appreciate you toying with my hormones. Yes, boys with well-grown facial hair are exceptionally attractive. I don't need your constant reminders.
Laundry Day
Waiting for the Mail Day
Day of Too Many Cigarettes
Bad Hair Day
Fancy Shoes Day
Running Day
Tuesday, I think we need to talk about what you mean to me. You're simply too long and empty for this relationship to keep working.
If I had a car, I'd drive to Canada. Or Seattle. Most likely Federal Way, where I could kidnap a dearly missed friend and drink coffee until the sun goes down.
If I were just a bit less optimistic about what this day might bring, I'd go to Hollywood Video, rent 3 select movies, and give up the day to sprawling on the couch.
Instead, I'm going to go beg Irene to take me to Goodwill.
Oh, and the Britney title is in reference to her new, hot, rockin' bod. Have you seen the pictures? Tasty. My morning runs better get me the same results, or I'm going to be angry.
10:20 update
By the way, Tuesday, I also don't appreciate you toying with my hormones. Yes, boys with well-grown facial hair are exceptionally attractive. I don't need your constant reminders.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
You will surely find this pleasing to your ears
How do I manage to be so slick? I sprained my wrist today at work. You know, that work I do, at the pool, with all the heavy lifting and dangerous actions. And by all that, I mean I was standing, bored, twisting my wrist around to hear it pop for fun, and sprained it. Just like that. Typing this hurts terribly but I just had to share.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Mayo = Not Okay Anymore
Well, I missed the deadline for an accurate date (because really, who ever looks at the time stamp?)
Anger-causing subject of the day:
People Who Throw Things at Bikers
You may recall the incident of Wine Party #2, in which an empty soda bottle was thrown at me. That night had some redeeming qualities and the super-pissed and hateful feelings were set on the back burner.
Tonight I got hit with an egg. Two blocks from my house. By, surprise surprise, boys in a truck. So from now on, all you Bellingham boys with trucks (or even friends with trucks, since it was the fucker in the passenger side that threw it) are on my shit list.
I'm not sure which is more entertaining. Imagining new and creative ways to force the egg-throwers to grovel before me for forgiveness, or running with the idea of them developing such a guilty conscience later in life that they can neither look at bikers nor eat eggs ever again.
But on a slightly more positive note, earlier this evening I got a call from long-time friend Ryan Burrel, who likes to pop in and out of life every year or two. Our conversation only lasted 20 minutes, but I laughed more during that time than I have since I came down with strep on Monday. He's coming for a visit next Thursday, for which I am stoked.
Anger-causing subject of the day:
People Who Throw Things at Bikers
You may recall the incident of Wine Party #2, in which an empty soda bottle was thrown at me. That night had some redeeming qualities and the super-pissed and hateful feelings were set on the back burner.
Tonight I got hit with an egg. Two blocks from my house. By, surprise surprise, boys in a truck. So from now on, all you Bellingham boys with trucks (or even friends with trucks, since it was the fucker in the passenger side that threw it) are on my shit list.
I'm not sure which is more entertaining. Imagining new and creative ways to force the egg-throwers to grovel before me for forgiveness, or running with the idea of them developing such a guilty conscience later in life that they can neither look at bikers nor eat eggs ever again.
But on a slightly more positive note, earlier this evening I got a call from long-time friend Ryan Burrel, who likes to pop in and out of life every year or two. Our conversation only lasted 20 minutes, but I laughed more during that time than I have since I came down with strep on Monday. He's coming for a visit next Thursday, for which I am stoked.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Some things of interest only to myself
I love taking pictures of myself when I'm drunk. I also love having my picture taken while drunk.
I have an entire folder of photos of myself entitled "Narcissism".
I love talking about myself. I love writing about myself, as witnessed by this blog.
I love sitting and thinking about how wonderful and cool I think I am.
I hate admitting that I'm completely, 100% self-involved.
I hate when people compliment me because I really don't like being talked about. I want to do the talking. You do the listening. Then you can follow up my monologue with one about yourself.
I hate that I spent the greater portion of this gorgeous day either working or laying in bed, trying to sleep as long as possible.
I hate that I didn't get to ride my bike in the sun today (going to work doesn't count.)
I dislike that my coworker likes to complain about her life and how hard people make it for her. It makes me want to do the same, which I resent, and I end up sullenly grunting off her comments by the end of the shift.
I also dislike my messed up dye job. And that I don't want to tempt it more by trying to fix it. Bad hair I can live with, horrifying hair I'd shave completely off. Going the way of Britney is never an acceptable path.
I have an entire folder of photos of myself entitled "Narcissism".
I love talking about myself. I love writing about myself, as witnessed by this blog.
I love sitting and thinking about how wonderful and cool I think I am.
I hate admitting that I'm completely, 100% self-involved.
I hate when people compliment me because I really don't like being talked about. I want to do the talking. You do the listening. Then you can follow up my monologue with one about yourself.
I hate that I spent the greater portion of this gorgeous day either working or laying in bed, trying to sleep as long as possible.
I hate that I didn't get to ride my bike in the sun today (going to work doesn't count.)
I dislike that my coworker likes to complain about her life and how hard people make it for her. It makes me want to do the same, which I resent, and I end up sullenly grunting off her comments by the end of the shift.
I also dislike my messed up dye job. And that I don't want to tempt it more by trying to fix it. Bad hair I can live with, horrifying hair I'd shave completely off. Going the way of Britney is never an acceptable path.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Friday, don't let me down
Let's start with the fact that I didn't get to bed until 4 am. This is the only ingredient required for a day-long migraine, apparently. Which I tried to soothe with a lovely, wonderful, fantastic americano. But instead I aggravated it by hitting my head very hard against the non-padded part of the green Salvador Dali couch in the Underground. I'll admit freely right here, right now, that I cried. It fucking hurt.
Fortunately Whitey is a fantastic motherfucker who let me bum a cigarette. Smoking, drinking coffee, and overlooking Bellingham Bay didn't ease the migraine one bit, but it brought on a zen-like feeling of acceptance that made it bearable.
Plus today was another day with Thor and the dinosaurs. It's hard to feel sorry for yourself when you're watching clips of people getting their arms twisted off by crocodiles.
In other news, holy shit. Check out the median income for white Manhattan families. That holy shit? That was said out loud. I cannot imagine making that much money by the time I'm 30, but I promise I won't complain if I do.
Fortunately Whitey is a fantastic motherfucker who let me bum a cigarette. Smoking, drinking coffee, and overlooking Bellingham Bay didn't ease the migraine one bit, but it brought on a zen-like feeling of acceptance that made it bearable.
Plus today was another day with Thor and the dinosaurs. It's hard to feel sorry for yourself when you're watching clips of people getting their arms twisted off by crocodiles.
In other news, holy shit. Check out the median income for white Manhattan families. That holy shit? That was said out loud. I cannot imagine making that much money by the time I'm 30, but I promise I won't complain if I do.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Too much sun? Never!
An 8 am run around the neighborhood followed by 20 minutes of good ab crunching should be the key to a healthy and well-lived day. I got the well-lived part down pat, but healthy? Not at all. Instead I devoured whatever food was placed in front of me (which I guess makes up for yesterday's one lonely meal). I even trekked halfway across campus for a pint of ice cream. If that all wasn't enough, it was a Porch Night, and I made it through about 5 cigarettes in an hour. It's been decided that Nick and I will be chain smokers by this time next year. Unless we can find something else to be friends over. Maybe video games.
Good news to everyone! (Or maybe bad news to all but me.) New camera has arrived! It's attached to my wrist and never leaving again. Picture opportunities abound at every moment.
Good news to everyone! (Or maybe bad news to all but me.) New camera has arrived! It's attached to my wrist and never leaving again. Picture opportunities abound at every moment.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Fulfilling my plans for success
"So, tell me, who did something interesting today?"
I raise my hand timidly. "Um, I rode my bike 30 miles out to the Lummi Nation and back. It made my vagina hurt. Then I did water aerobics, because you know, water equals stretching? I'm starting to think I should have eaten more than a burrito today."
I raise my hand timidly. "Um, I rode my bike 30 miles out to the Lummi Nation and back. It made my vagina hurt. Then I did water aerobics, because you know, water equals stretching? I'm starting to think I should have eaten more than a burrito today."
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Salvation is Free
I really, really need to look into getting a car. I should have started cooking an hour ago. I keep putting it off because carrying all the ingredients home is going to be an absolute bitch.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
How to Enjoy a Bad Day
Yesterday and today I had the wonderful pleasure of dealing with Grade A Asshole business profs. I had to drop a class this afternoon due to complete ass-hattery going on in the Management department. Thank God UW isn't a huge concern anymore - this has officially fucked all my chances of UW Business School Fall'07. Twelve credits to look forward to all quarter. I'm either going to join the Western Cycling team or take up knitting again.
Fortunately, angry vase-smashing disaster behavior was averted with surprising ease.
1) Bandito's Burrito followed by Mallard's sundae.
2) Twenty foot tall bush fire, eyewitnessed.
3) Visually pleasing, high-strung political kung fu movie. Ridiculous logistic errors (just where do they store all those flowers?), spider-like ninja assassins, and the fail-safe "I just fucked my sister" look.
4) Chain smoking on the porch with Nick
5) Next Red House Party marked on the calendar
Oh, and my parents are coming to visit on Saturday, and bringing the replacement camera with them. Spring's looking good, even if it's already veering completely off the course I expected it to take.
Fortunately, angry vase-smashing disaster behavior was averted with surprising ease.
1) Bandito's Burrito followed by Mallard's sundae.
2) Twenty foot tall bush fire, eyewitnessed.
3) Visually pleasing, high-strung political kung fu movie. Ridiculous logistic errors (just where do they store all those flowers?), spider-like ninja assassins, and the fail-safe "I just fucked my sister" look.
4) Chain smoking on the porch with Nick
5) Next Red House Party marked on the calendar
Oh, and my parents are coming to visit on Saturday, and bringing the replacement camera with them. Spring's looking good, even if it's already veering completely off the course I expected it to take.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
it seems like i've never been to the san juans
Two hours after work, and still the only thoughts going through my head are smashing grinding metal sounds. Why? Why are people so goddamn stupid sometimes?
I was holding up pretty well. Then my coworker started complaining, which naturally leads to the drag-down. The sun had been taunting me through the thick glass windows all day (you know, when it wasn't hailing). The children were screaming. The stupid fucking teenagers were trying to wear baby life jackets. Arrgh. That one kid. I had to instruct him movement-by-movement: come here. stand up. climb out of the water. put your arms straight up. hold still. put your arms back up. He was fifteen! How hard is it to just own up and take off the life jacket?!
Smash. Grind. Squeal. I wish I could operate some kind of construction vehicle right now. Destroy a few buildings, dig a few holes, really let this frustration vent.
I really like lifeguarding. I like the friendly old folks and the cute kids and even the Russians who sit in the hot tub and argue. In Russian. But I do not like it when I start to doubt the public's ability to not be stupid.
So here I am, cranky and angry and bone-tired, about ready to fall asleep. Except I'm listening to Minus the Bear and kind of feel like making plans to ferry out to the San Juans tomorrow.
I was holding up pretty well. Then my coworker started complaining, which naturally leads to the drag-down. The sun had been taunting me through the thick glass windows all day (you know, when it wasn't hailing). The children were screaming. The stupid fucking teenagers were trying to wear baby life jackets. Arrgh. That one kid. I had to instruct him movement-by-movement: come here. stand up. climb out of the water. put your arms straight up. hold still. put your arms back up. He was fifteen! How hard is it to just own up and take off the life jacket?!
Smash. Grind. Squeal. I wish I could operate some kind of construction vehicle right now. Destroy a few buildings, dig a few holes, really let this frustration vent.
I really like lifeguarding. I like the friendly old folks and the cute kids and even the Russians who sit in the hot tub and argue. In Russian. But I do not like it when I start to doubt the public's ability to not be stupid.
So here I am, cranky and angry and bone-tired, about ready to fall asleep. Except I'm listening to Minus the Bear and kind of feel like making plans to ferry out to the San Juans tomorrow.
1 hour countdown to work begins... 5 minutes ago
Facebook has gone and done something very weird to itself. They're now displaying messages about groups as if they're real people. Example: Harry and Voldemort have changed their relationship status to "Mortal Enemies". Ummm... So then I clicked Voldemort's name and found two fantastic Facebook groups. 1) Chuck Norris roundhouse kicks Voldemort to the face... The End 2) Britney Spears kinda looks like Voldemort
Really, shouldn't be laughing at celebrity breakdowns, but the picture comparison was really unnerving.
Also, comments about last night: Four square + bonfire + keg of Boundary Bay = one hell of a shindig.
Really, shouldn't be laughing at celebrity breakdowns, but the picture comparison was really unnerving.
Also, comments about last night: Four square + bonfire + keg of Boundary Bay = one hell of a shindig.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Biking as usual
This afternoon was one of the lovelier Bellingham days. Much like Sunday, except I didn't have to work. The lovely factor goes up quite a bit when I'm able to enjoy it.
All sorts of fantastic things happened. Remember when I used to really, truly love car rides? Remember how just a few days ago I was really jonesing for a car? (Honestly, that's every day, but I try not to write about it too often.) Well that craving has been completely and utterly satisfied (for now). Seth and I sat together in the bed of Irene's truck while we hauled masses of bikes all over town. The sun shone, the wind whipped our hair, and we thoroughly enjoyed watching the scenery go by.
The biking bit itself was glorious, only a little bit of a letdown at the end. We took on several hills in different neighborhoods before deciding on heading out on Chuckanut. We made it out to Larrabee before Irene's smoker lungs gave out, so we sat on the grass and waited for our truck ride home. Ten miles, all told. Not as much as we should be doing to prep for Georgia, but excellent considering that weather and sickness has kept me off the roads off and on all Winter Quarter. If the weather plans on being pretty like this more often, that bike is going to have many, many more kilometers added to the odometer (115 right now - that's unfortunately only 66 miles - about one day's worth of BRAG.)
Um, actually I'm pretty tuckered out right now. Big plans for Spring Break include: biking, camping, drinking. In that order.
All sorts of fantastic things happened. Remember when I used to really, truly love car rides? Remember how just a few days ago I was really jonesing for a car? (Honestly, that's every day, but I try not to write about it too often.) Well that craving has been completely and utterly satisfied (for now). Seth and I sat together in the bed of Irene's truck while we hauled masses of bikes all over town. The sun shone, the wind whipped our hair, and we thoroughly enjoyed watching the scenery go by.
The biking bit itself was glorious, only a little bit of a letdown at the end. We took on several hills in different neighborhoods before deciding on heading out on Chuckanut. We made it out to Larrabee before Irene's smoker lungs gave out, so we sat on the grass and waited for our truck ride home. Ten miles, all told. Not as much as we should be doing to prep for Georgia, but excellent considering that weather and sickness has kept me off the roads off and on all Winter Quarter. If the weather plans on being pretty like this more often, that bike is going to have many, many more kilometers added to the odometer (115 right now - that's unfortunately only 66 miles - about one day's worth of BRAG.)
Um, actually I'm pretty tuckered out right now. Big plans for Spring Break include: biking, camping, drinking. In that order.
Friday, March 23, 2007
never gonna find another man like that
Who knows what the future will bring? Blog posts may drop off in the face of no-more-finals, seeing as how I no longer need to log my hours and hours of distractions from studying.
Then again, I might be putting up EVEN MORE items on here, seeing as I have roughly 240 hours before classes start again, and about 15 of those hours in scheduled work time. The plan to stay in Bellingham and work over break? Failed. Miserably. I will be looking for absolutely anything to do to pass the time.
Two people are fishing. Man refers to fish as "she".
Woman: How do you know it's a girl?
Man: Her mouth is open. Now shut up.
Ahahaha, thank you Whitey, Father Goose was really close to the funniest classic I've watched.
And on that note, take some time to think to yourself: What did I know first about Marilyn Monroe? That she was a singer or an actor? Then quiz your friends. Weird results. I even ran into someone who thought she started as a pinup girl.
Then again, I might be putting up EVEN MORE items on here, seeing as I have roughly 240 hours before classes start again, and about 15 of those hours in scheduled work time. The plan to stay in Bellingham and work over break? Failed. Miserably. I will be looking for absolutely anything to do to pass the time.
Two people are fishing. Man refers to fish as "she".
Woman: How do you know it's a girl?
Man: Her mouth is open. Now shut up.
Ahahaha, thank you Whitey, Father Goose was really close to the funniest classic I've watched.
And on that note, take some time to think to yourself: What did I know first about Marilyn Monroe? That she was a singer or an actor? Then quiz your friends. Weird results. I even ran into someone who thought she started as a pinup girl.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
not hungry, not thirsty, not sleepy
So I've definitely been awake for the last hour and a half. This is a new one - isn't passing out drunk supposed to guarantee a full night's sleep? My last final is in 4.5 hours... Not sure what I'm going to do about this.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Deleting Bookmarks
http://lucysspleen.blogs.com/lucys_spleen/2006/10/vocabulary_assi.html
Ahh, I still laugh uproariously every time I read this.
http://www.wwoof.org/
Interesting, but not exactly useful.
http://imreallysad.com/554
http://www.ducttapefashion.com/games/battleship.htm
Oh God this devoured my life this summer.
Ahh, I still laugh uproariously every time I read this.
http://www.wwoof.org/
Interesting, but not exactly useful.
http://imreallysad.com/554
http://www.ducttapefashion.com/games/battleship.htm
Oh God this devoured my life this summer.
AE=1/(1-MPC)(a+bYD)+I+G
In the "secret" computer lab under Miller, some poor finals-hassled college student with red-rimmed eyes looks up when I come in.
"Is it daylight outside?"
Just barely, pobrecito.
"Is it daylight outside?"
Just barely, pobrecito.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
This was supposed to take 5 minutes, tops
Spent the day doing fantastic distraction activities. Red Robin with Irene and Seth, then Twilight Princess at Seth's (yayy!). Rented The History of the World Part I but sadly, I got a bad case of the guilts and had to leave early. Which was totally pointless, because I haven't done anything except put away my laundry since.
The important information here is that if Irene moves away next year (which, mean as it is, I really hope she doesn't. I don't want to live alone!!)... If she moves away next year she'll sell me her truck. Personally, I've never seen myself as a truck girl. That was always Elaina's role. I drove the Buick! the Tank! The hulking machine of steel that could drive over tree stumps without hesitation (granted, I was high when it happened. Impressive, no?)
Buick reminiscing time begins: now! During the first summer of rowing, my crew buddy Michelle and I brought home some boys from an Alki Beach Party. The night went well, and the next morning found one still passed out in the back of my car while we went to practice. We came back from putting away the boats to find the boy's foot sticking out of the open door, trying to sleep despite the heat and the sun.
I used to take the Buick down to Elaina's once a month or so. The road trip itself was the best part. One time I attempted to pass a car, but misjudged the oncoming car and the Buick's ability to accelerate. Both cars swerved to the sides of the road, I gripped the steering wheel with wild eyes, and kept driving. At 16, I really put my life on the line.
Another time I snuck out to visit a friend in Tacoma. Come 3 am, we discovered that the Buick wouldn't start. So out came the tow truck, who kindly helped me stick the Buick in its usual parking spot out in front of the house. $150 and 2.5 hours later, I was home free. I stayed up that whole night and took the bus to school the next morning (after I "discovered" that the car wouldn't start.)
Another time the Buick broke down: when I drove up to Redmond to visit David and William. It died in an intersection, and the poor video gamers had to get out and push the car into the Jiffy Lube. The mechanics looked it over, said it was fixed, and not 3 minutes onto I-5 heading home, it died again.
More Buick stories, you say? Okay, Tuey's birthday, senior year. Picked up Cole from Shoreline, who proceeded to smoke pot the whole drive back. He even waved at the little babies in the minivans.
Incubus concert. Bob and I played in the fountain, then were too frozen to pay attention to the band. As soon as the last set was over, we booked it back to my car. Pulled the stolen picnic blanket out of the trunk, cranked up the heat, and sat quietly content in Seattle traffic while we slowly got feeling back.
The stolen picnic blanket, you ask? Well, Jon and I were having a terrible day. Actually, I think it was mostly just me. After sitting in the grass at Dumas Bay for a good hour, talking quietly and soaking in some late spring sunshine, we noticed that the people across the field had gone down to the beach. And left their blanket. Jon and I, both being the adventurous sort, and also in need of some excitement after a rather long-winded and depressing conversation, immediately knew what to do. We grabbed it and ran.
So where's the Buick now? Good question. July 3, 2005, Chanel and I drove up to Bellingham to visit Brent. We stayed up all night, doing usual wild young thing activities, and headed back to Fedtown around 9 am. (I had to work at 3, I believe.) Being all sorts of tired and cranky, I crawled into the backseat and let the girl drive. Unfortunately, the last automatic she'd driven was RJ's, and forgot that we had different settings. Yes, that's right. She took the Buick onto I-5 in Drive 2. After about 45 minutes, it gave up the ghost. We got it into a Rest Stop and proceeded to wait until my dad came to pick us up. Fortunately, the radio still worked, so we put on a CD and sprawled across the roof of the car. My dad arrived, called a tow company, and got us home in time for work that afternoon. The only souvenirs from that day are: a snapshot of the two of us sitting on the hood, and the Buick symbol on my keychain. Plus the heartbreaking reminder every time I pass that rest stop on the ride between Fedtown and Bellingham.
This post is disgustingly long, I apologize. The whole point in the first place was to talk about how I might be driving Irene's truck next year. I was eyeing the old pickup and had a genius thought. I could cart a dog around in the back of that thing.
The important information here is that if Irene moves away next year (which, mean as it is, I really hope she doesn't. I don't want to live alone!!)... If she moves away next year she'll sell me her truck. Personally, I've never seen myself as a truck girl. That was always Elaina's role. I drove the Buick! the Tank! The hulking machine of steel that could drive over tree stumps without hesitation (granted, I was high when it happened. Impressive, no?)
Buick reminiscing time begins: now! During the first summer of rowing, my crew buddy Michelle and I brought home some boys from an Alki Beach Party. The night went well, and the next morning found one still passed out in the back of my car while we went to practice. We came back from putting away the boats to find the boy's foot sticking out of the open door, trying to sleep despite the heat and the sun.
I used to take the Buick down to Elaina's once a month or so. The road trip itself was the best part. One time I attempted to pass a car, but misjudged the oncoming car and the Buick's ability to accelerate. Both cars swerved to the sides of the road, I gripped the steering wheel with wild eyes, and kept driving. At 16, I really put my life on the line.
Another time I snuck out to visit a friend in Tacoma. Come 3 am, we discovered that the Buick wouldn't start. So out came the tow truck, who kindly helped me stick the Buick in its usual parking spot out in front of the house. $150 and 2.5 hours later, I was home free. I stayed up that whole night and took the bus to school the next morning (after I "discovered" that the car wouldn't start.)
Another time the Buick broke down: when I drove up to Redmond to visit David and William. It died in an intersection, and the poor video gamers had to get out and push the car into the Jiffy Lube. The mechanics looked it over, said it was fixed, and not 3 minutes onto I-5 heading home, it died again.
More Buick stories, you say? Okay, Tuey's birthday, senior year. Picked up Cole from Shoreline, who proceeded to smoke pot the whole drive back. He even waved at the little babies in the minivans.
Incubus concert. Bob and I played in the fountain, then were too frozen to pay attention to the band. As soon as the last set was over, we booked it back to my car. Pulled the stolen picnic blanket out of the trunk, cranked up the heat, and sat quietly content in Seattle traffic while we slowly got feeling back.
The stolen picnic blanket, you ask? Well, Jon and I were having a terrible day. Actually, I think it was mostly just me. After sitting in the grass at Dumas Bay for a good hour, talking quietly and soaking in some late spring sunshine, we noticed that the people across the field had gone down to the beach. And left their blanket. Jon and I, both being the adventurous sort, and also in need of some excitement after a rather long-winded and depressing conversation, immediately knew what to do. We grabbed it and ran.
So where's the Buick now? Good question. July 3, 2005, Chanel and I drove up to Bellingham to visit Brent. We stayed up all night, doing usual wild young thing activities, and headed back to Fedtown around 9 am. (I had to work at 3, I believe.) Being all sorts of tired and cranky, I crawled into the backseat and let the girl drive. Unfortunately, the last automatic she'd driven was RJ's, and forgot that we had different settings. Yes, that's right. She took the Buick onto I-5 in Drive 2. After about 45 minutes, it gave up the ghost. We got it into a Rest Stop and proceeded to wait until my dad came to pick us up. Fortunately, the radio still worked, so we put on a CD and sprawled across the roof of the car. My dad arrived, called a tow company, and got us home in time for work that afternoon. The only souvenirs from that day are: a snapshot of the two of us sitting on the hood, and the Buick symbol on my keychain. Plus the heartbreaking reminder every time I pass that rest stop on the ride between Fedtown and Bellingham.
This post is disgustingly long, I apologize. The whole point in the first place was to talk about how I might be driving Irene's truck next year. I was eyeing the old pickup and had a genius thought. I could cart a dog around in the back of that thing.
Halvsies
Halfway through Finals Week.
Halfway through a box of Cadbury Eggs.
Half and half required in my daily Finals Week Americano.
Half decided to cut new bangs for myself.
Half convinced that bangs are the worst idea ever.
Halfway finished with the practice econ quiz.
Half paying attention to IM conversations.
1/2 through La Belle Et Le Bad Boy
1/2 done with laundry.
Half ready to drop everything and go on a bike ride.
1/2 sure the landlord thinks I'm an idiot for first locking myself in the laundry room, then locking myself out
Halfway through a box of Cadbury Eggs.
Half and half required in my daily Finals Week Americano.
Half decided to cut new bangs for myself.
Half convinced that bangs are the worst idea ever.
Halfway finished with the practice econ quiz.
Half paying attention to IM conversations.
1/2 through La Belle Et Le Bad Boy
1/2 done with laundry.
Half ready to drop everything and go on a bike ride.
1/2 sure the landlord thinks I'm an idiot for first locking myself in the laundry room, then locking myself out
Saturday, March 17, 2007
w00t w00t
Oh hell yeah. My mom did a little shopping around last night after I called her about Peru. She used up the last of her airline miles to buy me a first class ticket on Delta Airlines to Peru.
Okay, so I won't be in town for as many days before and after as I might have liked. No chance to really explore the streets of Lima.
But first class! And free! I thought I was going to be paying something like $900 just to get there. This is about as fantastic as it gets.
So I'm totally okay with the fact that she called me this morning and woke me up into a hangover.
Okay, so I won't be in town for as many days before and after as I might have liked. No chance to really explore the streets of Lima.
But first class! And free! I thought I was going to be paying something like $900 just to get there. This is about as fantastic as it gets.
So I'm totally okay with the fact that she called me this morning and woke me up into a hangover.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Peru Peru Peru!
I'll be embarking on a Friday night St. Patty's Day Pre-funk Adventure pretty soon here, but I felt like sharing something with you all. If you can't figure it out from the blog title, you're dumb.
I'm going to Peru this summer!
I guess there wasn't really any doubt whether it was going to work or not. Private programs like that take anyone who applies and is willing to pay the fee. But I just got the acceptance letter 45 minutes ago and went crazy looking up plane tickets and schedules. I can get to Lima for $715, round trip. Check it, that is $45 less than it was going to cost me to get to Georgia, had my parents not used their air miles. Make sense? Hell no. Crazy cool? Definitely.
So the next couple weeks or so, I'm going to be doing a giddy little Spanish dance in my head at all times. If I seem quiet or distracted, it's because I'm daydreaming about snow and alpacas and drinking beer and kayaking and finding the perfect piece of Andes Mountain Andesite for Ryan.
I'm going to Peru this summer!
I guess there wasn't really any doubt whether it was going to work or not. Private programs like that take anyone who applies and is willing to pay the fee. But I just got the acceptance letter 45 minutes ago and went crazy looking up plane tickets and schedules. I can get to Lima for $715, round trip. Check it, that is $45 less than it was going to cost me to get to Georgia, had my parents not used their air miles. Make sense? Hell no. Crazy cool? Definitely.
So the next couple weeks or so, I'm going to be doing a giddy little Spanish dance in my head at all times. If I seem quiet or distracted, it's because I'm daydreaming about snow and alpacas and drinking beer and kayaking and finding the perfect piece of Andes Mountain Andesite for Ryan.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Cadbury Mini Eggs
Oh God I am terrible at this studying thing. Absolutely horrible. I don't think I've had a decent studying ability since last winter when I tried to kill myself over calculus, and even then I dropped out of one of my classes after a month.
Here is an example of what it's like when I try to read my textbook:
"In October, Tree Top's first month of operation, the company was able to sell every mailbox produced. By the end of October, they had made and sold 300 mailboxes" (Hmm, well that means they should step up production. There's a demand for new mailboxes in the area. But wait. What if they use up the market demand for new mailboxes? People don't just go out and buy a new mailbox every few months. They'd have to expand their market. Or find a way to get people to buy more than one. Ooh, they could go around a put firecrackers in mailboxes. Vandalism is fun. Like that one movie, what was it? Where the kids blew up a mailbox and killed a woman and her baby. Ohh, what was that movie? Then somehow they went back in time and the evil kid somehow became a hero by pushing the lady out of the way... Butterfly Effect, that was it! With Ashton Kutcher. But wait, that kid really was bad. Ashton Kutcher was supposed to be the hero. How did that other kid get the glory?) And so this thought process goes on for a few more lines, trying to figure out the plot of the movie, until I bring myself back to focus on the next page of the textbook (yeah, I was "reading" the whole time) to this: "In addition to the amount of direct material used, the price per measure of direct material will affect the total cost of direct material. The direct material price standard is the anticipated cost for each item of direct material used in the manufacture of a product."
About 20 minutes later I was napping. And I never want to hear the phrase "direct material" ever again.
Here is an example of what it's like when I try to read my textbook:
"In October, Tree Top's first month of operation, the company was able to sell every mailbox produced. By the end of October, they had made and sold 300 mailboxes" (Hmm, well that means they should step up production. There's a demand for new mailboxes in the area. But wait. What if they use up the market demand for new mailboxes? People don't just go out and buy a new mailbox every few months. They'd have to expand their market. Or find a way to get people to buy more than one. Ooh, they could go around a put firecrackers in mailboxes. Vandalism is fun. Like that one movie, what was it? Where the kids blew up a mailbox and killed a woman and her baby. Ohh, what was that movie? Then somehow they went back in time and the evil kid somehow became a hero by pushing the lady out of the way... Butterfly Effect, that was it! With Ashton Kutcher. But wait, that kid really was bad. Ashton Kutcher was supposed to be the hero. How did that other kid get the glory?) And so this thought process goes on for a few more lines, trying to figure out the plot of the movie, until I bring myself back to focus on the next page of the textbook (yeah, I was "reading" the whole time) to this: "In addition to the amount of direct material used, the price per measure of direct material will affect the total cost of direct material. The direct material price standard is the anticipated cost for each item of direct material used in the manufacture of a product."
About 20 minutes later I was napping. And I never want to hear the phrase "direct material" ever again.
I rode my bike 21 miles today! =D
I will be going to bed soon, I promise. But this whole Internet-while-lying-down thing is really, really unhealthy for my productivity.
http://www.defectiveyeti.com/ had a little contest, where folks revamped old sayings. Here are a few of my favorites:
Always a bridesmaid, never the bride --> I'm not the hero of this story. (Brent and I had another lengthy conversation while driving back from Federal Way. His way of coping with the realization that the world he grew up in as a child didn't actually revolve around him? "I just go about my day imagining I'm the hero.")
The coast is clear --> The porn is deleted
Come hell or high water --> Even if they send in Chinese tanks
He's yesterday's news --> He's a stamp-licker
Looking for a needle in a haystack --> Trying to find a clock in a casino
Nice guys finish last --> No one remembers Ivan the Wonderful (for Nick)
http://www.defectiveyeti.com/ had a little contest, where folks revamped old sayings. Here are a few of my favorites:
Always a bridesmaid, never the bride --> I'm not the hero of this story. (Brent and I had another lengthy conversation while driving back from Federal Way. His way of coping with the realization that the world he grew up in as a child didn't actually revolve around him? "I just go about my day imagining I'm the hero.")
The coast is clear --> The porn is deleted
Come hell or high water --> Even if they send in Chinese tanks
He's yesterday's news --> He's a stamp-licker
Looking for a needle in a haystack --> Trying to find a clock in a casino
Nice guys finish last --> No one remembers Ivan the Wonderful (for Nick)
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Best Afternoon in Ages
After doing the one important task I had to do today, I settled onto my bed, determined to catch up on the accounting I've been ignoring these last two weeks. It would be nice if I could do the work and get started on studying for the final, but this laptop. It's possibly the greatest or worst idea my dad ever had. Everything is far more convenient (sitting at a desk in front of a computer is always so hard. It's lacking a certain horizontal angle that I require from everything I do.) There are also just enough bugs to keep me working at it, trying to fix things.
Speaking of which, anyone know why I wouldn't be able to access certain files on my external hard drive? Maybe it's just a Maxxtor issue that I should have expected when I bought the brand, but I'm hoping it's something I can fix. There are some very important mp3's that I can't put into iTunes or delete and re-download.
Basically, since 5, I've been sitting here playing on the laptop. I downloaded Amar Es Combatir by Maná... Adding spanish alterna-rock to this day just made me even less motivated to put the computer down. Then I found the Timbuk2 website, which I've been meaning to look up ever since I got my bicycle. Oh God. I want this so bad. I was going to use my paycheck to pay off my credit card debt, but I think it can wait. I was going to use the $500 refund to pad up my savings account, but maybe I can use that for the credit card debt instead. I was going to use next quarter's room and board for room and board, but maybe I'll put half in savings and live as a underfed, overworked, sleep-deprived, inattentive college student with a flashy bike, secondhand laptop, and stylish messenger bag.
On that note, next quarter is looking good. I got all the classes I wanted, I might be working some more hours at the pool (January/February's hours were insane, but 10 hours a week leaves me with too much free time), and the bike riding will get kicked up a notch with the warming weather and approaching BRAG. It doesn't look like I'll have much down time, which is actually what I'm aiming for. Too much downtime leads to worrying about boys, and I'd like to take a quarter off from that. Grow up a little, maybe, and learn to relax in my own skin.
Which reminds me of one last thing. Reading the Fountainhead is making me feel guilty about not having a stronger personality. I find myself wondering, what should I be doing that would accurately reflect the kind of one-minded selfishness that Ayn Rand says would save the world? And then I realize that Ayn Rand would be terribly angry with me for trying to do a kind of work that she would be proud of, since the whole point is to NOT work for someone else's approval. And so, I've reached the depth of my being. It appears that the thing I really want to do in life, against everyone else's opinions, is to loaf around, wasting time.
Tomorrow I'm go swimming between classes.
Speaking of which, anyone know why I wouldn't be able to access certain files on my external hard drive? Maybe it's just a Maxxtor issue that I should have expected when I bought the brand, but I'm hoping it's something I can fix. There are some very important mp3's that I can't put into iTunes or delete and re-download.
Basically, since 5, I've been sitting here playing on the laptop. I downloaded Amar Es Combatir by Maná... Adding spanish alterna-rock to this day just made me even less motivated to put the computer down. Then I found the Timbuk2 website, which I've been meaning to look up ever since I got my bicycle. Oh God. I want this so bad. I was going to use my paycheck to pay off my credit card debt, but I think it can wait. I was going to use the $500 refund to pad up my savings account, but maybe I can use that for the credit card debt instead. I was going to use next quarter's room and board for room and board, but maybe I'll put half in savings and live as a underfed, overworked, sleep-deprived, inattentive college student with a flashy bike, secondhand laptop, and stylish messenger bag.
On that note, next quarter is looking good. I got all the classes I wanted, I might be working some more hours at the pool (January/February's hours were insane, but 10 hours a week leaves me with too much free time), and the bike riding will get kicked up a notch with the warming weather and approaching BRAG. It doesn't look like I'll have much down time, which is actually what I'm aiming for. Too much downtime leads to worrying about boys, and I'd like to take a quarter off from that. Grow up a little, maybe, and learn to relax in my own skin.
Which reminds me of one last thing. Reading the Fountainhead is making me feel guilty about not having a stronger personality. I find myself wondering, what should I be doing that would accurately reflect the kind of one-minded selfishness that Ayn Rand says would save the world? And then I realize that Ayn Rand would be terribly angry with me for trying to do a kind of work that she would be proud of, since the whole point is to NOT work for someone else's approval. And so, I've reached the depth of my being. It appears that the thing I really want to do in life, against everyone else's opinions, is to loaf around, wasting time.
Tomorrow I'm go swimming between classes.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Stomach Cramps
There are times when it is extremely necessary to cram into a car and go driving for coffee. These times include, but are not limited to: 1 am procrastination breaks, when an excuse to not return home is needed, Monday afternoons, when it is snowing, before class (some sort of breakfast food is usually included at this time), after class, and any time a location selling coffee is open.
Today's excuses were: Monday afternoon, unvisited coffee shop, and a desire to play catch-up with friends.
Also, my stomach is all cramped up because I made nachos for lunch. These nachos included white rice (which I started cooking before deciding to go with nachos instead) and 4 month old salsa. Not the best meal ever.
7:00 Update
Happiness is driving your roommate's truck to Fred Meyer for eclaires, but instead seeing the most beautiful Bellingham sunset ever. It's laying on your stomach, listening to The Velvet Underground CD your brother bought for you when you were seventeen, smelling the spicy jumbalaya feast being cooked downstairs.
11:00 Update
It's also being stuffed full of jumbalaya and Fat Tire, recovering from a three hour attempt to make Irene look good in front of the boy she invited.
Today's excuses were: Monday afternoon, unvisited coffee shop, and a desire to play catch-up with friends.
Also, my stomach is all cramped up because I made nachos for lunch. These nachos included white rice (which I started cooking before deciding to go with nachos instead) and 4 month old salsa. Not the best meal ever.
7:00 Update
Happiness is driving your roommate's truck to Fred Meyer for eclaires, but instead seeing the most beautiful Bellingham sunset ever. It's laying on your stomach, listening to The Velvet Underground CD your brother bought for you when you were seventeen, smelling the spicy jumbalaya feast being cooked downstairs.
11:00 Update
It's also being stuffed full of jumbalaya and Fat Tire, recovering from a three hour attempt to make Irene look good in front of the boy she invited.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Happy Birthday!
To Gabriel Garcia Marquez. 100 Years of Solitude is still the most beautiful book ever written. I'd read it again in honor of his birthday, except Tobias still hasn't given it back. I probably won't see it again until summer, if at all. Anyway, I have a sparked interest in Chronicles of a Death Foretold, but if I can't finish The General in his Labyrinth, I really shouldn't start a second Marquez book.
Plans for Georgia are complete. Irene's dad has an excellent sense of humor that comes through even in his emailed itinerary lists. I forwarded the email to my mom so she'd know what we'd be up to down south, and she called me up laughing on the phone shortly after. My mother is a very serious woman. She doesn't make phone calls to laugh about something. Congrats, Mr. Willis. This is looking to be an excellent summer.
Umm, my professor is being oddly amusing today. Usually he drives me to such great lengths of boredom that I read straight through the lecture, beginning to end. Today I borrowed a laptop to keep me amused, but he's doing a well enough job himself. He had a huge spreadsheet with the very last example being at $0.02. "Why did I have to go all the way to the thirtieth person? Well, I figured I let him throw in his two cents' worth." Pause. Stunned silence from the class. Later, "Now you see why Math 102 or whatever was a prerequisite for this class. You all know about slopes or else you wouldn't even be here." In a lower tone of voice, mostly talking to himself. "If I had my way you wouldn't even be at Western." ....Okay, I guess that second example wasn't that funny. But coming from this guy? It's pure comic genius compared to his usual lecture style.
Now he made a "the buck stops here" joke. About money. Arrrgh.
Plans for Georgia are complete. Irene's dad has an excellent sense of humor that comes through even in his emailed itinerary lists. I forwarded the email to my mom so she'd know what we'd be up to down south, and she called me up laughing on the phone shortly after. My mother is a very serious woman. She doesn't make phone calls to laugh about something. Congrats, Mr. Willis. This is looking to be an excellent summer.
Umm, my professor is being oddly amusing today. Usually he drives me to such great lengths of boredom that I read straight through the lecture, beginning to end. Today I borrowed a laptop to keep me amused, but he's doing a well enough job himself. He had a huge spreadsheet with the very last example being at $0.02. "Why did I have to go all the way to the thirtieth person? Well, I figured I let him throw in his two cents' worth." Pause. Stunned silence from the class. Later, "Now you see why Math 102 or whatever was a prerequisite for this class. You all know about slopes or else you wouldn't even be here." In a lower tone of voice, mostly talking to himself. "If I had my way you wouldn't even be at Western." ....Okay, I guess that second example wasn't that funny. But coming from this guy? It's pure comic genius compared to his usual lecture style.
Now he made a "the buck stops here" joke. About money. Arrrgh.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Wanted: Gamecube and Twilight Princess
Tuey came over tonight and I made her dinner. We sat on my grimy couches and caught up on the last two years in four hours. I love that girl. I'm going to make her be my best friend again.
Also, completed the Writing Skills Assessment portion of the UW Business Application. I'm two personal statements away from having all my shit together and done.
Well, at least as far as UW goes. Then there's still the BRAG registration form to mail and the Social Well Being application.
Also, completed the Writing Skills Assessment portion of the UW Business Application. I'm two personal statements away from having all my shit together and done.
Well, at least as far as UW goes. Then there's still the BRAG registration form to mail and the Social Well Being application.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Don't Stop Y'all
So today I had a Spanish test that I wasn't prepared for, followed shortly by an economics test that I wasn't prepared for. But I think I aced them both, so no worries. I celebrated my genius by going on a nice, crazy long bike ride out to the mall. Murder by automatic vehicle was the goal, but I came out with a nice jacket for next weekend's wedding, too. The ride home was death-defying. Stinging sideways hail that got right into my eyes when I needed to see cars the most, out on Meridian. The ride was simply exhilarating, mostly because I was a quivering mass of jell-o moving super-fast on an aluminum frame not 2 feet away from big hulking masses of metal (that moved faster than me.) Oh, then there was the bright idea to go outside in the same outfit I wore in the morning. Here's a tip for next time you're in my situation: overcast weather clothes do not suffice in the face of snow! So the walks to and from campus were miserable, but I made it through. I had music.
And after all of this, I come home to the smell of fresh-baked cupcakes. My roommate is awesome. Baking skills are now a requirement for all future roommates.
And after all of this, I come home to the smell of fresh-baked cupcakes. My roommate is awesome. Baking skills are now a requirement for all future roommates.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Sleep Tight, Dream Right
Anyone who listens to me long enough eventually hears about my obsession with the Underground Coffeehouse. I just want to lay out all the facts for everyone, here and now. The Underground Coffeehouse is the nearest to Heaven I have ever been. Couches, left and right, bundled in groups or off to the side. Overstuffed recliners, old and battered coffee tables, broken lamps, and more couches. In some places you've either got to weigh 110 lbs or be able to bend all sorts of crazy ways to get through a couch crowd. Generally, the play good music, although at times it does get a little loud if you're looking for a decent nap.
Think of Interpol. PDA: "We have two hundred couches where you can sleep tonight." Literally, every time I start feeling sleepy and drowsy, I think of that song and imagine, just exactly what would two hundred sleeping couches look like? And I see the Underground Coffeehouse. I see home. It's where I go to study, it's where I go to read a book, it's where I go if I'm trying to avoid going back to la casa verde. It's not, however, where I go for coffee. The Underground does not do good coffee. The Starbucks upstairs does better coffee, obviously those numerous places downtown do coffee better. But that's not what makes the Underground special.
It's all about the couches.
Think of Interpol. PDA: "We have two hundred couches where you can sleep tonight." Literally, every time I start feeling sleepy and drowsy, I think of that song and imagine, just exactly what would two hundred sleeping couches look like? And I see the Underground Coffeehouse. I see home. It's where I go to study, it's where I go to read a book, it's where I go if I'm trying to avoid going back to la casa verde. It's not, however, where I go for coffee. The Underground does not do good coffee. The Starbucks upstairs does better coffee, obviously those numerous places downtown do coffee better. But that's not what makes the Underground special.
It's all about the couches.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Frou Frou
Work work work, all day... Coworker was coming in to pick up her boyfriend at the end of his shift, ended up getting a bloody nose instead. She was in the office for about 20 minutes without it stopping, so we called an ambulance and they took care of her. Eventually she went home, but man, you should've seen the staff bathroom before it got cleaned out. Blood EVERYWHERE. Something like a scene from a horror film.
Also finally reading the Fountainhead, which was probably a bad idea to start it because it's a fatty book and I don't really have the time to get lost in Ayn Rand. But it's fantastic.
Amigos, please. Calling me about strange signs at Chevron? Not kosher. At least have the decency to tell me you stole it. It's just common decency.
Pretty pictures from Friday afternoon at Larrabee. My picture-taker took a swim in the ocean and I find out if it'll be okay later this week.
Also finally reading the Fountainhead, which was probably a bad idea to start it because it's a fatty book and I don't really have the time to get lost in Ayn Rand. But it's fantastic.
Amigos, please. Calling me about strange signs at Chevron? Not kosher. At least have the decency to tell me you stole it. It's just common decency.
Pretty pictures from Friday afternoon at Larrabee. My picture-taker took a swim in the ocean and I find out if it'll be okay later this week.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Gross, Chelsea
There's no way I can go to the UW next year. First, they couldn't possibly consider accepting me. Second, if they did, I couldn't go because I'd know the entire institution is corrupt for accepting a person like me.
I am officially the stupidest person alive. Not only did I manage to drop my brand new camera in the ocean yesterday, but just now, I found my mp3 player. You know, the one that was stolen back in January? Guess what. It wasn't stolen.
It was lost in all those blankets on my bed.
I was putting the shelves at the base of my bed back into position since these last few days have been rough on my bedding arrangement. When you sleep 10+ hours a day, your bed gets thrashed. All 8+ blankets are piled in the corner near the wall, while the mattress itself has moved about 5 inches from said wall. And amidst all of this destruction, I found my mp3 player nestled calmly under my Target blanket at the end of the mattress.
So today, I'm going to clean my room.
I am officially the stupidest person alive. Not only did I manage to drop my brand new camera in the ocean yesterday, but just now, I found my mp3 player. You know, the one that was stolen back in January? Guess what. It wasn't stolen.
It was lost in all those blankets on my bed.
I was putting the shelves at the base of my bed back into position since these last few days have been rough on my bedding arrangement. When you sleep 10+ hours a day, your bed gets thrashed. All 8+ blankets are piled in the corner near the wall, while the mattress itself has moved about 5 inches from said wall. And amidst all of this destruction, I found my mp3 player nestled calmly under my Target blanket at the end of the mattress.
So today, I'm going to clean my room.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
I see spiders when I close my eyes
Half an hour until new episode of The Office. Suh-weeeet.
Tomorrow is going to be a Very Long Day. I haven't had one of those in a while, I've been trying to avoid them completely while I battle a two week long so far cold.
Today I did all sorts of neat things. Kicked complete ass on my accounting test, rocked on guitar hero (first time ever, but they didn't believe me. I am such a bad ass.), and watched a pack of about 15 dogs rollicking in and around Lake Whatcom. I am this close to giving the middle finger to responsibility and checking out the Humane Society for a puppy (or two.)
Brent gave me directions to the mud flats for the next sunny day. Personal note, though: wear a windbreaker and tie back that hair. Boots would be good, too. The wind howls out there. Last time I went was in May, the sun was shining fiercely, and I was wishing for a sweatshirt.
Also, figured out my schedule for next quarter. No classes until noon on Tuesdays and Fridays! This of course means that I will do nothing exciting Monday and Thursday nights, unless sitting up playing video games or listening to music while Stumbling the internet counts.
Speaking of Stumble, I showed it to Zoey today. She was incredibly excited. She sat at my computer going "Stumble!... Stumble!" until Firefox froze, as it usually does, and she got impatient and walked away. This all took less than 5 minutes.
Tomorrow is going to be a Very Long Day. I haven't had one of those in a while, I've been trying to avoid them completely while I battle a two week long so far cold.
Today I did all sorts of neat things. Kicked complete ass on my accounting test, rocked on guitar hero (first time ever, but they didn't believe me. I am such a bad ass.), and watched a pack of about 15 dogs rollicking in and around Lake Whatcom. I am this close to giving the middle finger to responsibility and checking out the Humane Society for a puppy (or two.)
Brent gave me directions to the mud flats for the next sunny day. Personal note, though: wear a windbreaker and tie back that hair. Boots would be good, too. The wind howls out there. Last time I went was in May, the sun was shining fiercely, and I was wishing for a sweatshirt.
Also, figured out my schedule for next quarter. No classes until noon on Tuesdays and Fridays! This of course means that I will do nothing exciting Monday and Thursday nights, unless sitting up playing video games or listening to music while Stumbling the internet counts.
Speaking of Stumble, I showed it to Zoey today. She was incredibly excited. She sat at my computer going "Stumble!... Stumble!" until Firefox froze, as it usually does, and she got impatient and walked away. This all took less than 5 minutes.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Turn Around, Bright Eyes
Made two dates with two Tom's today. Tom Payne, my dear dear senior friend, is coming up from Fedtown on Friday to see the Thermals and hang out. If his poor broke high school ass can find the gas money. Thomasaur the Third will be visiting a bit later, the weekend before Finals Week, but he'll have a car with lots of gas and we'll do all sorts of crazy things. Things like driving and making each other listen to our music, just like we did in high school. Maybe we'll go for a hike, he'll probably talk endlessly about his girlfriend, and we'll probably gossip about old high school kids. So now, I have weekends to look forward to again.
Once upon I was falling in love, now I'm only falling apart. Nothing I can say, a total eclipse of the heart...
Three weeks and no scalloped potatoes later, the lost and found on campus finally found my bike light. After I gave up and went and bought the same expensive version. Fortunately, REI takes returns for all reasons.
Once upon I was falling in love, now I'm only falling apart. Nothing I can say, a total eclipse of the heart...
Three weeks and no scalloped potatoes later, the lost and found on campus finally found my bike light. After I gave up and went and bought the same expensive version. Fortunately, REI takes returns for all reasons.
Monday, February 19, 2007
I Love Love
Anyway, new plan for tomorrow. .... Goddamn, just as I started filling in all the mental gaps in my plan, I came across one irritating obstacle. Geology Lab. Arrgh, I hate being on campus until 4. So now I guess the plan is to sleep in and go to the gym at 4, and maybe beat back this funk that's settling in with a good long sweaty workout. And this music mix I've made for myself over the course of the last 5 days? I will never turn it off.
Read that wonderful kid's book, Holes, today. Luh-luh-loved it. Be careful, Chelsea, it was only a month ago you abandoned your studies to take on His Dark Materials and Howl's Moving Castle. Well written children's books = love. Meh, actually, I think I'll just take my copy of Catch-22 out of Irene's room and start that again.
Here's a list of all the books strewn about my floor that I refuse to put away because I actually think I'm going to pick each one up and finish/read it front-to-back in the next few days:
Accidental Empires - Robert X. Cringley
Confessions of an Economic Hit Man - John Perkins
Naked Economics - Charles Wheelan
Running with Scissors - Augusten Burroughs
How Soccer Explains the World - Franklin Foer
Eva Luna - Isabel Allende (the spanish text)
The Impossible Will Take a Little While - Paul Rogat Loeb (and contributing authors)
The General in His Labyrinth - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
So actually my life is not revolving around books these days, or bollywood movies, or any of those things that I like to obsess about fervently in this little patch of cyberspace. It's because I don't have the time for them that I just love to write, write, write about the silly little lists I'm forming. I'm more preoccupied with my Ikea plant, which has grown too tall for this lack of sun and is now too weak to hold itself up. It's got bright purple flowers and pink spots on the leaves, just like in its days of prime during the summer, only the stalks are too thin and spend their time draped across my desk. Hey, sun! Come back out! My Ikea buddy here needs some nutrients, and I'm dying for a nice long bike ride that won't leave me with a hacking chest cough after.
Last night, fed up with baking and being sick, I hung out with the old Green House Group. We watched this awfully fantastic movie called Ravenous. Watch it. The soundtrack and the ending fight scenes are literally the best I have ever seen a movie come up with. Also, every time I feel like creeping someone out, I'm going to start wiggling my fingers around and making drum beat sounds.
Please don't ask me how studying went today. I just really don't want to talk about it.
Read that wonderful kid's book, Holes, today. Luh-luh-loved it. Be careful, Chelsea, it was only a month ago you abandoned your studies to take on His Dark Materials and Howl's Moving Castle. Well written children's books = love. Meh, actually, I think I'll just take my copy of Catch-22 out of Irene's room and start that again.
Here's a list of all the books strewn about my floor that I refuse to put away because I actually think I'm going to pick each one up and finish/read it front-to-back in the next few days:
Accidental Empires - Robert X. Cringley
Confessions of an Economic Hit Man - John Perkins
Naked Economics - Charles Wheelan
Running with Scissors - Augusten Burroughs
How Soccer Explains the World - Franklin Foer
Eva Luna - Isabel Allende (the spanish text)
The Impossible Will Take a Little While - Paul Rogat Loeb (and contributing authors)
The General in His Labyrinth - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
So actually my life is not revolving around books these days, or bollywood movies, or any of those things that I like to obsess about fervently in this little patch of cyberspace. It's because I don't have the time for them that I just love to write, write, write about the silly little lists I'm forming. I'm more preoccupied with my Ikea plant, which has grown too tall for this lack of sun and is now too weak to hold itself up. It's got bright purple flowers and pink spots on the leaves, just like in its days of prime during the summer, only the stalks are too thin and spend their time draped across my desk. Hey, sun! Come back out! My Ikea buddy here needs some nutrients, and I'm dying for a nice long bike ride that won't leave me with a hacking chest cough after.
Last night, fed up with baking and being sick, I hung out with the old Green House Group. We watched this awfully fantastic movie called Ravenous. Watch it. The soundtrack and the ending fight scenes are literally the best I have ever seen a movie come up with. Also, every time I feel like creeping someone out, I'm going to start wiggling my fingers around and making drum beat sounds.
Please don't ask me how studying went today. I just really don't want to talk about it.
Think about some direction
Damn damn damn. Irene beat me to the idea of crashing on Seth and Tiana's couch and playing Zelda for hours and hours on end. Looks like I'll be heading to campus to do homework instead. I hate studying. I read a book and baked brownies and an oreo cream pie and, of course, played Zelda for a few hours yesterday, all between the hours of 6pm and 4am, just so I could not study and maybe sleep all through Monday, thus avoiding studying all of today, too.
Listening to the Brunettes has given me a hopeful outlook on life, though. "Maybe someday soon we could spend the afternoon together. We could go to put-put - my favorite game."
Listening to the Brunettes has given me a hopeful outlook on life, though. "Maybe someday soon we could spend the afternoon together. We could go to put-put - my favorite game."
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Woozy
I really want to say last Saturday was terrible because I was woken up early and only got 4 hours of sleep. I really want to say that I resent that person who woke me up and that it was a one-time thing that I refuse to ever let happen again.
I really want to say it, and mean it.
Except here it is, the very next Saturday, and once again I was up until 6 am, once again I woke up four hours later and couldn't go back to sleep.
I'm going to have to figure a way to rig up curtains that block the early morning sun, so maybe I can sleep off the hangover in peace next time.
But okay, so here's what happened. In hopes of getting shitty drunk last night, I left Brent's friendly chill party to find a raging kegger on Franklin. It was awful, so we picked up some boys, bought a flat of Pabst, and proceeded to drink ourselves silly in the middle of the living room floor.
Here's a question: Why don't I ever sit on the roof? It's prime chill spot. Actually, the answer's simple. Weather's shitty. As soon as it's warm again...
Yesterday I ate decadent chocolate cake at the Colophon Cafe with Allison. We talked about boys, and travel, and spanish, and boys. And we devoured that piece of cake. It stood no chance in the face of our post-economics chocolate craving.
I really want to say it, and mean it.
Except here it is, the very next Saturday, and once again I was up until 6 am, once again I woke up four hours later and couldn't go back to sleep.
I'm going to have to figure a way to rig up curtains that block the early morning sun, so maybe I can sleep off the hangover in peace next time.
But okay, so here's what happened. In hopes of getting shitty drunk last night, I left Brent's friendly chill party to find a raging kegger on Franklin. It was awful, so we picked up some boys, bought a flat of Pabst, and proceeded to drink ourselves silly in the middle of the living room floor.
Here's a question: Why don't I ever sit on the roof? It's prime chill spot. Actually, the answer's simple. Weather's shitty. As soon as it's warm again...
Yesterday I ate decadent chocolate cake at the Colophon Cafe with Allison. We talked about boys, and travel, and spanish, and boys. And we devoured that piece of cake. It stood no chance in the face of our post-economics chocolate craving.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
At Brent's
Vince's girlfriend made chocolate pie. Four people discovered it. Every single one went "Chocolate pie!!!"
Bike Bike Bike. That's all I think about all day long. When can I go on a bike ride? Started to watch The Constant Gardener last night while riding the trainer, lasted about half an hour before the whole stationary-bike thing started to bother me. But get this: Kimchi ran on his wheel while I rode the bike, and he'd stop and look around whenever I stopped.
So here's an exciting little story. I'm sitting in accounting when I get a text message from a number I've never seen before, from an area code I've never heard of. All it says is: Chelsea. Hmm, I wonder to myself. Who could this be? "This is Frans if you remember me." So I start hyperventilating a little bit. Frans Jensen, that boy from fall quarter freshman year whose room I used to live in, whose Lion King video game I used to play constantly, who used to take Jaeger shots and drink Red Bull with me almost every night, who played the fiddle and I was basically an idiot for not being in love with. After he disappeared mid-winter quarter, I never knew what happened to him again. He was a bit like John Books (who actually showed up at the Red House party on Friday. The mystery of John has been solved.) only I was more anxious about him, because news was literally silent.
Anyway, I was talking to a friend from accounting, and didn't really feel like freaking out in front of her. So I waited until our conversation would be done and I could call Frans with all the proper excitement he deserves. Then I got this message: "I went to school with you last year, was roommates with mar in buchanan towers." Oh, it was adorable. I turned to Christine, said an immediate Adios, and called the silly fucker to tell him how much I adore him.
The story goes he went back to Minnesota, got back together with his old girlfriend, moved to Montana to be a cook at a ski resort, broke up with the old girlfriend, and is thinking about moving back to Washington. I invited him to move in with me. It was a short conversation, I had to move on to my next class, but I'm going to call him again soon and gush and gossip and basically just take in every bit of Frans that I've been wishing to experience for the last year.
Bike Bike Bike. That's all I think about all day long. When can I go on a bike ride? Started to watch The Constant Gardener last night while riding the trainer, lasted about half an hour before the whole stationary-bike thing started to bother me. But get this: Kimchi ran on his wheel while I rode the bike, and he'd stop and look around whenever I stopped.
So here's an exciting little story. I'm sitting in accounting when I get a text message from a number I've never seen before, from an area code I've never heard of. All it says is: Chelsea. Hmm, I wonder to myself. Who could this be? "This is Frans if you remember me." So I start hyperventilating a little bit. Frans Jensen, that boy from fall quarter freshman year whose room I used to live in, whose Lion King video game I used to play constantly, who used to take Jaeger shots and drink Red Bull with me almost every night, who played the fiddle and I was basically an idiot for not being in love with. After he disappeared mid-winter quarter, I never knew what happened to him again. He was a bit like John Books (who actually showed up at the Red House party on Friday. The mystery of John has been solved.) only I was more anxious about him, because news was literally silent.
Anyway, I was talking to a friend from accounting, and didn't really feel like freaking out in front of her. So I waited until our conversation would be done and I could call Frans with all the proper excitement he deserves. Then I got this message: "I went to school with you last year, was roommates with mar in buchanan towers." Oh, it was adorable. I turned to Christine, said an immediate Adios, and called the silly fucker to tell him how much I adore him.
The story goes he went back to Minnesota, got back together with his old girlfriend, moved to Montana to be a cook at a ski resort, broke up with the old girlfriend, and is thinking about moving back to Washington. I invited him to move in with me. It was a short conversation, I had to move on to my next class, but I'm going to call him again soon and gush and gossip and basically just take in every bit of Frans that I've been wishing to experience for the last year.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Today
Failed to wake up at a decent hour. So much for an invigorating morning run.
Classes - meeeeh. Not terrible. Not great. Accounting has never been so boring. Thursday is the official halfway point for the quarter, though. That's exciting?
Walked home and it rained.
Met Morgan downtown for coffee and we gossiped. Ohhh, girl gossip. It can't be matched.
Walked home and it rained.
Soon I'll be driving Irene out to some unknown destination, where we'll drink gin and ginger ale and hopefully make it home okay.
Tomorrow? I'm going to fix my bike! I hope I hope I hope.
Classes - meeeeh. Not terrible. Not great. Accounting has never been so boring. Thursday is the official halfway point for the quarter, though. That's exciting?
Walked home and it rained.
Met Morgan downtown for coffee and we gossiped. Ohhh, girl gossip. It can't be matched.
Walked home and it rained.
Soon I'll be driving Irene out to some unknown destination, where we'll drink gin and ginger ale and hopefully make it home okay.
Tomorrow? I'm going to fix my bike! I hope I hope I hope.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
I am so unlucky
I'm very angry with my bike right now.
The back tire went flat last night at 2 am while I was about a mile away from my house. This was infuriating and humiliating and something I could barely forgive. Fortunately for the bike, a very cute boy walked me home and I found I couldn't stay mad for long.
So today Irene towed the bike in the back of her truck out to Fairhaven, where I got the tire fixed. Since bikers in general are smart and generous people, they suggested a few things I should keep on hand in case it happens again. I took their advice, picked up some supplies and went home with excitement in my heart, ready to take on the town as usual.
Right as I passed the WECU building on Holly, the front tire died.
I walked that bitch back home and spent an hour trying to fix it. Maybe my arms aren't strong enough to use an air pump, maybe I didn't even put the new tube back on correctly, but mostly I think that every part of that red monster despises me and decided to just spit back out every bit of air I put into it.
So I left the tire in the kitchen and stuck it out on the back porch to think things over. And maybe I'll call one of the bike gang founders tomorrow to see if they can fix it.
The back tire went flat last night at 2 am while I was about a mile away from my house. This was infuriating and humiliating and something I could barely forgive. Fortunately for the bike, a very cute boy walked me home and I found I couldn't stay mad for long.
So today Irene towed the bike in the back of her truck out to Fairhaven, where I got the tire fixed. Since bikers in general are smart and generous people, they suggested a few things I should keep on hand in case it happens again. I took their advice, picked up some supplies and went home with excitement in my heart, ready to take on the town as usual.
Right as I passed the WECU building on Holly, the front tire died.
I walked that bitch back home and spent an hour trying to fix it. Maybe my arms aren't strong enough to use an air pump, maybe I didn't even put the new tube back on correctly, but mostly I think that every part of that red monster despises me and decided to just spit back out every bit of air I put into it.
So I left the tire in the kitchen and stuck it out on the back porch to think things over. And maybe I'll call one of the bike gang founders tomorrow to see if they can fix it.
Samson
Flipping channels, I got this sentence out of the TV: "God says that women are beneath us."
That was 10 minutes ago. I'm still amused.
That was 10 minutes ago. I'm still amused.
Friday, February 02, 2007
Shiiit how do I calculate CPI inflation rate?
First I thought I was nervous because of the boy I wanted to talk to. Then I thought I was freaking out about my upcoming Econ test. Finally, I realized it was just the caffeine from that doubleshot americano kicking in. It's been so long since I've had coffee of any kind that I'd actually forgotten what a caffeine high feels like.
And on a side note, I now have two hand-drawn walrus pictures from two seperate boys named Nick. Maybe I'll start a collection of walrus pictures. Except if I go with the Nick theme, I only have one more before I'm out of Nick-friends.
And on a side note, I now have two hand-drawn walrus pictures from two seperate boys named Nick. Maybe I'll start a collection of walrus pictures. Except if I go with the Nick theme, I only have one more before I'm out of Nick-friends.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Stalling....
Last night in my Preschool swim lessons, only two of the boys showed up. Colm, my favorite, was having a great night. Doing back floats by himself, holding his breath underwater for 9 seconds (!!) and just in this cute adorable mood, telling me things like how he can recognize me even when I change my swimsuit (but not if I'm wearing normal clothes.) Then while Isaac and I were taking a spin around the pool, Colm fell (not sure how exactly, I wasn't watching. Bad teacher.) He hit his ear right on the edge of the pool. I could see the bruise forming already. Poor kid, hitting your ear hurts so much. He was crying and I let him go sit with his dad, where he sat in his towel and bawled while holding his head.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
I forgot which way is down
My grumpy supervisor at work called me a privileged suburban white girl at work this morning. Alright, so I'm not training for a triathlon and arranging competitions and raising 4 kids by myself, but I'm still pretty stressed out. So I stopped bitching to people and decided to hold it in until now.
I AM SO BUSY!! I've broken out and I'm constantly hungry and if I could just find a quiet corner with a couch I'd be out. But there's no time for things like showers after (or before) work or cooking or those 9 hours of sleep that I love so much. Here's why: Three exams this week (one down, another tomorrow, another Friday.) These next two are going to kill me, though, since Thor loves to make his tests impossible and I really despise Macroeconomics. I've been working about 20 hours each week (5-9pm Mon/Wed/Fri, 5-9:30am Tues/Thurs, 1-8:30 Sun). I'm leaving in about 15 minutes for an on-campus movie required for Spanish, then meeting a coworker to study for Geology. I had the last hour and a half all to myself (first chunk of unfettered time today!), so I celebrated by finishing a movie I've been working on piece by piece for the last 4 days.
And I don't feel much like expanding on this anymore. Seeing my "reasons why the world should give me a break" just makes me all grossed with myself. Kiss the love gun, I'm going back to campus now (and I'm going to bundle up, it'll be cold when I head home and buses don't run past 10 pm).
I AM SO BUSY!! I've broken out and I'm constantly hungry and if I could just find a quiet corner with a couch I'd be out. But there's no time for things like showers after (or before) work or cooking or those 9 hours of sleep that I love so much. Here's why: Three exams this week (one down, another tomorrow, another Friday.) These next two are going to kill me, though, since Thor loves to make his tests impossible and I really despise Macroeconomics. I've been working about 20 hours each week (5-9pm Mon/Wed/Fri, 5-9:30am Tues/Thurs, 1-8:30 Sun). I'm leaving in about 15 minutes for an on-campus movie required for Spanish, then meeting a coworker to study for Geology. I had the last hour and a half all to myself (first chunk of unfettered time today!), so I celebrated by finishing a movie I've been working on piece by piece for the last 4 days.
And I don't feel much like expanding on this anymore. Seeing my "reasons why the world should give me a break" just makes me all grossed with myself. Kiss the love gun, I'm going back to campus now (and I'm going to bundle up, it'll be cold when I head home and buses don't run past 10 pm).
Sunday, January 28, 2007
feeling like playing Scrabble
Earlier this morning I discovered some sort of movie-sharing software called Jaman. It's in the beta form right now, so renting (see: downloading) the movies is still free. And they carry Bollywood. Actually, from what I can tell, the entire software is dedicated to sharing foreign films. It's my new favorite toy. I also like the name. Jaman. I like to say it with a jamaican accent and pretend the creators of the software are just a bunch of movie pirates. Arr!
Our house meeting this morning went something along these lines: We've gotten really messy. Wash your dishes. Wipe down the counters. And someone please figure out how to get the bathroom sink to start draining again.
We celebrated the successful meeting by going out to some cafe whose name I can't remember but it starts with an A. It was very crowded on this sunny Sunday morning, mostly with other people I recognized from campus/used to have a class with. It was slightly creepy, but I was distracted from watching once my hugely disgusting biscuits and gravy arrived.
Friday in the coffeehouse, AJ made me stop conversation to listen to the Regina Spektor song playing. And now I realize why I've been hearing her name tossed about in the wind lately. This russian girl? She sings excellently. I've been listening to one song, Musicbox, repeatedly. The lyrics are about making an armada of bottle caps in her sink, then using her hands to capsize them in giant waves.
Someday, I hope to grow a giant bougainvillea bush. I'd probably need a yard, regular sun, and lots of fertilizer. But it'd be worth it to look out my window and imagine being in the tropics.
Our house meeting this morning went something along these lines: We've gotten really messy. Wash your dishes. Wipe down the counters. And someone please figure out how to get the bathroom sink to start draining again.
We celebrated the successful meeting by going out to some cafe whose name I can't remember but it starts with an A. It was very crowded on this sunny Sunday morning, mostly with other people I recognized from campus/used to have a class with. It was slightly creepy, but I was distracted from watching once my hugely disgusting biscuits and gravy arrived.
Friday in the coffeehouse, AJ made me stop conversation to listen to the Regina Spektor song playing. And now I realize why I've been hearing her name tossed about in the wind lately. This russian girl? She sings excellently. I've been listening to one song, Musicbox, repeatedly. The lyrics are about making an armada of bottle caps in her sink, then using her hands to capsize them in giant waves.
Someday, I hope to grow a giant bougainvillea bush. I'd probably need a yard, regular sun, and lots of fertilizer. But it'd be worth it to look out my window and imagine being in the tropics.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
I Try
Another 25th of the month, another paycheck. It's almost nine and I really want to go to bed, but I'm going to stay up so I can read a book. There are three of them stacked on top of each other on my desk, staring me down, daring me to neglect something that should be more important.
If only I knew how to save my Ikea plant. It looks so sad and droopy, but no matter how much I water it (or don't), it keeps on drooping. The purple flower days are over.
If only I knew how to save my Ikea plant. It looks so sad and droopy, but no matter how much I water it (or don't), it keeps on drooping. The purple flower days are over.
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