13.

Uh oh! First drunk post of NaBloPoMo. Guess it had to happen sometime.



In other news, I had a most excellent evening with the woman who is designing my wedding dress. It's lovely when someone knows exactly what you want.

12.

I went to a symposium on orangutans* tonight, and now I'm worried about the use of unsustainable palm oil in 1 out of every 10 of the groceries I buy.

However, I got an awesome, laminated, actual handprint of an orangutan!



So, you know, yin and yang.

For more on the orangutans I saw at the Brookfield Zoo (including video of the new baby, born October 6th!!), go here.

For a list of orangutan-friendly consumer choices, go here.

*Did you know that "orangutan" is pronounced "O-RANG-OO-TAN?" Because, you know, you pronounce it like it's spelled. I know, crazy concept.

11.

Today, while driving to work, a big ol' fat pigeon was walking across the road. Walking. At a quick pace, all, "Dude, I have got to get out of this street!"

That's the thing, though. He just....walked. So I waited for him to cross, because I have a secret love for pigeons. Yeah, yeah, rats with wings, blahblahblah. They're still fat and cute, and some of them have the most amazing feather colors. I also used to love it when my cat would be driven bat-shit crazy by the cooing pigeons in the gutters of the house next door.

Anyway.

So I was all, "Oh, the poor thing. He can't fly." And I patiently waited until he crossed. Except that once he crossed, and was safely on the sidewalk, he took off flying. He could have flown right from the bat, and been safe, but instead he chose the more complicated option of defying Death by Car Smoosh and walking across the street.

Then I almost got into a car accident due to Deep Thought, because that damn pigeon reminded me exactly of me. Do it that way? Nah, I'd prefer to not take your advice, or see what's probably best for me, and instead take this 'roundabout, complicated, convoluted way. Ok, thanks!

Man. We better lighten up this entry with a little PigeonKam.

10.

Oh my God.

I have a midterm due tonight at midnight!

Sigh.

Guess I'm going to have to work on it while I watch Heroes. Let's see who is (suddenly)(inexplicably)(annoyingly) related to whom THIS week.

9.

Holy geez:



We've reached a whole new level of dorky dog ownership.

Moxie cannot stand the cold. She either spends winter sitting in front of the heater, lying on top of me (or under a blanket that's on top of me), or doing her FAVORITE thing: being carried around in my shirt.

So this is a Ru Sack recommended to me by the people that I adopted Moxie from, Midwest Dachshund Rescue. I got it for 1/2 off because the pink-butterflies-on-pink wasn't exactly flying off the shelves, if you catch my drift. But I think I can do something crafty to cover up the pink.

She's been in it since I got home. And on the weekends when I'm doing housework, this is going to beat the hell out of having to tuck the bottom of my sweatshirt into the top of my pants and carrying her around that way.

8.

Don't have too much to report to you today. Just went to a baby shower, and now I'm "cleaning." I put that in parentheses because really I just seem to pick up one thing, move it somewhere else, and then take a 45-minute break.

So, since I have nothing else to give you, here's me holding a dog wearing boots:

At the top of my list.

I know it's uncanny of me to post twice in the same day, but OH MY GOD. I'M DYING. I'M DEAD:

Baby Pygmy Hippo Size of Puppy

And now I know what I want for Christmas!

7.

First off, sorry about the downer of a #6 entry yesterday. Part of my Crazy (you know, the quirks and foibles that make me who I am – and, most likely, make me a person that is hated by some) is that I tend to have a hard time stepping out of the proverbial box and going, “Oh, the reason that I feel desperate/fruitless/unable to control the whirling dervish of Cup-Half-Empty is really just because I am tired of the work week, the daily grind, the automated way Monday through Thursday feels, etc. etc.”

I think Daylight Savings Time doesn’t help, either. Daylight Savings never ceases to amaze me in how quickly you go from that blissful weekend with the extra hour, to “Oh. It’s 4:30, I’m still at work, and it’s pitch-black outside, so therefore I can no longer focus on anything work-related” ennui.

So anyways.

P.S. - I cannot use the word ennui without thinking of Neville:



******

This weekend is shaping up to be one of those where I'll be running all over the greater Chicagoland area. Tomorrow, I'm headed to my friend Alyssa's baby shower. I have yet to buy a gift. I'm waiting for tonight, because Alyssa plans to use gDiapers, and I have to go to Whole Foods to get them. I love going to Whole Foods, and ogling at all the stuff that is about nine million dollars more expensive than the same exact stuff at Trader Joe's. Steve and I will probably head out of there with the gDiapers PLUS a quarter-pound of some ridiculously overpriced deli salad, just because it was there, for nine million dollars a pound. At least, that's historically how our (infrequent) (because we're poor) Whole Foods trips have gone down.

Sunday, I'm trying on wedding gowns. I can not stress to you enough how much I don't want to do this. A friend of mine is (hopefully) making my dress, and she is a lot more like-minded to what I'm thinking of for my dress than, say, mother f'n David's Bridal. But the idea is that I will go try on some dresses, see what looks great and what looks like poo, and with what I found out we will try to fashion a dress. Blech.

The real reason that we're going to a wedding dress superstore, though, is to look at bridesmaids' dresses. I have five bridesmaids, who are such incredibly different sizes and shapes (One's 5'11"! One's 4'11"!) that it would look totally awful if they were all in the same dress. SO, I am picking a color from a bridal superstore, and they can get whatever style dress they want, as long as it's in that color. I would like to see the colors in person, though, before I go asking my friends to spend money on a dress for me and my "special day." See? When you say it out loud, don't weddings sound like complete crap?

So, yeah.

I guess I should probably do some work now. I have a midterm due on Tuesday, that asks ridiculous questions such as" "What does Social Studies mean to you? What? How do you answer that? I feel like this is high school, and I'm being quizzed about why I want to join the cheerleading team.

6.

Today was a particularly difficult day. Just, you know, when Life is just a little bit too much to take. Do you ever have those days when things just seem totally desperate?

"I'm not doing enough/we're not doing enough/will I ever finish school/will we ever actually have a savings/will Steve get a job/etc., etc., etc."

Ugh.

There is just a huge chunk of Life that I haven't lived yet, and I sit and I worry and I have a hard time calming down and realizing that worrying isn't going to make it any better. I can't control everything. There's just no possible way.

But, man, I really wish I could.

5.

Being part of history is exhausting! All I could do after I got home from work today was put on fat pants and watch Season 2 of "The Golden Girls." Which I've seen all of before, but come on, good shit is good shit.

Anywho, for those who were waiting patiently my Obama rally photos (click on the awesome jumbotron image that would come one when CNN went to commercial):



Alot of the photos are pretty crappy, because when you're witnessing something as momentous as what we witnessed, making sure you take a quality shot isn't exactly on the top of the list. So I spent all night tonight while I was watching the Girls lightening up all the photos of Obama giving his speech, so at least you had a general idea of where we were.

What a great night. What a wonderful thing to witness. Seriously, folks. SERIOUSLY.

4.

OMG, readers. OH EM GEE. What an exciting day. I am equal parts nervous/excited/ready for this fucking thing to be over.

Tonight S. and I are getting on the bus and heading down to the rally. I am a bit nervous that I will get trampled to death when this town BLOWS UP. But I’m willing to take the chance, to be a part of history. All the flare is ready to go, my Sensible Shoes are waiting to be put on (in case there is rioting and I have to run for my life), I stopped drinking liquids after 2 p.m. so I won't have to use the Porta Potties too much....LET'S DO THIS.

Emily posted this on her Flickr page, and it has been my desktop for the last month, so I think it seems appropriate:



Pictures from the rally tomorrow. GO OBAMA! OBAMA, YOU'RE MY BARACK LOBSTER!

3.

Oh my God, day three, and already I'm talking about the weather.

But I have a good reason! It's a record-breaking 70 degrees in Chicago right now. And while it is lovely to feel warm air on my face, and to have the windows open to clear out dog smell (ever since one of my turd-y future brothers-in-law commented that my house smells like dog, I have been completely freaked out that he's right. To the point of asking everyone that comes over if they think he's right. So far he's the only one, but the Seed of Doubt and Self-Consciousness has been planted.), it also seems extraextra depressing, because we are really at the beginning of the interminably long Chicago winter, and this is just some cruel anomaly. So I jubilantly walk the dogs, free of sweaters and scarves and all the other cold-air miscellany, and then I look down at the ground at all the fall leaves and the reality sets in. Lies! I will be in front of the heater for the next six months!

But in more exciting news, Barack is going to be emailing my tickets to the rally tomorrow "by email, between 6 and 7 p.m." It all seems so covert, like I'm in on some big secret with him. Me and 49,999 other people.

I will post photos of the rally tomorrow. Provided I don't get trampled to death.

2.

So, my b.f.f Barack Obama finally got back to me today, letting me know that I have a ticket to his Grant Park Rally Tuesday night, and while a part of me is super-excited to be a part of history and also to wear all my Obama flare, the Always-Assume-the-Worst-My-Cup-Is-Perpetually-Half-Empty part of me is absolutely terrified to be in the midst of either a jubilant victory or a crushing defeat. Either way, Chicago will probably riot. We're sort of like that scene in the "Blues Brothers," where the audience continues to throw bottles at Jake and Ellwood, even though they approve of their rendition of "Stand By Your Man."

Yeah. Exactly like that.

1.

Here we go again! I don't know why I'm signing up for NaBloPoMo again....last year almost killed me. But what the Hell. Let's try it again.

Please turn in by Saturday, 11:59 P.M. CST.

You know what's totally bogus? Online college courses, that make up for the fact that you don't have to go to the actual class by giving you the most redundant, totally un-applicable busy work EVER. I mean, we're talking work on par with that stuff you did for that freshman year anthro class you just took to get some credits out of the way. You know, the one with the Chinese professor who droned on and on inaudibly, and pretended to ignore when students would raise their hand to ask a question? Yeah, it's like that.

You know what's awesome? Getting drunk at a wedding with live fish centerpieces, and taking home four fishies for yourself.

Turn and face the strain.

Is it bad that I've invented a game for my nephew when he comes to my apartment, called "Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes," where he walks around the squalor I live in and picks up loose coins that have fallen out of my pockets and I haven't yet picked up? I've given him his own little wallet, and I sing to him in my best David Bowie impression.

Maybe it is, but hoo man, you should have seen the excitement when we found that Sacagawea.

And now, a public service announcement.

To my fellow bicycle riders in Chicago (and anywhere else, for that matter): please, please wear a helmet. You never know when something like this might happen.

You don't need to wear a big, baby blue one like, oh, some of us, but wear SOMETHING.

Be proud, not embarrassed! Because you are saving your precious head. If you have ever read up on traumatic brain injury, or worked with victims of TBI, like my friend Jenny did, then you know how important it is to protect your brain.

I mentioned this in my comment to Lisa. This actually happened to me:

"The other day a hipster wearing only a sweatband around his head laughed at my Big Blue Helmet as I rode past him. Guess what, hipster? Your stupid, ironic sweatband won't do jack shit when your cranium meets curb, buddy."

****

If you DO like my big, blue helmet (and maybe have a smaller head, so your helmet won't be a ginormous beacon like mine - the guy at the bike store said, "Oh, I doubt you need a large," to which I said, "Oh, I assure you, I do"), you can find it here. It's the Pryme 8, and while I don't see baby blue as an option anymore (huh!), there are some other fabulous colors.

Summer could end right now, and it would have still been awesome.

Oh man, Internet, I had the best 4th of July, ever.

Thursday night we rode our bikes to the Chicago Grant Park fireworks. We ended up right on the river, and there was much debate about whether we would see any of fireworks, or if they'd be obscured by the high-rises.

Shazzam!

Sorry the video is so crappy - fireworks are my favorite, and finales just rock my world, so I wasn't concentrating on good documentation.

Friday - oh, Friday! It started out with a 4th of July parade. Hey, did you know that llama handlers are ridiculously hot? Neither did I!



Also, if I were to own a hog, I would want it to look exactly like this.

From the parade, we went to my man's parents' house, where we bobbed around in the pool, and ate, oh, I don't know, probably five different kinds of meat. Then we all grabbed some lawn chairs and out on the front lawn, for a real South Side fireworks display.



Highlights include a shell that was supposed to go about 100 feet up in the air, but instead hovered about 12 inches off the ground and then blew up, nearly killing us. My man's brother had to teach the neighbors how to properly load a shell after that, probably saving a bunch of fingers in the process. Noone was hurt, making The Shell That Wasn't Handled Correctly one of the most awesome parts of the night.

Until I blew off my first roman candle:



I can't explain the jaunty hand on my hip, except that I was excited, terrified, and giddy as a cheerleader.

The day after the 4th I lazed around in that "Oh my God, it's only SATURDAY!" 3-day weekend bliss, which included several naps and a walk to the doggie store to get biodegradable poop bags. Later that night, some friends came over and we played a rousing game of Taboo on my back porch. You know, board games always seem sort of lame in my head, but then I actually play them and realize, oh! They're actually pretty fun. Especially when you haven't drunk a drop of the alco-mo-hol, but everyone around you has, and you watch their Taboo prowess deteriorate rapidly while you remain sharp as ever. Huzzah!

Sunday finally came, and I couldn't just let the party end, so Amelia and I hopped on our bikes and rode to SummerDance, where we danced around and sort of heat-stroked, but in a fun way. And this guy asked me to dance, criticized me as we danced, THEN asked me about four times if I was going to be at SummerDance next week. Probably not, thanks to you, buddy!

****

So, so much fun. And now I'm back at work, and it's stormy outside, which just adds a whole new depressing slant to this Monday.

I'm going to try to post more this month. There are some awesome things on the horizon. Guess what isn't one of them? This stupid online class I'm taking for school that is supposed to start today, but noone has heard a thing about. Class, I'm over you already.

Lip service.

Internets! Word.

So yesterday, I had one of those infuriating situations wherein I could not for the life of me find my lip gloss. This isn’t saying that I had lost all 453,697 tubes of lip gloss that are scattered throughout my house; I had just lost the one lip gloss that I am currently using and attached to, thereby negating the other 453,696. Anyways, I searched high and lo, lo and high, and nothing came up. What was driving me bat-shit crazy was that I knew – KNEW – that if I bought another one (to the tune of $6.99! Life, you are too expensive), I would find the tube that I lost. However, my lips felt like a dead person’s lips (or what I imagine a dead person’s lips would feel like, I am not talking from experience here), so I broke down and bought another tube.

Flash forward to that evening, when I was sitting in my normal evening spot, sucking down a couple Fla-Vor-Ices, and I look down at the ground, and what do I see? My lipgloss! Only it was a good thing that I bought another one, because the tube was punctured with several doggie-sized tooth holes! Turns out my gloss had been taken to the Secret Lair (read: under the couch) where my underpants, Steve’s socks, and now apparently sweet-smelling lip gloss go to die.

So it wasn’t completely Crappy Consumer of me to buy a new gloss, I would have needed to anyways.* Which made me feel pretty good. I had decided, though, to go with “Pucker Berry” instead of my “Zesty Red” when I re-bought, because even though people claimed to like the red on my lips, I always felt like “Zesty Red” had me walking that shaky, fine line between “pretty” and “two-bit corner prostitute.” But it turns out that “Pucker Berry” should really just be called “Emily’s Normal Lip Color,” because that’s really all it is. Oh wells. I’m going to protect this tube until it runs out, and then I can re-asses whether “Zesty Red” and I can live in harmony.

*Well, buy another lip gloss to go with the 453,696 that are at home.**
**I should really throw all of those out.

You ARE my boo.

I desperately, desperately want this t-shirt:

Anderson Cooper, "you're not my boo"

Lovely loveliness.

So I have to give a shout-out where one is due. Chicago really stepped it up a notch this past weekend, weather-wise. It was beautiful, not too hot, not too windy, sunny....heaven! Actually, it was what San Francisco should have been when I was there last month, only instead it was 90 degrees, and because I'm a fragile flower when it comes to heat (read: practically a vampire), I kept on having to sit down, felled by cases of "the vapors."

I think Chicago might have pulled out the weather stops because the lovely Patti and Jay were in town. As expected, they totally kick ass and take names. Jay even signed my copies of The Plug Anthologies. One day when he's rich and famous, those are going to be worth something, baby.

Here's a weird story, though:

Before I left to go meet Patti and Jay, I was getting dressed and I asked Steve what he though I should wear, not really because he cares or because I care about what he thinks of my outfits, but more because he was there, and I had to muse about it to someone. Anywho, he said, jokingly, "Wear a dress. Be a lady for once." So I punched him in the face, then put on a dress.

So on my way home from Plug signing and drinks, I cut through Wicker Park, and passed a mailman. He looked at me and said, "Lookin' lovely today!" Which I responded to with a smile and a "Thank you," because my mom raised me right. But then - then! He looked at me with this sort of pained expression and went, "You just can't help being lovely, can you." Like I was hurting him with this supposed loveliness or something. I felt guilty. Guilty! I ducked my head and walked away! Stupid mailman!

****

In other news, I've started back up at school again. Time to finish that Master's, once and for all. So even though I wasn't posting before for no good reason, now I have a totally viable, acceptable one for why I'll be MIA. Which, oddly, makes me feel better about neglecting this blog. Maybe, if I have some time, I'll work on the layout so that it's no longer this pink that burns out your eyeballs. Maybe.

We meet again.

Internet! I'm so sorry I've been away. I actually haven't been away, really, it's just that most of my Internet time has been spent on my 365 project. Which I'm happy to report that I haven't given up on, even with my tendency to be wishy-washy, as well as a Quitter. No! I'm over a third of the way done, actually. My grand plan is to print all of the photographs out and put them in an album, along with the outtakes. Or at least some of the outtakes. Some of them are rather ridiculous. Anywho, so this album will be a sort of virtual diary of this past year. I'm pretty excited about it. I just need to find my memory card, get to a photo place, print the photos, buy an album....!!!! I guess I still have 240 days to get that started, so I'm not sweating it.

Anyways! Some things:

1. Changed the layout of this page, just because I was tired of the old one. However, this is rather shockingly pink. If anyone has any suggestions for making a page that's not sort of lame, that would be cool. One thing that really bugs me about Blogger is how all of the formats cut photos off on one of their sides.

2. I'm re-making my clapotis. My first attempt at the clapotis did not end well, but this time around has gone pretty smoothly, so far:



I'm hoping to have it done before I leave for List Number 3.

3. Oh yeah: I'M LEAVING FOR SAN FRANCISCO IN A WEEK!! My friends and I are going to visit another friend who's at Berkeley. Girls only, so Steve needs to stay at home. He's totally despondent. But I need this vacation, man. Time to unwind, be away from responsibilities, get some good Girl Time in....yes. I'm very excited.

4. I went to a beginning sewing class on Saturday, at this adorable basement shop in Bucktown. In four hours, they taught us a hell of a lot of stuff, and I ended up with a great pillow at the end:



So now, I want to sew EVERYTHING. A little birdie told me that this is a very good book for beginners like me. Amazon's already got my cash.

5. I've been spending the last few months green-ing my apartment. Yes, all of the hype in the news was sufficient enough to scare me into replacing all of my cleaning products, throwing reusable bags into my purse, not using paper napkins....it's costing me a frickin' FORTUNE to do it, but I figure a little expense now for a better environment for those kids I allegedly plan on having? Sign me up.

****

So that's it for me. Internet, I still love you, and look at everyone else's blogs every day. I promise to be a better little blogger.....but maybe not until I get back from San Francisco.

Get cool, boooooy.

So I've been taking the dogs on these epic walks, right into the thick of things in Wicker Park, to try to get them to be more socialized when a dog goes by. Which, in a large metropolitan city, is once every 5 seconds. Anyway, I've realized that I've taught them not to bark by using the words "Be cool, be cool." Apparently, I am training my dogs not to bark, while at the same time teaching them how to make it in a West Side Story gang.

****

Last night, we went for margaritas at Tecalitlan:



I ended up like this:



Damn margaritas and their ability to make you not feel your feet.

I owe the Chicago Public Library ninety dollars.

Just now, I was writing an email to my friend Jeff about books we've read, and while I was doing this, my brain said to itself, "Gosh, I wish they had something like Netflix for books."

And then my brain thought about it, and then went, "Oh good Lord. That's what a library is."

I was appalled that my brain had this monologue with itself. Even more appalling, though, was that I found out that there actually is such a thing.

Saying goodbye.

Today on the way home from work for lunch, “Undone” came on the radio, and instinctively I rolled down my window and turned it up, as I’ve found I always do whenever a Good-Era-Weezer song comes on the air. It’s like I’m slipping back in time to eighth grade, where I would do the same thing, I guess in the hopes that another like-minded eighth-grade boy would hear the music and turn in the direction of the car, and from there a tumultuous eighth-grade relationship would begin. I think you can probably guess that this never happened. I bet it’s just because my mom was crimping my style, there in the driver’s seat.

Anyways, so I’m jamming, right, and then I remember a conversation that Steve and I had last night over dinner, which involved him giving me the news that Weezer is releasing a new album, and that said album won’t have a name, but it will be colored red, a la 1994 and 2001.

He also told me that word on the street is that Rivers is also sporting a thin, hipster-ironic mustache, too. I guess here I should clarify that "the street" = music message boards that Steve contributes to, which I consistently make fun of because he makes fun of me for my Flickr obsession. Glass houses, Steve. But anyways - Rivers! Thin, hipster-ironic mustache! On any other man I'd say that I'm 100% pro-facial hair of any kind, EVEN the ironic kind, but because he's Rivers Cuomo, this news just makes me want to sock him square in the mustachioed* face!

My hatred for Rivers is based partly on his horrible musical contributions in the last few years, but more because of that time when Weezer did a record-signing at Mars Cheese Castle, and Steve went, and as they were getting on to their bus Steve called, "Wait! Would any of you like a cheese curd?" Brian Bell and Rivers gave him dirty looks, while Patrick Wilson said, "Sweet! Thanks!" and took one. So everyone in Weezer save Patrick Wilson are dead to me now.

Needless to say, 2008 Me gave a sad, figurative wave goodbye to 1994 Me, rolled the window up, and changed the radio station.

****

As I was leaving my house on the way back from this same lunch, I remembered I hadn't taken my birth control pill yet, so I did a little pillpop&walk to my car. I looked up as I was multitasking, and saw a chick walking with two little kids in a stroller right in front of me. She sort of looked at me, and I can't be sure if it was because I might be in her way, or if she saw that unmistakeable packaging and was offended that I remembered to take my pills because I saw her kids. That wasn't the case at all! Wise 2008 Me realized, though, that trying to possibly explain this to a total stranger was venturing into a World of Hurt, so I just felt like a tool and soldiered on.

Then I bashed my head on the doorframe of my car, which I normally would want to do something stupid like chalk that up to karma or something, but fuck that noise. As of now I refuse to be superstitious.

*Mustachioed is one of my favorite words! I got sort of bummed when I read that there is an adjective equivalent for plain old mustache. I refuse** to use it.

**I'm chock-full of refusals today! Ask me to marry you! I'm not going to say yes!

Thundersnow: Not nearly as cool as Thunderdome.

Yesterday we had thundersnow. THUNDERSNOW. Just kill me now, please. Apparently I no longer live in Chicago, I've been teleported to Narnia, pre-Pevensie intervention. Goddammit it.

Last night all I could do was make a meatloaf in my I Love Lucy flannel pajamas.



I'm still wearing my flannel pajamas at the end of March! Goddammit it.

****

Steve has abandoned me for the weekend. He's going to Memphis, to MLB's Civil Rights Game, which features the White Sox vs. the Mets.

Really I'm happy that he's going, because he's not necessarily one of those people that throws caution to the wind and takes off for a selfish weekend. I think you need those sometimes, though. He's meeting his brother, who's a pilot at Southern Illinois University, and he's going to sleep on his bro's couch and, I don't know, do some other shit that you do with a bunch of college guys.

I did my requisite freak-out-at-Steve-and-make-him-the-sole-reason-my-life-sucks routine early last night, only to realize (and admit - I'm not above admitting) that it was really just my mind finally reacting to possibly missing him while he's away. I tend to go the Nonsensical Route when it comes to dealing with my emotions.

Actually, though, I sort of wanted Steve out of the apartment for the weekend because I have a date with my mom, my carpeting, and a Rug Doctor. We are going to clean the hell out of that indoor/outdoor eyesore that is my floor. Then, starting Monday, the kids are going to be sequestered to the kitchen when I'm not home. It's definitely a downgrade from their awesome couch privileges, but it will also be nice not to have my apartment smell like piss.



****

I also have a date on Sunday night with PBS, and the final installment of "The Complete Jane Austen." Incidentally, today I got an email from some friends of mine informing me of a movie night that, sadly, is at the same time as "Sense and Sensibility."

Sorry guys, but escapism-through-Romantic-era-costume-drama wins.

And I think it's gonna be a long, long time.

I've decided that, this summer, I'm going to channel Elton John whenever I step out into the sun:



Except I'm going to channel awesome Elton, not any of that 1980's, 1990's, "Circle of Life" shit.

Teeth curls

I just opened up my new pack of Orbit Gum, and on the back of the box, it says, in BIG letters:

"HELPS FIGHT CAVITIES BY STRENGTHENING TEETH."

So all morning, all I've been thinking of is an image of my little teeth, sweatin' it out in my mouth, doing squats, lifts and cardio.

Tuesdays in a boring office can do this sort of thing to you.

Just as bright as pink.

Happy Easter! I really pulled out all the stops when choosing my Easter outfit this year, and decided to abandon the normal spring-y colors of this season and instead celebrate Christ's resurrection by dressing in the colors your bruise turns a few days after you plowed your shin into the coffee table:



All I need is an bonnet, and I'm set.

****

Moxie has been getting 5mg of Pepcid AC twice a day, thanks to a recent bout of diarrhea and vomiting. Call me crazy, but I think it had something to do with that ENTIRE LOAF OF WONDERBREAD SHE ATE ON THURSDAY. I walked in the door of my apartment, and all that was left of the bread Steve had bought the night before was a ripped plastic bag and one of the heel ends.

As she was heaving up a whole slice onto my shoe, I stepped out of the situation for a moment, and thought that perhaps, maybe, I should have just cut my losses when the cat died, and been left with only one animal to take care of. I couldn't for the life of me remember why I had thought it was a good idea to get another dog.

But then I took off said soiled shoes, went inside, and Moxie wriggled and writhed on the ground in complete Adorable Mode - I mean, she really knows how to dish out the Cute, and dishes it she does - and, well.....acidic, yeasty bread vomit can't hurt a suede boot too much, right?

Sigh.

Flocked and fabulous.

I can't seem to get these guys out of my head. It stemmed from a conversation I had with Steve in the car on the way up to St. Paul, where I was sitting in the passenger seat, thinking about things, and I thought about those little flocked bears with country clothing that I used to have as a kid. I asked Steve if he remembered them (although I didn't know the name), and of course he didn't, because why would Steve know of any toy that didn't have buttons, beeps, or was named after famous artists? Yeah, of course not.

Well so, during a boring Friday at the old job, I was looking at Playmobil stuff - because it's awesome and I've always wanted some and when I was a kid it was too expensive (shit, it's too expensive for adult me, too) - and long story short, I found the little animals again. Apparently in the U.S. they're called Calico Critters of Cloverleaf Corner. Per usual, the Europeans are, indeed, more awesome.

Anyways, I haven't gone and bought anything, though, because I started off this year teetering on the brink of financial ruin, and I'm not very interested in going through that again. But I seem to get this sick thrill from looking at things I could potentially buy, and then! Then! Not buying them.

Such cheap thrills when you're broke.

****

I think I'll leave you with this. Just, well, because.

Neighbors to the North.

Whoo! Steve and I went on a whirlwind vacation up to St. Paul, Minnesota this weekend, to see a live taping of "A Prairie Home Companion", and to visit with Sharyn.

Super-great time. Didn't take enough photos, per usual. But the ones that were taken (mostly by Steve - he's the preserver of memories in this relationship) were pretty awesome. I mean, how awesome is Ruth?

TRUly a SIGHT to BEhold!

I have these bad weeks sometimes, where I feel like the Asian Howard Cosell drag racing commentators from "Better Off Dead" are narrating all the stupid shit that keeps happening to me.

Examples:

Monday:
WILL Emily's landlord ever call her BACK so she can get into her apartment beFORE the dogs piss everywhere? Can she keep her COOL when the landlord tries to blame the broken lock on her for WIGGLING THE LOCK TOO MUCH?
No. Apparently, I can't control myself when I'm filled with the blinding-white rage.

Tuesday:
Can Emily walk MOJO through the PETSMART without him taking a SHIT on the floor?
No. Actually, no times two. He shat twice.

Wednesday:
WILL Emily get up the ENERGY to do the laundry because she HAS NO SOCKS?
Nope. Looks like tomorrow's an obligatory dress-up-with-skirt day, so I can wear some tights instead.

So, yeah. This week? Lametown. On the flipside, even though it's like 13 degrees outside or something, my body has decided it's had enough of this winter BULLSHIT, and apparently I've become impervious to cold. Seriously. I could go run outside in my underwear. Is this how Inuits feel all the time?

NIU Shooting.

Our Valentine's Day has been a bit sidetracked by waiting to hear if Steve's brother was ok in the aftermath of the shootings at NIU, since he's a student there, and his apartment is within a block of where the shootings happened. He's ok, we're still waiting for word on a family friend, and we're waiting for his block to be opened back up before anyone goes and gets him.

This is bullshit. I am so tired of these random murder/suicides. If it's your prerogative to blow your brains out, do it on your own. There is no need to turn it into a senseless, angry, and deadly Pity Party.

I hate people sometimes.

Knitting it, just a little bit.

So, want some money from me? Probably, because EVERYONE SEEMS TO WANT MONEY FROM ME RIGHT NOW. If it's not one thing, it's the next. Jesus. The Jeep's power steering pump needs to be replaced. $370 later, the ol' girl is running like a champ. Which I'm really glad about, because have you ever lost your power steering? It's TOTALLY AWESOME. And by "awesome" I mean I was dictating my will to myself every time I tried to make a turn.

Ball sack.

****

Let's see....what else has been going on. Oh, right. This winter. Brutal, man. All I can do is sit around, knit, and watch documentaries about Mormons on PBS.

I think I can justify watching so much television if I'm being productive while I'm doing it. Here are the things I've made while watching my beloved PBS:

Slipper socks:

Finished while watching "The Mummy Who Would Be King".

Elephant for Steve:

Finished while watching "Oprah's Roots", which, FYI, weren't as interesting as I think she would have liked them to be. Ha HA.

First two pieces of Mystery Knitting Project 3000:


Finished while watching the Superbowl, and then watching "African American Lives 2," Part One.

And, finally, a slice of birthday cake for my friend Jenny, who turns 27 today:

Finished while watching Part Two of "African American Lives 2," and begun while mooning over Colin Firth while viewing "Pride and Prejudice" for the five-millionth time.

So there you go. It's gotten to the point where checking PBS has become part of my morning routine. I use it to plan the rest of my day. Oh, Steve, you wanted to go out for a romantic dinner? Sorry, can't. New episode of the Roadshow.

****

Lastly, I have been wearing the same pants to work for the last three days. I justified this because underneath the pants I have been wearing Steve's long underwear for extra warmth. I love doing that, despite feeling fat all day because I'm wearing two pairs of pants, and having to stuff all the extra fabric in the long underwear's crotch down one pant leg.

Anyways, I decided I would break the monotony and wear a different pair of pants today, so I pulled out another pair of pants from my soul-less, uncomfortable biz-casz cache. And guess what? When I get to work, I notice there's a big, freakin, post-wash stain on the leg. So I look even MORE ghetto than I did when I was wearing the same pants for three days. Awesome. I'm done. I will no longer make an effort. I am teetering on the brink of just getting it over with and wearing sweatpants.

Blogger suicide.

I know this is one of the biggest No-Nos of the blogging world, to post a survey. And not just post a survey, mind you, but post a survey from MYSPACE, of all places.

But, I have been holed-up in the house in the midst of a craaaazy winter depression, a depression of the "Fuck, I'm cold, I'm not going to leave my house until it's 60 degrees again. See you in April" kind. So this is all I've got.

"The Survey of Surveys," or, "Why Do You Care Where My Dad Is?"

What level do you play in Guitar Hero?
Oh, I'm absolutely abysmal at GH. But my man's pretty awesome at it.

Are you wearing jeans right now?
No, I'm in a robe. Just got out of the shower, you see. An hour ago.

Where is your dad?
What, you looking for him?

Do you live with both of your parents?
Neither, just two dogs. The Guitar Hero wunderkind comes and visits from time to time. Actually, he's asleep on my couch right now, the leech.

Do you think too much or too little?
Too much.

Do you smile a lot?
I suppose.

How much is gas where u live?
$3.49. And I drive a Jeep. Death!

What was the last compliment you received, and when?
Steve squeezed my arm and said, "Boy, I can tell you've been working out." Obviously he's full of crap.

Have you ever flown in a plane?
Yeah. Won't say how much though because the small number will depress me.

Are you for or against abortion?
I'm pro-choice, but if I were to make an "oops" I'd probably have it myself.

Do you prefer to call or text?
Text. Isn't that sad? I hate talking on the phone.

Do you have any siblings?
A sister.

Are you close with them?
Schyeah.

How many people do you trust 100%?
Several.

Where did you get the shirt you're wearing?
My robe? Don't know, I got it a bajillion years ago. The sweatshirt I'm going to wear today, though, is from the J. Crew outlet. Hey, what's up with their sizing? Their stuff is HUGE. My sweatshirt is a woman's small and believe me, that cannot be farther from the truth.

What's the last movie you saw in the theater?
"There Will Be Blood." Hoo boy.

Can you live without the computer?
Probably not.

When was the last time you got flowers?
NEVER, STEVE.

Do you wish at 11:11?
Sometimes I do, and I still say "rabbit rabbit" on the first day of the month. Absolute jack-shit has happened doing either of these things.

Do you have any piercings?
Ears and nose.

Who was the last person you laid in bed with?
Well, that's pretty forward.

Whats your middle name?
Allwood. I know, right?

How big is your bed?
I think it's a full. But I buy queen-sized comforters so I can be enveloped in softness.

Ever get so drunk you couldn't remember the entire night?
Nope. That's crazy-town, man.

Can you play any instruments?
Used to play saxophone, clarinet, flute, piccolo, and tenor saxophone. God, I was so ambitious as a kid.

Are you hiding something from someone?
Not that I know of. Maybe the 50-piece set of plastic tools I bought for my nephew.

Are you a giver or a taker?
Umm. I'd say I'm 50/50.
.
.
.
.
.
Ok, maybe 60/40 taker....

What was your first thought when you looked in the mirror this morning?
"Sheesh."

Do you like your hair long or short?
Umm, shorter. Steve likes it long. To which I say, "YOU STYLE IT, THEN."

Have you memorized your social security number?
Yeah, ever since they printed it wrong on my first license, and I went to fill out college applications and they were all, "Umm, hey, you don't exist."

Who is your favorite family member?
I don't play favorites. Alright, I do. Probably my nephew.

When was the last time you cried?
Last night! I was cleaning the kitchen and listening to my iPod. Oh man, for some reason, Iron&Wine's "Dead Man's Will," with Calexico, can make me cry. I always lose it at the line "Give this string to my mother/it pulled the baby teeth she keeps inside the drawer." Then I also always cry when I hear the Eel's version of Daniel Johnston's "Living Life," you know, at the part, "Hold me like a mother would/like I've always known that somebody should/although tomorrow, it don't look so good." I know it seems really strange, but I can imagine dancing with Steve to this song at our wedding, if ever that happened. STEVE.

How many people have broken your heart?
Gah. A few.

Do you trust people easily?
Hmm. I would say no.

Do you think you'll be married in 10 years?
Don't know. I won't jinx anything. STEVE.

Do you plan on moving out within the next year?
Maybe out of my apartment...that'd be pretty awesome. I mean, I love the indoor/outdoor carpeting, but....oh wait, I hate it.

Where were you at 9pm last Friday night?
Headin' to Steak N' Shake!

What happened at 10:00 am today?
My mom called, saying, "HOLD OFF ON LEAVING FOR THE MUSEUM OF SCIENCE AND INDUSTRY, [Nephew's name] JUST THREW UP IN THE CAR." So now it's 10:54, and I'm waiting to see if this family outing is a "go."

Is your family just a bundle of fun?
See above. Just kidding. Hmm. Immediate family? Sure. Extended family, not so much.

When did you last cry hysterically?
Oh man, it was probably only a week ago, about something stupid like the house not being clean. BUT, if you want to know when I really, really cried because everything was completely out of control, well, that would have been in February, 2006.

Do you laugh at all the wrong times?
Sometimes I do, but I can laugh at the right times, too.

A couple things:

1. Last night in the Target parking lot, we pulled up behind a guy whose license plate read "MOJASM." I immediately began ripping my purse apart to find my camera, until Steve wisely pointed out that a guy that has a MOJASM vanity plate probably isn't the sort of guy you want to possibly catch you taking a picture of their car. Wise man, Steve is.

2. I ordered some stuff online from Old Navy a few days ago, pretty much ONLY because I have a shopping problem and it's been slow at work. Anyways, very minimal damage was done because Old Navy was having RIDICULOUS sales, and the package came in the mail today. Although, when I opened it up, my two sweaters were there, but the cute little shoes that were supposed to be in there weren't. No, instead, there was a pair of KID'S BLACK COTTON SHORTS. What? I didn't just get the wrong shoe, I got the wrong PRODUCT. Anywho, I called Customer Service, they fixed it right away and my shoes are headed here, and they even gave me a 10% discount coupon. The representative asked me if I wanted to use the 10% on getting something else right then, or save it. I told her SAVE IT, because between this situation and having to haggle for WEEKS with the post office to surrender my Christmas gift from my boss to me, I am DONE with ordering shit on the Intarwebs for a while. And by a while, I mean until probably this weekend, because I reallyreallyreally need that GorillaPod.

3. A chick at work sent this YouTube video of the 16-year old Cajun music wunderkind Hunter Hayes performing with Hank Williams, Jr. about 10 years ago. Sadly, though, I have to say that instead of being all, "Wow, that little kid plays a mean accordian," I instead spent most of the time watching and admiring Hank Jr.'s sweet cowboy boots. I guess once the cowboy-boot fever gets a hold of you, you never go back.



I'm more out than Seacrest.

Killing me softly with cuteness.

Have you seen this?

Turtle Tricks!

Oh.
My.
God.

Can I put "turtle" on my Amazon Wish List?

Pshaw.

So did any of you watch the Golden Globes winners announcement? How completely lame. The only thing that was remotely interesting and humorous was watching Billy Bush's face right after he'd tell a joke or make a witty quip that wasn't remotely funny, nor witty. This look of dread would come over his face, like he had just then realized that he was on live television, and that, oh my God, there were no writers to make him even remotely funny.

Also, this stupid format went by so fast that we only caught about half of the winners they announced, so we had to immediately load the list of winners on the old compooper after the show ended.



Basically, we just wanted to make double-sure that Daniel Day-Lewis won Best Actor in a Drama for "There Will Be Blood." Sorry, Johhny, but your Sweeney Todd is going to get completely SMOKED by DDL's Daniel Plainview, once we get real and lump "comedies and musicals" back together with everything else, come Oscar time.

****

This afternoon, when I came in from walking the dogs, I noticed that I had run out of the usual after-pooping reward of baby carrots, so I had to switch it up on my pooches, and give them a Saltine each.

I know it sounds like I'm the worst dog parent EVER, but I can't give my dogs regular dog treats because their weight needs to be constantly, obsessively monitored. The slightest weight gain, and I get balled out by their vet, because weight gain in dachshunds can lead to back problems. Back problems could then lead to them possibly slipping a disc, and in the worst-case scenario, they will lose the feeling in their back legs completely.

Anyways, back to the Saltines. Moj and Mox took the Saltines so excitedly. And while I was watching this completely unabashed excitement, I tacked that moment on to my list of 3,587,944 Reasons Why Being A Dog Is Better Than Being A Human. They were soooo excited about Saltines, man. That is some hardcore Quality of Life right there.

Scooby Dooby Doo, where are you....

I haven't been here much lately, I mean, other than to plead with you to buy some shit off me, but that's because I've gotten involved in this little Flickr project that I challenged myself to:

366 Days.

It's only Day 5, and I'm totally tired of myself. I'm also pretty tired of my Leno Chin mocking me in all of these self-portraits. Jesus, I had to inherit the pointy chin from the family gene pool, huh? I guess the big boobs were already taken.

Hey, want to buy some stuff?

I've been sort of in a financial disaster for, oh, I don't know, MY WHOLE LIFE. Probably because I buy alot of stuff. Specifically, I buy alot of purses. This madness cannot go on.

SO! I'm selling some stuff on eBay. You should buy something! It's awesome just to sell stuff, it's 100 times more awesome to sell stuff to people you actually like.

Pick your poison:

How about a 1154 Lill ANDI tote that I designed myself? You can read about their awesome store here.

Perhaps a Coach Lunch Tote?

Or do you know a teenager who would like a really cute little red Coach bag? Teenage girls are really into designer crap. I've been told.

No pressure or anything.
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.
.
.
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.
.
Have you bought anything yet?

Ha!