Aaaaaaauuuuugggghhhhh!

Can I take a moment to tell the entire world how mad I am at my sister right now? Yeah? Ok. Here it goes.

I am so mad at my sister right now! She's made my life pretty miserable the past couple of days by keeping me up far later than I should be up last night and again tonight, during a time at work when I really should be getting a lot of sleep, and not only that, but now my little heart is broken, and it's all because of her! She must've known all along that if she introduced me to Wonderfalls I would become addicted and obsess about the characters and be forced to watch episode after episode until I'd gone through everything on youtube (when I SHOULD have been sleeping), and THEN I would find out that not only will it not work out between Jaye and Eric, but that there won't even be a chance for it NOT to work out, because the freaking show only had one season! How can I live knowing all of that? It's almost too much to bear.

I could kill her. If I fall asleep at work tomorrow and get fired, I hope she knows it's all her fault. I feel like I am maybe in emotional distress right now.

Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket

Please tell me it's ok to go to a party, spend three minutes inside the house saying hi to the hosts, and then going out to the front yard to watch a meteor shower alone in the dark, ok?

If it helps, I saw thirty-five shooting stars in the space of an hour and a half, just staring at one section of sky. Can I just say I had a lot of important wishes to make? Because man, that house had way too many people in it.

Maybe the stars were defective, though, because my very first wish, while I was on my way there, was that I would have a good time at the party. Except, maybe, my wish actually came true.

Lunch break of awkwardness

So I've already eaten around the outside of my not-cooked-too-well tamale, and decided to brave the outside world to pick up a manual that I should have picked up days ago, and I'm wearing my ill-fitting university t-shirt because it's casual friday, so of course who should I meet but my friend whom I haven't seen in months, who's been out living it up in Sweden and being a fancy PhD student in speech and hearing sciences. So of course he waves me over to say hi and as I'm maneuvering around chairs outside the student union I put my hand down onto the back of a chair, except it wasn't so much putting it down on the back of a chair as it was putting it down into a fresh glob of bird friendliness, and right as it starts to ooze between my fingers he outstreches his arms for a hug. Not to make things more awkward, I pause, wipe my fingers off as best I can onto a different chair, then turn back to him for the hug, being sure I don't actually touch him with that hand. I'm not sure if he realized what was going on, or if he just thought I was insane and maybe a little OCD.

Of course, the awkwardness went both ways, because he had something stuck between his teeth that he was trying to get out throughout the entire conversation that ensued. Aren't we classy.

Perhaps we shouldn't look too close at my unconcious self

Two bits of information that were very important that I spread to the world when I woke up from a dream of watching the turbulent ocean at dusk just now:

1. The correct spelling of the word churl and its near cousin, cheauxrl.

2. Although this has no bearing on the righteousness or evilness of hairy people, naturally hairless people will all end up in heaven because hairlessness is an indication of innate perfection. The destination of the hirsute is up in the air.

What's my name again?

Do you think it's possible that something that's an inherent part of my personality could lead me to do some action on a daily basis that could be the reason why I have a terrible short term memory? No, I'm not doing drugs or spending my afternoons hitting myself in the head with a mallet. At least, not that I remember.

I only ask because during the past year (almost!) of working at my current job, I've noticed that my short term memory isn't up to snuff. I'll be standing in my boss's office, and he'll tell me something I need to do in the next hour, I'll say ok, and go off to my office to do that thing. But somewhere in the six feet between his office and mine, I forget what I'm doing and then I'll remember two weeks later (sometimes earlier, like when my boss asks me why didn't I do that thing).

So I was thinking about this tonight, while I was sitting on the ground listening to the same song over and over, wondering why I have a bad memory. Then I thought, maybe it's because I've trained myself only to remember stuff when it's repeated six or seven times in a row! Maybe my compulsive/addictive personality is to blame for my woes at work! Of course, I'm not a scientist, and have not thoroughly thought through this idea of mine. Perhaps a controlled experiment with mice and a cardboard maze is in order?

Maybe I should remove my blue shower gel from the bathroom, while I'm thinking about it

My roommate has this big bottle of "Frozen Daiquiri Shower Gel" that's been sitting in the shower for a long time, maybe even as long as my neverending bottle of shampoo.

I have problems with this!

Where do these things come from, anyway? No one would go to the store and buy "shower gel" for themselves. They would buy soap. This stuff is masquerading as liquid soap, when it's just some pink viscous material. It must have been given as a gift, but again, WHY? Why would you give someone you love a bottle of fake soap?

Frozen Daiquiri? If I "washed" myself with a daquiri, I'm pretty sure I'd come out of the experience sticky and smelling like oversweetened syrup, like my apartment after my roommates' famous margarita parties. Gross.

FROZEN Daiquiri? Aren't those types of drinks, by definition, frozen? Unnecessary adjectives! (see also: flame-broiled Whopper, sinful chocolate cake, and young children).

I'm pretty sure that technically, the flavor of a daiquiri can best be described as "pink." Can't we just call it Pink Shower Gel and get it over with?

Why is it in the shower still? This type of product is best dealt with in one of three ways: immediate disposal (either by garbage can or by re-gifting), storage under the bathroom sink to assuage guilt until spring cleaning, when it can be thrown out, or usage for one week or one application (whichever comes first) followed by disposal or storage under the sink. There is no need for this bottle to be sitting in the shower for more than a few days, really.

I Blogged Every Day in November and All I Got was My Roommate Winning Some Scented Oil

I think I just found the perfect Christmas gift for someone to get me. For someone that loves me exactly $17 + shipping, and not a penny more.

In other news, holy cow tonight we did something fun! Ok, it was pretty dorky and cliche, but we did a photo scavenger hunt, and we ran around the university, sneaking pictures of dudes playing DDR (man, they were good. They must have no lives), and walking up to older couples to ask if we could take a picture of them hugging (they were suspicious of our intentions: "so, where exactly are these pictures going to end up?" They hugged in the end, and it was way cute. Go old people!)

The most awesome part? Our group won! We got pictures of everything except the bursar's office (because it was so far away) and... a class schedule? I think that running around for an hour once a week, taking pictures of anything and everything might be a good idea in general, especially if you get to walk up to two mean-lookin' toughs to ask if you could take a picture of their bald heads for a scavenger hunt. The one guy actually looked a little freaked out and didn't want to be in the picture, but his friend was pretty cool.

UPDATE: Holy smoking bananas, not only did I find the best shirt ever, but I just saw the most hilariously sweet song on youtube! Who in the world comes up with this stuff? It's so bad, but also so so good!

I Hate Being Martha

We had a friend over for Magic Bullet Shakes! tonight, which should have been fun and relaxing and a good time to catch up. However, about five minutes before he arrived, my roommate reminded me that there were some dirty dishes lying about the kitchen, so I set to work getting them into the dishwasher so we could pretend that we don't live in filth. I was still working on this task when our friend arrived, so everyone else sat around on the couches and talked and laughed while I cleaned. Finally our friend addressed me: "well, you're just a regular Martha over there, aren't you?"

Cue the resentment! First I resented my roommate for making me feel too guilty to stop cleaning once the company arrived. Then I resented everyone that was just sitting there when they could've helped out with the cleaning. Then I resented our friend for mentioning it, and also, according to that analogy, he's kind of calling himself Jesus. Then I resented the fact that everyone else was happy-why wasn't I? Then I resented myself for being so resentful.

Sheesh, it's hard enough for me to enjoy entertaining people and having conversations to begin with, do I really need all that extra stress in my life?

On the plus side, my shake tasted really good once I made it, and I kind of got over my resentfulness before everyone left, so I was able to socialize with people in a more pleasant way for some of the evening.

Thanksgiving Calories Burn-Off Program

Thanksgiving day: spend all day cooking. 'Nuff said.

Friday after: bike ride! After last Saturday's 66 miles, 20 miles seems like a piece of cake! Except that there was this nasty hill that made me want to faint and die, and then when we came back down the hill it was so fast and bumpy that by the end of the hill every part of my body was itchy as all get-out. Why does coldness + vibration = itch? The world may never know.

Also: walk around campus for a good hour, taking pictures like you always meant to. Yay!

Saturday after: hike up the steepest trail you can think of, go all the way around the canyon via ridgeline (cold, windy ridgeline!), then come back down the second steepest trail in the canyon. Freeze your fingers and arm fat off.

Also: take pictures of your hiking buddies' cute baby and also the frost you found on the leaves at the top (FROST!)

This is my grown-up Christmas List

1. A non-reactive pot that will hold at least one gallon of milk plus the volume of a human hand (including about 5 inches of arm). A nice pot, that doesn't get all scratchy or weird. No non-stick or aluminum or anything. I would prefer the two-handle variety over the one long handle.

2. A vespa! No, not really.

3. A wii, though, would be nice. I like non-shooting type games- mario things are fun, like mariokart or paper mario or something like that.

4. Hmm, the only thing I really want besides those things would be somebody to pay for jeans that I would pick out, and somebody to pay for the lock on my drivers' side door to be fixed. Other than that, I'm sure I'll love anything you want to give me.

5. Ok, I lied. There is something else that I want, but I feel selfish just thinking about asking for it. Please read my mind, figure out what it is that I want, and wrap it up for me in shiny green wrapping paper. I will love you forever, but also feel guilty forever, because I really don't need it, and probably won't use it with enough appreciation to deserve it. I mean, really- just don't buy me anything nice, because it'll only make me feel unworthy. Perhaps I just need some sessions with a shrink to figure out my self-esteem issues? Get me that instead :)

Happy Thanksgiving, Everybody! (also, wow- 500 posts)

What a momentous and amazing day. Think how grand life would be if every day your sole purpose and intention for the next twelve hours was to make something delicious to eat. Just think about it for a minute. There would be no war, no crime, no economy problems. Just a lot of happy people. If you spent every day making good things to eat, you would not only be satisfied from making something with your own bare hands, but also satisfied from being well fed.

May we all spend more days like this, and less days in strife and stress.

Here's a little favorite moment from the day for you:

I'm getting the turkey ready to put in the oven, washing it off and picking out stray feathers. My mother says, "Oh, you're going to be such a good mom! You're bathing it tenderly like your firstborn son!"

"Well, I don't want it to have nasty junk all over it when I eat it later."

My sister, joining in on the conversation: "Just like her firstborn son!"

Hurrah!

My coworker seems to think that everyone else takes just about every Friday afternoon off. If the phone doesn't ring for more than ten minutes in a row on a Friday any time after lunch, she usually remarks something along the lines of "well, I guess everybody's already gone home for the day. We're the only ones left."

And I think that she really believes this. Today, however, we were both pretty sure that a lot of people had left after lunch, or at least by three. Around 3:45 I was beginning to mildly wonder how I would spend my last hour at work- I was admittedly tired and antsy to be home, and there were only a few of us left in the office.

You know what's even better than knowing you only have to work until three the day before Thanksgiving? Thinking you have to work until five, then suddenly being reprieved at four. It's like a beautiful gift bestowed upon you by your boss. And really, I think it's better for everyone- believing that you have more time that you have to be there, you're probably more productive during the hours you do work than if you were sitting there counting down the minutes till you get to leave early, and the end of the day catches you by surprise and puts you in a good mood for the rest of your day. Plus, your boss gets to look really kind and merciful, even if he was planning on sending you home early all day.

Of course, if all that extra time you gain is eaten up by a massive kitchen-cleaning frenzy, the moment is kind of bittersweet.

Mmm-Mmm Good

There is something magical and thrilling about inviting one's friends and neighbors to dinner at one's home. It's like, you're going about your life, your home is just that place where you spend all your non-work time sitting on the couch and surfing the internet, then suddenly it's a warm, inviting place filled with amazing people and delicious foods, and everyone's happy to be there. How marvelous is that!

What's even better is when you get to show off your skillz in the process: your skillz of not being able to time the food to be ready at the same time, your skillz of not being a good conversationalist, and your skillz of ignoring the filthiness of the chinchillas' cage which should have been cleaned on Saturday except you were home for all of ten minutes on that day. The food was truly delectable- I got to make another galette and my roommate made the most lip-smacking sweet potato pie I've ever tasted. I did get to clean the bathroom, so my goal for the week has been completed! Now who's going to clean the kitchen and wash all the dishes I dirtied in the process of making dinner?

Things I am Thankful For

- I only have to work three days this week!
- I didn't get killed or otherwise run into during the race on Saturday
- Butternut squash
- My great neighbors that let me borrow their games and also come play the games with me.
- My camera, and technology in general



- and tiny dinosaurs visiting destruction on vacant lots!

Ding dong merrily on high

A long time ago, in galaxy far, far away (alright, it was only Saskatchewan), I had some roommates that were more different from me than most of the other roommates I've had in my life. Not just that they were Canadian, but that in general, they weren't my type of people. We found that we were still able to live together quite well, and we really liked being roommates; we all brought something special to our arrangement, and we did have certain things in common. Things like deciding that we would have dinner together at the table most nights, and we liked to play Pretty Pretty Princess together, and on several occasions found ourselves playing Mario Party till five in the morning and talking about whatever it is that people talk about at five in the morning.

But there were some things that we could never get over about our differences. We had more than one fight regarding whether the correct term was "colored pencil" or "pencil crayon," and I never accompanied them on pub crawls (or the more frequent "dorm crawls" where they would fill up a commuter mug with their alcoholic drink of choice and then stroll up and down the dorm hallways to the various parties that were going on every weekend, stopping back home every time their drinks got low). Probably the biggest difference, though, and the one that caused the most grief, was that of holiday music. I tried to play Alice's Restaurant for them on my American Thanksgiving, and after about five minutes they made me turn it off. We also had our differences of opinion on what constituted Christmas. I go for the more traditional stuff, like old English carol-type music, while their idea of "traditional" consisted of the Chipmunks' song "Oh Christmas Don't be Late." I would play some song for them and they would say "that's a Christmas song? It doesn't sound Christmassy to me," when to me, everything about it screamed Christmas. Now I kind of wonder- is there something special about "my" Christmas music that makes it sound Yule-ish, or do I just think so because that's what I grew up with?

I guess this is all just to say that, although I am usually a "Christmastime starts the day after Thanksgiving" person, I've started early this year. I don't know, it just seemed right tonight to put on the Chieftans' The Bells of Dublin.

Testing, 1 2 3

Ok, so the ride today was pretty awesome, and this year my dad and I were able to finish at the same time, with an amazing high-five right before the finish line. Although I did beat him by a split second.

Fun fact on the weird things adrenaline does to my body: it makes my thumbs hurt! During the first three or four miles of the race, my thumbs hurt like no other, as if I had been using them to pedal a hundred-mile race, rather than what I was really using them for, namely holding my hands on the handlebars during the first ten or fifteeen minutes of a race. Thankfully, the bizarre thumb malady wore off fairly quickly, and I was able to finish the ride without further digital incident.

Oh boy Oh boy Oh boy

In about ten hours, I'll be standing around the starting line for a bike race (well, it won't be a race for me, but you get the idea. They will be timing me), waiting to begin a long-ish journey. Hopefully I will make it without incident and without running out of steam too early on.

I am excited for two reasons: most importantly, wow, it'll be a great accomplishment and it's somehow more exciting to ride with a million other people riding around you. It's like a strange mobile community, slowly changing as you pass some people by and others pass you by. The finish line is a great place to be, and hopefully this year my father and I will cross at the same time. (Funny story, last year we crossed maybe an hour and a half apart, because towards the end of the route he lost a couple of spokes and couldn't go any further. I had to go on to the end by myself, then drive back to where I had left him sitting around on the side of the road, and switch out our back wheels so he could finish the ride.)

The other reason why I am so excited for this race may seem a little odd, but, my bathroom is filthy! For the past several months I have been spending every Saturday morning (prime bathroom cleaning time) training for the ride. I have let it take over my Saturday life because frankly, riding bikes is much more fun than scrubbing a toilet. This means that whatever cleaning I am able to squeeze in isn't really... of a thorough nature. I am looking forward to being able to devote some time and effort into keeping house (other things too will be cleaned, such as my bedroom, the kitchen, my office at work- the possibilities are endless! I may even clean my car!). There will be much loud Beatles-playing and singing along as I chisel away at the built-up grime and nastiness, and, dare I say it? I will open the windows and air out the house!

Surprise!

I love it when I go on a hideous 2-hour shopping trip in which my list consists of "giant hand sanitizer, pants, pastry blender, lunch foods?" and I come home with 1.5 of my desired items (pants, and a small hand sanitizer). I love it even more when I come home from such a trip and find some random guys sitting on my couch, watching a basketball game, with all my roommates in their bedrooms.

This raises some questions in my mind. Who let you people in? Why don't you watch the game on your own tv's? Why did you choose my house, instead of other people's? Is it just because we've got this great tv, or is it because you like to be around us in particular? Most importantly, how long will this game last? Because I want to hang around in my pajamas, and they're pretty old and threadbare and you probably don't want to see that.

This was really more interesting in my mind

I know this is probably one of the least interesting things I can do to an audience, along with letting you know what I had for lunch, but let me tell you about the freaky dream I had last night.

Ok, first, I dreamt that I went to work with my hair all wet, up in a towel. Freaky! Then, I get to work, and my boss calls a meeting with everybody from the office, as well as a friend of mine that I'm not even sure why he was there. So weird! Then! Right as we're sitting down for the meeting, me with my wet towel hair, the girl whose life I ruined yesterday charges in, yelling and chasing me around and I'm trying to hide somewhere so I can quickly un-towel my hair and brush it and pretend to look professional. Stressful! Then, she disappears and in her place a bunch of people from another office come for a meeting with us, but they keep wandering around the front desk and touching things, and I'm trying to herd them like a bunch of sheep, to get them back to the conference table where we're supposed to be meeting, and the whole thing is a fiasco because I still haven't brushed my hair! What a terrible dream!

Nyargh!

Sometimes I think about my job, and how much I would love to go work at a bookstore or maybe even the Taco Bell I worked at just out of high school. Ok, maybe not the Taco Bell, but perhaps the bagel place. That was a pretty sweet gig- I went there, I sliced bagels and made sandwiches all day, made some lattes and stuff, then went home. The only bad part about that job was the way I came home reeking of garlic every day.

The bad part about my current job is that sometimes I have to ruin somebody's life. I hate that! Today I ruined someone's life over the phone (speakerphone!) and she yelled and screamed at me, as if it was my fault and as if yelling and screaming would get anything done. Newsflash, sister: yelling and screaming is at best a waste of time, at its worst it might make less-patient people even more unlikely to help you. Why don't people realize how incredibly counterproductive that kind of a response to bad news is?

The sad thing is that I really didn't want to ruin her life at all. I wanted her to be happy and un-ruined. When it became clear that I had to ruin her life, I would have been so happy if she had listened to what I had to say, took a deep breath, and said something along the lines of, "wow, I'm really frustrated and angry at this situation. What can I do to fix it?" Because then I could have told her the two approaches to fixing the situation that I had figured out with my boss, and she could have started working on them. Instead, she yelled and screamed and demanded my boss' boss' phone number before hanging up on us. And her life is still ruined.