Odds and Ends

If you haven't seen it last weeks episode of American Horror Story was pretty fantastic, in my opinion. My favorite part was the ending, and not in my usual, sarcastic, 'thank god that's over' way. I was sincerely moved by the ending. You feel Violet's pain when she makes Tate go away and then she's crying and there's no music so it's all you hear and they do that slow-camera-spinny-thing and I was waiting for Vivien to show up and the way she did was terrific. Just her hand on Violet's shoulder while she's crying and then you see them and the look on her face speaks volumes. You see at once her love and pride for her daughter as well as her hatred and disgust at being trapped in the house forever.

I cried. Not gonna lie. Got all teared up and sniffly.

Waiting on a few packages to arrive to be all finished with presents. Everything is bought and wrapped but those few damn things the mail is taking forever to get to me. The one item for Jeremy I bought this past week, got order confirmation, received it Friday, and Saturday got the email that it had shipped. Which was a little backwards, but I got it a lot sooner than I expected to, so that was nice. It's going to be so awesome. I can't wait for him to open it. He's going to love it.

I believe I mentioned that we weren't putting up a tree this year. Instead, I put some ornaments on the wall and strung lights around them in what I had intended to be a star shape. It looks super demented though so I won't be taking pictures of that. It's festive, in what I imagine is the way Renfield would decorate after dining on splys (spider stuffed flys).

I can think of two people off the top of my head who will get that reference.

Unrelated, I'm scheduled overnight Friday till 3:45 am. Our family celebration is Saturday. This seems like an awesome effort on my manager's part to give me Christmas Eve off which I mentioned I would like, but as a retail employee am not allowed to request off, because it's the holidays. I appreciate her efforts. On the other hand, unlike my brother who works till 8-ish Saturday morning, I have time to go home and sleep before festivities begin. Which is almost worse than not being able to, because I can get like four hours before I have to get up and start getting ready. Four hours seems like a lot if you're an insomniac, but after an 8 hour shift during the time of night when you're used to sleeping, four hours actually just feels like a light nap. So I'll likely be pissy and bitchy Saturday. Merry Christmas family!

Honestly, I can find anything to complain about. I am just never satisfied.

This One's For My Homies

My sister-in-law sent me a text today, one among many bitching about my brother and Christmas gifts. Amidst these angry texts I also received a suggestion to write a blog about one of her recent Facebook statuses and how no one really commented on it and they should have.

So I read it:

Awkward Christmas song lyrics, Under My Tree by 'N Sync:
No one else but me and you
Nothing I would rather do
Then make all your dreams come true
Under my tree
Such a cozy rendez-vous
Just relax enjoy the view
I'll show you how could it could be.
I wish that Santa could be here to see
It's beautiful, beautiful, beautiful under my tree

Now, when I first copied these lyrics over yonder, I had already told Jeremy she had this status. So I get them here, and I'm like, 'Alright here are the Awkward Christmas lyrics.' And I read them aloud. Our conversation went as follows:

Me: (after the lyrics) So that's it.
Jeremy: ...I think it's about the chick licking his balls.
Me: What?
Jeremy: Read it again, that's what it's about.
:I read it again:
Me: Are you saying the tree is-
Jeremy: The tree is his dick.

This made me think of Dick-in-a-Box. I don't know that I agree with this assessment, but it did make me laugh. Merry Christmas... ladies.

Other things that made me laugh: myself. Just now. We were talking about T-shirts and this one shirt he bought me, it's a picture of a dandy looking cup of tea with a cane and monocle, rocking some spats, and running like a spazz behind him is a freaked out cup o' Joe, with crazy eyes. It says, 'Tea, the gentleman's coffee.' Get it, guys? It's my T-shirt. My, t shirt. Tea shirt. It made me CTO.

That's a new thing. I'm starting a new LOL, it's CTO. Chortling To Oneself, or Chortled To Oneself. It'll catch on.

I make myself laugh all the time. (That's actually a line from my sister-in-law. She had it in her About Me on Myspace, back in the day. When I read it, I CTO. CTO'd? This is going to be a tough one to move into the vernacular.)

In unrelated news, I made Jeremy watch The Godfather Saturday night and I live-tweeted his comments. There weren't many, but they amused me. Lots of things amuse me. I would link to it, but it's Twitter. You'll never find it. ... I probably should've put it on my Tumblr now that I think about. Or even hear. I could transpose, I suppose. Apropos of nothing... see what I did there?

I'm done now.

I Couldn't Sleep

Early this morning while trying to sleep (I got home at 4, for a change.) I was thinking about my wedding dress and how I originally thought that because of how informal it was I would be able to wear it anywhere afterwards. Then I realized that if I wear it anywhere with my family I'll have to hear stupid jokes about wearing my wedding dress out and blah blah blah. Except it won't be limited to my family. His family will do it too. :sigh: Such are the problems of coming from a sarcastic family and marrying into another one.

I also remembered that I totally wore white to a wedding once, completely by accident. I actually only realized last night (this morning) when I was thinking about my other white (ish) dress. It has flowers and stuff on it and it might be an off-white, but still... nobody called me on it either. There was no mention of it from anyone. I wonder if anybody even noticed... I've always been curious about that. Shouldn't everyone be looking at the bride anyway? Nobody should even know if a guest is wearing white, unless that guest takes a picture with either the bride or groom. In which case, just Photoshop her dress a different color.

Coming Soon: out of context texts from my husband.

Because I think he's funny and everyone has to suffer my terrible sense of humor.

He's a Doctor, I Should Trust Him, Right?

OR Freaking Out Because of Non-Existent Realities and Also Because I'm a Paranoid Hypochondriac With a Way Overactive Imagination.

So we saw 50/50 last night. Really good movie. I cried a few times. It also made me really nervous about the whole breast-cancer-not-breast-cancer-thing. (I'm not still awake at 3 in the morning because of it though, that's just my sleep schedule for the past month and half.) I have to go back in about 4 weeks for another ultrasound to see if the "totally benign" lymph node is still there. The doctor said if it was then he would want to remove it, and I agree with that decision. Because nobody wants inflamed things just hanging out in their boob. Remove that.

But I started wondering if maybe it isn't actually benign. He didn't do a biopsy because he assumed it wasn't a big deal. I had no other indicators of breast cancer, nothing was misshapen, there was no discoloration, no discharge, no family history- I'm going to stop there for a minute.

When I first told mom that I had this appointment scheduled, which also included what we were looking for, she neglected to mention to me that our family does have a very brief (read vague) history with breast cancer/boob related things. Apparently a great aunt on her side had a mastectomy, one of her sisters had an issue with a fatty cyst, and she had one other example for me that I honestly was tuning out on because she told me this after my appointment. Which is also after I told the nurse, the doctor, and even the paperwork that I did not have any family history with these things. So I kinda panicked and called the office, but they were like, it's cool we'll see what's going on when you see the doctor in January.

Back to the paragraph before this. If it's still there in January I don't know if he'll want to do a biopsy first or just remove it. He said he would want to take it out, but he didn't say anything about checking out what it might be first. I've had a biopsy before, it was incredibly painful and I vomited pretty much the entire next day from the searing pain. (It was in the mysterious lady area, and that's a story for a different time. Or never at all.) So I have no idea what a biopsy is like with external maladies. At this stage I'm only concerned and curious.

Then of course I just fucking snowballed from there to it actually being cancer and needing to go through chemotherapy and what it would do to my body and if I would ever be able to have children and I nearly lost it sitting in the movie theatre. It was an emotional scene, but I honestly don't remember it because for some reason I conjured up this eternally fucked up story in my head: what if I found out I was pregnant, and that I also had breast cancer?

Yeah.

I did that to myself. While watching a heart warming comedy with my husband. I imagined a horrifying future for the two of us where I die young and childless.

You should never tell a hypochondriac there is even a 1% chance that the lump in her breast is cancerous. Lie to me, Doc. Seriously, just lie.

Also, when my lady-parts doctor found the lump he said, "It's probably nothing to worry about. How old are you?" I said 23. He said, "Oh definitely nothing to worry about. You're young."

So, I can't have breast cancer because I'm young, according to my doctor. I assume, had I asked, he would have told me the other girls don't like me cause they're jealous of how pretty I am.

Conversations with My Husband...

... while waiting to see if I have breast cancer.

(It's cool, I'm fine. Doctor says it's just an inflamed-lymph-node-lump, and not a terrifying we'll-have-to-take-the-breast lump.)

*in the waiting room, forever*
Jeremy: What time was the appointment?
Me: 11:15
Jeremy: And what time is it now?
Me: Later than 11:15
(by like, over an hour)


*finally in a room*
Nurse: We only have one ultrasound machine and it's in the other room so it'll be just another few minutes. (leaves)
Jeremy: Another few minutes? I don't know how time works in here but in the real world, that wait was longer than a few minutes. By about, seventy-five.
Me: There's a diagram of your intestines in here.
Jeremy: ...Man, that's a lot of diseases. That's one effed up person.
Me: I don't think it's an actual image.
Jeremy: It is.
Me: Are you sure?
Jeremy: Yes. And that person needs help. We should find him.

*later, still in the first room*
Me: I can't remember the actor who played Spengler.
Jeremy: Harold Ramis.
Me: Harold Ramis, thank you.

*in the ultrasound room*
Me: (after putting on the gown, backwards like a vest, as per the nurse's instructions) This could be a good look for me.
Jeremy: Yeah especially with your clunky winter boots.
Me: It's the winter version.

Trimming the Tree and Some Dress Sizes

Before the wedding Jeremy and I were both committed to losing weight. We set a goal, and we both reached it before we left for our honeymoon. Yay us!

Then we gained back like, 15 pounds each. Because while we walked everywhere, seriously we walked almost everywhere, we also ate whatever we wanted and... walked everywhere. Walking is not the slimming exercise everyone would have you believe. You tone, true, but you also build muscle which can read as weight gain. Which is fine if you're a dude, but if you're a girl trying to slim down building muscle sucks.

I'm not happy with the wedding pictures or reception pictures because I have this weird pouch thing happening. I guess bloating would be a better term, cause it's higher up than a pouch would be. I'm not a kangaroo or anything, but I feel like I could have looked slimmer. And that's entirely my fault. (Also, everyone who didn't tell me and/or buy me Spanx.) The last holiday picture of Jeremy and I, we both look gross. We saw it and immediately made sounds of disgust at our own images. So we're trying to slim down, together. Again. Maybe this time we'll stay fit until we have kids.

That's my ultimate goal. I want to be about 20-30 pounds lighter when we get pregnant, this way I can gain some healthy baby weight and then make Jeremy stay home with the kid after it's born and I can hang out at the gym 2-4-7. Also, I told Jeremy he's not allowed to gain sympathy weight. That's crap.

Realistically, I just want to fit into the bridesmaids dress I wore for my brother's wedding. That would be B.A. I'm concerned it'll have to wait until after the holidays, only because no one seems to know how to make healthy dishes at this time of year. 'How much does this recipe call for? All the butter in the world? That seems fine.' But if I have no willpower to say no to one more cookie, there doesn't seem to be much hope for the rest of the year, does there? That just won't do. Eff you holiday baking. No means no!

So this holiday, since we're both trying to lose weight, we're committed to keeping each other committed. He's my support, and I'm his. Seriously, it was in the vows: 'I promise to tell you you're pretty when you think you're hideous and compliment your slim and at the same time womanly curves because I know how much it means to you to be fit but still feminine and healthy.'

I wrote them myself.


In related news, (read the title, it's related) we aren't putting up the tree this year. For starters, I hate artificial trees. They creep me out. Also, ours is stored in the basement all year and I don't like to think of the spiders and whatnot we're bringing up into the apartment when we let that tree back in. So instead I'm going to build a tree out of ornaments. It's going to be terrific and sparkly, just like Christmas. With lights and garland and it'll hang from the ceiling so there's no chance the dog will knock things off with her insane tail. Oh! I have to buy Christmas cards... I just remembered that. There's no relation here except that I'm on the Christmas subject.

Also unrelated, it's 3:14 in the afternoon and I still haven't showered. This overnight thing is really messing my schedule.

The Giving of Gifts

I've found that one of the hardest things at the holidays is finding the right gift. As I get older my list of people I have to shop for gets longer and longer, which is frustrating because I'm not made of money people. I don't have money trees growing in my backyard, or anywhere in my yard for that matter. If I did, I would just give money. Do you see me giving money? No, you do not. Because I have no money trees. ...Since money is part cloth, would it still grow on a tree? Just like, a cloth tree, right? That kinda makes sense.

Really though, this list thing is becoming an issue. Sometimes, at various points throughout the year, I'll be perusing the internet and come across a gift that I think would be great for someone and then I'll remember that I didn't buy them a gift last year because I didn't think we were that close and if I buy them a gift this year then I'm saying that we are that close and what if they didn't feel the same way and they haven't bought me a gift but now they feel obligated and we have to buy each other gifts next year out of an obligation and not because we like each other. Or worse, they don't buy me a gift and I just feel like a loser giving gifts away without provocation because I don't know what kind of relationship we have.

See how that got out of control so quickly?

I go through this all the time.

Even with people I know I have to buy for, siblings, parents, significant other; it still get complicated. Sometimes I spend months trying to find the perfect gift, the one that makes the receiver think "she really gets me and knows who I am as a person, she pays attention when I talk." But I never find it. And then I'm scrambling at the last minute to come up with something and it ends up being crap. It's like I remember the one thing they used to be really into and I have two days before the gift-giving and I am running out of options damn it! So enjoy your one millionth copy of The Complete Collection of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle brother, because it's not like I bought you the other nine hundred ninety nine thousand nine hundred and ninety nine copies.

Are those numbers accurate? I have no idea. I don't do numbers. Which never seems to stop me from making number jokes. (Why was six afraid of seven?)

I've found this trend happening lately where I find a gift for someone and make a mental note to go back to it closer to the holidays, because if I buy when I see it, then I'll forget that it's in the house and that person will end up with a dozen gifts to the two that I got everyone else. So I remember it, or bookmark it, whatever. Then November comes around and I start seriously thinking about gifts. Because I tend to shop online I like to get those gifts in as soon as I can so I'm not sitting there like a asshole on Christmas morning handing out IOU's cause I was too cheap to pay for 2-day shipping. And then I see it: this whole time I've been thinking, 'oh she'd love that! this would be perfect! she'll probably cry when she opens this.' Those thoughts are for different gifts. All for the same person. So I've compiled a list. Terrific. Of nearly a dozen items. For one person.

I haven't bought them though. Which is better, somehow. But now I have to narrow down the items and then I come back into the territory of, 'what is this gift saying about how I view our relationship?' This one item is $XX, but I know she'll really love it. On the other hand these two items are even cheaper than that one item and I know she's kind of into this thing. Do I go expensive and get the gift I know the person will really love and hope that they also went the same route, or do I go relatively cheaper and get the gift I know they'll put on a good face for but wish they had gotten something a little more personal?

I think the biggest problem I face isn't a monetary value, or how many people I keep having to buy for. It's that I never know how they're going to shop, so I don't know how I'm supposed to shop. Maybe this is why people put price limits on gift giving.

Is it cool to do that with family?

Dear Glee, You Make Me Sad

Show I don't think I can bring myself to watch again: Glee

It started with simple things; this season has been fraught with story lines that I do not care about at all (for starters), so I've mostly been tuning in for performances. Then, performances started getting lazy. There is no excuse for resting on your laurels, and I will lose my shit if I see Rachel Berry make another anguished face regardless of what she's singing about. But when performances got stale, the Puck/Original Elpheba storyline got kind of cute. Then she slept with him and I was like, well I could've done without that. You're a grown woman and I don't care if he is 18. You have a child to provide for and how are you supposed to do that when you lose your job for having an affair with a student. Tsk.

I will say, I've enjoyed the Brittany centric episodes. She's kind of a dingbat, but she's completely comfortable with who she is, and I love her singing voice. Other characters I wish they had given more screen time to: Mike Chang, Coach Beiste, and in particular Santana. And that's what I really want to talk about.

Her coming out episode, was awful.

I said it.

The entire episode is about other people telling her why she should come out, more importantly that she needs to, because it will make them feel better. They sing songs originally written and performed by women as if that's what finally makes a closeted homosexual realize that all of their fears and worries are ridiculous and everyone they know and love and admire will continue to see them the exact same way regardless of the secret they've finally found the strength to disclose. And maybe some have been moved by music, I don't doubt that for a second. But to be told that you have to come out? You are forcing a person out of the closet. You have staged an intervention. And while it might work for a drug addict to see how they're hurting the people they love, a homosexual is afraid that by being honest about who they are with the ones they love that it will drive them away, not heal the pain. The people "trying to help" are being selfish. They aren't doing this for her benefit. They're doing it for themselves. The entire episode is absurd.

And, to make it even more asinine and misogynistic, when Santana finally does come out to everyone, she sings Katy Perry's 'I Kissed a Girl.' Which isn't actually even about liking girls. It's about liking girls because it turns your boyfriend on.


Shame on you Glee. You have an audience that needs to know it's okay to come to things on your own terms. In your own time. In your own way. You need to hold yourself to a higher standard, or get off the air.


For more reference on Glee and their terrible handling of this story line and proof that I'm not alone on this (and for more feminist rants) see this enlightening article over at fempop. This woman knows what's up.

Home For the Holidays

Since we're coming up on the holidays I've been thinking a lot about family and how you show one another that you care. Growing up our family only saw our extended relatives, aunts cousins grandparents etc., at gatherings before Christmas Day itself. We would get together at my dad's parents early in the month, or sometimes we would actually wait until after Christmas to see my mom's side but we never did anything on the day itself. I remember a few times when we had family over for Thanksgiving but that didn't last long, for whatever reason. My main point here is that Thanksgiving Day and Christmas Day were always the days where we just hung out at home as a family and didn't go anywhere or do anything. We called family or friends but we never had anywhere to be or anyone to dress up for. We had a semi-traditional meal on Thanksgiving, but I don't honestly remember if we always ate at the table and for Christmas dad would cut up a ham but we never had an actual meal planned. We would just sit around and veg all day. And I loved that.

Being in a relationship has seriously thrown a kink in that plan. Our first Christmas together I hated the idea that I had to leave the apartment. I was fine with going to my parents house but I would have rather waited a day to go to his parents because I just don't like that on a day when I've been practically trained to be lazy I have to be presentable and punctual. The first Thanksgiving was rough. There was no way I was ready to eat two meals like that in one day. But us going on four years together now (I think?) I'm used to the rushed scheduling.

Last year my parents decided to have Christmas on Christmas Eve. It worked out fantastically. We hung out, got a little drunk, took a nap, rallied, got a little drunk again, and laughed at presents. Then we went home and slept and the next day we went to his parents house. Perfect. For some reason, both years we had to do Thanksgiving on the day itself with his parents. Which I get works for everyone else because they have office jobs where Thanksgiving is a holiday where they don't make money. But I work in retail and we do make money on that day, and the day after. And I have to be there super early when we open. Why is it inconsiderate of me to say, hey sorry in-laws I can't make it because I came home from work at 2:45 this morning and I go back in at 8 tonight for 13 hours and I'd like to sleep a lot because I'll need the energy? But Jeremy brings my love. I like to assume that they would they understand.

So I decided that when we have kids, we're not doing anything for the holidays. We'll see family before or after but on the days itself, I don't want to leave the house. I see no reason to. Getting together on major holidays and birthdays does not make you a family, and taking pictures at that time doesn't show others that you're a family. Keeping in touch throughout the year, calling, texting, hanging out with no motives (like needing to ask your parents for money) or pretext, these things keep you close. Having a few days out of the year to catch up on each others lives seems like cheating at being family. Maybe I'm biased because of my upbringing but getting together to exchange gifts and have a good time doesn't automatically mean it's Christmas to me. It just means that this time everyone brought gifts.

Crap, I still haven't put up my tree!

More Things Going Wrong in Our Apartment

Our stove, for starters. It apparently only heats to 300 now, and at that it takes almost an hour for it to heat up. We finally got the drainage problem all fixed and now the stove is going to hell. That's not that big of a deal. It's probably just some internal crap and we'll end up with a new stove. Cool, whatever. But there's also the issue of our shower.

The cold water handle broke off today. So before when we had no hot water, and only cold, we now have no cold water and only hot. Which I suppose is better. I can take shorter showers and still be more clean than if I took longer ones. Because I'm basically boiling myself in there now. It's awesome, let me tell you.

So the new plan now (the previous one where we just toughed it out for a few more years until our student loan debt was a little more under way is completely ridiculous) is find a For Sale by Owner and get the fuck out. Like, now.

Being Lazy After a 13-hour Shift

A belated Happy Turkey Day to anyone who celebrated and didn't make a comment about the pilgrims raping the Indians of their land and property. We get it, it's a terrible holiday. Most of them are. Shut up now. (And stop making Zombie Jesus jokes at Easter. You're boring.)

So I got home from work this morning at sometime-between-8-and-9-am and as soon as I got to the living room and made sure the apartment door was shut, I immediately took off all my clothes. Ya know how normally I take off my pants? This morning I just stripped down and went straight into the bathroom to shower. There was no possible way I could go to bed feeling that gross and dirty.

I managed to sleep in some Thursday morning before the required visit to the in-laws but it was only till about 12:30. And I didn't get to nap at all. We went from his parents house to him dropping me off at work. I wasn't up a full 24 hours, thank Christ, but I was still exhausted. There seemed to be a miscommunication with my schedule, as usual, and as a result I had three very different schedules: the one emailed to me, the one on the calender in administration, and the individual one in the system. Two of them said I was scheduled to 7 am, one said 9 am, one said I should have been working 5pm-4:45am M-W. It was all a mess. But we slowed down, and the District Manager said I was doing a good job in replenishment so my manager let me go an hour early. Bless her heart.

I woke up at 2:55 this afternoon. It was awesome. Made no plans for the day except to see a movie with my brother and sister-in-law while they're in town so we can hang out a little before the belated holiday celebrations with our family tomorrow. So it should turn out to be a nice lazy night.

Conversations with My Husband

(Jeremy comes in at the end of Gossip Girl)

Jeremy: Who's that? She looks familiar.

Me: Blake Lively.

(Blank look on his face.)

Me: That name means nothing to you. Oh! Green Lantern.

Jeremy: (scoffs) Storm... that is not Ryan Reynolds.

Ho Ho Ho... Santa Snowman!

We're close enough to Thanksgiving that I feel comfortable putting out Christmas candy, and drinking out of my Christmas mug. Even if we weren't I would still do those things cause I woke up this afternoon, after getting home from work at about 4:50 this morning and sleeping for a while, with an obscene headache. It sincerely felt like my brain was crawling out of my face, or at least trying to.

I know I use this metaphor a lot, but it feels accurate and I need people to understand that when my sinuses act up, they also have a tendency to put me out of commission for hours. It's kind of how my mum described migraines, which I've never had the misfortune of dealing with. Not all the symptoms, just the mildly incapacitating parts. I never have light and/or sound sensitivity or nausea, but I do feel that if I move any part of my body my head will explode. Sometimes, it actually lessens the pain if I take my glasses off. I've had to ice my jaw on occasion because my sinuses are so swollen, and sometimes I can't chew so I have to be on a liquid diet until the weather decides to break or my sinuses kill me.

To make myself feel less invalid like I wrap up in a big comfy blanket on the couch and watch TV, whilst occasionally venturing out into the kitchen for more food-that-makes-me-fat. So instead of invalid, I go for fat lazy bitch chilling at home eating bon-bons. Which I guess is a ... trade... of some kind.

Anyway, I wanted to mention the Christmas mug cause it's the one my sister-in-law (the one responsible for the title of this blog post) and my brother gave me for Christmas two years ago. With a big ole basket of teas. I hardly ever use the mug though cause it's all winter-y but since I'm not feeling peachy keen today, and it is almost Thanksgiving (which is the time of year I can start decorating for Christmas and using Christmas things) I figured today was the perfect day for the Moose, Bear, Log Cabin Mug. And it's enormous. Half my coffee pot fits in there. Hang on, I'll try that again: I heat my water in my coffee pot, cause my kettle broke and I still haven't replaced it, and this mug took almost 6 cups to fill up. Well, more like 4 now that I look again but still, that's a big mug for tea drinking. And tea drinking, I am doing.

High Anxiety

Last night at work, I was climbing like a 15' ladder and I was right next to some light fixtures (that I personally have always thought were too low) whilst hanging some clothes on an end panel and while up there I glanced over my shoulder for some reason, and I actually got light headed (and almost had a panic attack) cause I felt like I was falling backwards.

I don't have a fear of heights, vertigo, and I'm not normally prone to panic attacks or anxiety. So I'm going to chalk it up to it being so damn hot in that store to being with, and having 90 watt light bulbs literally inches from me.

The rest of my evening was spent wondering how inappropriate it would be to wear a two-piece to work, trying to stay away of from the damn lights, and sweating like a man. Oh, and organizing boots. Always with the boots. Once October rolls around the boots start pouring in. And they keep coming until March, when we start getting flip flops instead. It makes me hate footwear.

- Working there kinda makes me hate all things all things related to clothing and covering the body. When I get home from work, I take off my shoes first, and I almost always follow that with taking off my pants. And sometimes my shirt. And socks. Occasionally I'll put on a robe, but most often I desperately need to shower and take a nap, cause it's like working out but for 5-9 hours straight. Just climbing, and bending, and lifting, and sweating. And I'm supposed to look decent while doing this so I'm wearing nice clothes, or jeans and a button up, or khakis. We're not even supposed to wear shoes with a rubber sole, but I say eff that and wear my sneakers anyway. So when I get out of there, my clothes are covered in sweat and I hate everything that I'm wearing and I never want to wear it again so when I get home of course my first reaction is to take off all my clothes. I can't tell if it's worse or better in the cold months, cause when I leave work at least it's a little refreshing to walk out into cool air and not a 90+ scorcher. All I know is I wish I could work from home. This way when I work out, I only have to do an hour of it and I can wear whatever clothes I want. Instead of doing squats in jeans. -

Ladies, Stop Throwing Your Unbroken Hymen Around Like It's No Thing

So the episode of Gossip Girl I'm watching right now has Jennie about to lose her V-card. She's 16, he's an adult and a drug dealer, and everyone's telling her to wait and think it over, be sure, yada yada. And she is dead set on just giving it away. Then, when they're in bed, she finally tells him she's a virgin, and he says it's no big deal.

I'm sorry, no big deal? No big deal? Why do people have that response? In what free-love world are you living in where having sex for the first time is just a thing to check off a list?

• Do laundry
• Wash hair
• Grab lunch with friends
• Lose virginity
• Do laundry... again

So Jennie hears this, and for once this chick who is constantly making the stupidest decisions I have ever seen a teenage girl make, real or imagined, says the same thing I said a moment before she did: Actually, it is a big deal.

Of course, she lied and told Serena she had sex anyway but that's her self-esteem issues to work out, and no amount of my yelling at the TV is going to change the fact that she absolutely should have told her step-sister she was mature enough to not have dismissive sex with someone who doesn't care about her and that she needed a shoulder to cry on. Because lying about doing that is almost as bad as doing it. Shame on you, CW writers. You are setting terrible examples for young girls the world over.

Which reminds me, Elena on The Vampire Diaries doesn't want to be a vampire. After the disastrous Early Evening Sparkly thing (you know) it's refreshing to see a girl in love with a vampire that doesn't want to be with him for all eternity. Just until she dies. Which is still a little... ya know. Something.

Things I Do When I Should Be Writing... Or Having a Life

So when I find something I like, I get hooked on it. If it's a TV show, I watch all the old seasons until I'm totally caught up and then wait impatiently for new episodes. (My newest obsessions are Supernatural and The Vampire Diaries, both CW shows. Almost like they make good shows?) If it's an author, I have to read everything they've ever written. I decide I love dresses, so I spend literally hours perusing the internet and bookmarking sites like I'll actually purchase these dresses at some point.

Which is crazy because some of them are like, $50 or more. I sincerely cannot imagine spending $75 on a dress that isn't even for a wedding or something. But I want to. Cause they look so pretty and then I fantasize about wearing them out places and people complimenting me on my lovely dress and shoes... That sounds super sad.

Anyway right now, my current kick is nail polish. I have an entire wishlist dedicated to nail polish. It's called Make-Up but it's really just nail polish. Like, over 60 bottles of it. I want them all. Nail polish though, unlike the super expensive dresses, I'll actually use. I love nail polish. I don't really wear make-up, it's a personal choice (also cause my face is super sensitive and freaks out with most products) but I do love painting my nails. So head's up family and friends wanting to buy me presents: go to Amazon and search for my wishlist under my sbc email.

Drunken Conversations with My Husband

('You Make My Dreams Come True' by Hall and Oates comes on the radio)

Me: Oh I love this song!

Jeremy: (after a moment) Whenever I hear this song, I always think of the Ducktales theme song.

Me: No! I do too! I am so glad I married you! Cause I have always thought that, and you do too, and we have so many things in common.

Jeremy: Yeah I love you too. (under his breath, I'm sure) Crazy drunk.

Feral the Cat

My brother's new cat.

A Day Late, But Not a Dollar Short

I completely missed 11.11.11. I mean, I was around for it, I didn't like sleep straight through 24 hours. But it didn't really register to me. I even told Jeremy about it before he went to work. And it was all over Facebook, but I mean really, what are you supposed to do? It was Veteran's Day as well, which seemed more important to me but all I saw on Facebook was people talking about it being Nigel Tufnell day. That's great, I get the joke guys. Maybe they just don't know of any veteran's that they think a fictional character is more relevant. Maybe that's just where we've come to as a society. I'm constantly telling Jeremy I can't stand today's youth, this is one of many, many reasons. (Today's youth. I'm 23, am I still part of that youth? God I hope not. They're dreadful little assholes who can't drive and have no sense of self-worth or the world around them.) The date did finally register to me though when I was signing off on last night's projects at work and I had to write the date. Normally most people write it as the day the month the year, but I write it as the month the day the year, unless I'm specifically asked to do otherwise. But last night I was like, I can write it any way I want, cause it's going to read correctly in any country! Assuming those countries use numbers instead of characters. Do other countries, like China or Iraq, use characters instead of numbers? I have no idea about these things.

So that's it. Oh, and I'm finally going to my brother's new place tonight. We were supposed to go last weekend but he cancelled cause he had to work... I'm sure. But we're definitely going tonight. And I get to see their new cat, it's called Feral and she was a rescue who cost a lot of money to spay. Damn animals. If I ever get a new cable for my camera I'll post a picture.

Memoriiieeesss...

There's a dude here fixing the kitchen sink. I threatened to call a plumber and send my landlord the bill, so he finally decided to call me back and tell me that he was sending his own plumber. Which is good, cause the last time he tried to fix something himself we ended up with the sink that never drains. The plumber looked under the sink and he said, 'Boy Jimmy really Mickey Moused this.' Jimmy is our landlord. And the plumber made fun of his plumbing skills. I laughed. Then he started telling me about when he was here on 9/11 and he was watching the footage on the TV, whoever was living here at the time had some plumbing problems and he went on for a bit. Then he couldn't remember where his channel locks were. They were in his back pocket. So he remembers being here over ten years and what problem the people were having and where the TV was, but he didn't remember that he put his channel locks in his back pocket. Memory is funny that way. For example, I don't remember what was going on exactly when mom told us that grandma died but I know it was late at night and she had to wake me up and about a week later my brother was upset and crying and mom asked if he could sleep with me and I said no. And I still feel horrible about it. I remember things like that all the time. Literally all the time. I always remember when I do things that I regret, or that were stupid, or when I lied. I remember it vividly. It's like an intense guilty conscience that plagues me with a laundry list of events reminding me that I should've acted differently because it would've taken a moments thought to just keep my mouth shut and not make a crass joke about church. (That's a stupid story: Jeremy's friends girlfriend couldn't make it out to dinner cause she had choir practice and I made some comment about church and his friend says, she loves to sing, and I said, so do I but I won't go to church for it. Seriously. I had to say that? One of the many reasons that friend considered me disrespectful and probably still doesn't like me.)

The point of this is that there's this show called 'Unforgettable' which I've never watched. It's about this chick who has a super autobiographical memory, which means she can remember every event that ever took place in her entire life with perfect clarity. She can probably even remember being in the womb. (Jeremy made that joke about me when I was telling him about Scooter's kindergarten graduation and the swing set I was playing on when we passed the spot in the park where it was held. Scotty's four years older than me. So I was like, 1 at the time.) And I was thinking, there's only a handful of people in the entire world with this ability.

Guys, what if I'm one of them?

Me, Marilu Henner, and a couple other people whose names weren't mentioned in that article that I read. But then there was this test and it had a bunch of dates on it and the dates meant nothing to me because they were in 1989 and I was born in 1988 so even if my tiny not even first birthday celebrated self was watching the news then, (I wasn't. I don't even watch it now.) those events were not relevant to me. But the test says to remember what happened to you on those dates. January 30th, 1983: I continued to be a twinkle in my mother's eye. Five years and 37 days later I would be born. I don't remember much about that day. Nancy Kerrigan was clubbed on the right knee on what date? I have no interest in what date that was. (It was January 6th 1994. But I was in kindergarten at the time so I'm sure I was more concerned with having to stay after lunch with the other losers cause my mom didn't love me enough to only have me go half days. On the other hand that was awesome cause we got to do fun stuff like make shark tooth collages with "real" sharks teeth and neon paint. I chose pink cause it was the brightest. In your face half day kids.)

So I'm probably not one of the half a dozen people in the world with a super memory. But I do still have a pretty great memory. And I fear the day that it starts to go. I seriously fear it. It keeps me awake some nights and I start to think that I should be keeping much detail about my life. My journals are all like, no one understands me, I wish I were a better writer, I need more money. That's not going to be helpful when I can't remember my own anniversary.

Everybody's Asking Where You Are

I can't believe I forgot that November is also National Novel Writing Month! Can someone honestly start and finish a novel in one month? Or even, in my case, finish one? It's already the 10th. I've come too far in the month. Why bother even trying?

I feel like I've just seen why I have yet to finish a single story, but I'm too lazy to do anything about it. I left work two hours early last night cause I wasn't feeling well and it's carried over to today a little bit. I feel like a huge disappointment at work cause not only did we leave early, we also didn't get the stock transferred in that we've been needing nor did either of us remember to check our bags before we left. So we're on camera just strolling up to the doors, turning the alarm off and then on, and making a quick exit. We could only look more suspicious if we glanced over our shoulders a few times anxiously. I hate feeling this way, the disappointing part not the sick part (although I do hate being sick). I told Jeremy I was worried that they would see this, only day 3, as my being incapable of performing the tasks they've set upon me and seriously rethinking their decision to promote me. He was like, settle down Storm.

I'm currently at the laptop with five browser windows open: Netflix with Gossip Girl queued up (for serious guys, and I have no idea why I keep watching it. I don't even care about them), this blog, my shopping cart on Haus of Gloi, my shopping cart on Bath and Body (they have some sweet sales going on right now), and a Google search for the correct spelling of 'queued.' I'm debating on spending as much money as my carts says I will on bath and body products. I'm also debating on watching another episode of Gossip Girl, where Dan and Serena try to work things out even though I'd much rather see their parents get together cause I honestly think Dan is kind of a jackass. Hey! I do care what happens!

Like a Dark Portent

So I haven't adjusted to my new shifts yet (cause I've only had two) and I forgot to take a nap before I went in yesterday. I didn't think it would be that hard to adjust cause it's a five hour shift but I still wake up early naturally, an hour or so later now having not gone to sleep until the wee hours of the morning. So having been up since about 8 yesterday morning around the second hour of my shift (11:30 PM) I started thinking how great it would be to take a nap in the pile of denim I had been working on.

I didn't.

But I still think it would have been great.

In other news, the kitchen sink that I've been bitching about for a few weeks now that refuses to drain? I didn't use it all yesterday, cause I was going to wait till we bought some drain cleaner before doing the dishes so it wouldn't fill up and take two hours to drain, as is its wont. Last night the neighbor decided to do dishes. And we discovered something fun: there's a massive block of some kind in the plumbing and her water ran down, and then back up, into our sink. It was black, and gurgling, and it smelled like liquid death. So our sink doesn't drain right cause the block is directly beneath us. Her sink drains because it just comes back up into ours. So I get to interact with the landlord again and try to convince him in the nicest way possible that he isn't actually a plumber and that he should call one. Cause this cast-iron plumbing is for crap.

Portal to Christmas

So I guess it's National Blog Post Month, and by the 7th of this month, this is my first post. On the one hand, since we're coming up on Christmas and I work in retail I don't imagine there will be very many more posts until at least December 26th. On the other hand, last year around this time I had plenty of idiot shopper stories to share (I just didn't because I'm a lazy blogger sometimes.) so who knows, maybe this will be a productive 4th quarter. 4th quarter. Look at me with my retail jargon.

While perusing Google trying to learn what NaBloPoMo meant (national blog post month) I found someone's blog describing November as the portal month to Christmas. Which I thought was funny because we started holiday stuff in at work around late September, and just this past week we put up ornament shaped things. As in, Christmas decorations. It made me sad.

For the upcoming season, because of my sweet new promotion, I will now be working overnights. Strictly. Through December. This should be sweet.

I love The Vampire Diaries, and finally be able to watch a new episode, more than three days after it's originally aired, makes me really miss having cable, or a dish, and makes me regret wanting to feel morally superior in some way by not illegally downloading things anymore. It's not even that good of a TV show, and I know this, but I still really like it. I feel like the writers are actually trying for good story lines, sometimes the dialogue is crap, or the acting feels cardboard-y or stale, but the storyline itself is clearly a well thought out concept, and I appreciate that.

On that note, Season of the Witch (with the timely Nicolas Cage) is like the exact opposite. No, if it were exact it would have good acting and dialogue. It does not. Watch it with friends for a good laugh. Cause it feels like a Sci-Fi Original, if you know what I'm saying.

As it turns out, this movie wasn't a Sci-Fi Channel original as I previously thought, but that's where I saw it first and I've measured everything since against it's truly awesome-ness.

Whoo

I got a promotion, and a raise, at work about a week ago. I also found out Cambodia is in Asia. I honestly didn't know. And no one at work knew either. So that was a fun time.
I ordered my costume and got a sweet deal with some coupon codes and it was on sale so that I ended up paying less than the original price even with shipping. Best part of that story: when I tried it on and I thought I looked completely ridiculous and then took a picture and thought I actually looked hot. Like, legit attractive. It was awesome. Now I just need boots.
I surprisingly have no complaints about work, except to say that I have been waking up at either 4 or 5 in the morning every day since last Tuesday. And it has been sucking. But I'm off tomorrow and I very much plan on sleeping in till like, at least 7. It's going to be amazing.

Highlights of the past weekend

Hung out with my brother and his awesome wife.
Went to a new (to me) Renaissance fair.
Spent too much money on bath salts.
Bought a toy gun.
Had the most amazing hot dogs I've ever tasted in my life.
Finally got to see an episode of Dexter when it originally aired.
Because the belt broke on my Jeep while we were heading home Sunday night and we had to stay another night at my brother's.
Paid an astronomical (to me) fee to have the belt replaced, and the water pump.
Lost the driver side paneling on my Jeep at some point while it was being towed.
Was reminded countless times why I call my brother one of my best friends.
Had Sonic. Finally. They offer tater tots as a side. No one told me this. Why did no one tell me this?
Gained about 6 pounds. (I'm pretty sure.)

Things in Our Apartment...

... that keep not working and/or are killing us:


The wiring.

Light bulbs always seem to be burning out but actually you can just fidget with the bulb in the socket and suddenly the bulb works fine again for weeks. We have a lamp post in our front yard that didn't have a bulb in it when we first moved in. So we put one in and it was awesome. We didn't even need to use the porch lights cause it was so bright. It was like a street lamp, which our street would know nothing about. Then it suddenly shorted. And now no bulb works in there. Sometimes outlet don't work. But for very short periods of time. I'll plug rechargeable batteries in over night and the next morning they won't be charged. But I can take it to a different outlet and plug them in and the light goes green! Which makes perfect sense.

The plumbing.

For god's sake. The plumbing. Right now, the cold water nozzle in the bath is all loosey-goosey and you have to spend two minutes trying to actually turn off the cold water without just spinning it back to on, and you can seriously turn it in either direction to get water. Righty-tighty lefty-loosey is not a term recognized by the appliances in our apartment. Also, the toilet will start running even if no one has flushed it in over three hours, the bathroom sinks takes at least as long to drain, and recently the kitchen sink started backing up. It'll fill up, drain, I'll clean down the residue (horrifying), and then come back later and there will be a new and interesting ring to clean up. As though the dog were using the sink while I was out.

The mold.

We have black mold in the basement. I stay out of there. Also, something terrifying seems to be happening with the shower walls and the caulking, as well as right outside of the shower. The wall has like this swollen look to it, like the plaster got wet but never dried. It's been there since day one, we even took a picture of it. When we move out, I expect our full security deposit. Or I'll burn this mother down.

The windows.

Every single window has a crack in it. Every one of them. We finally stole some storm windows from when the landlord put in brand new windows on the upstairs apartment so we can pretend we're keeping the heat in in the winter, but I think we're going to need some plastic this year.

There's other stuff, (the porch, the garage, the basement stairs) but I'm getting ready for a weekend trip with some crazies (yo, brother and sister-in-law) and I need to get a move on.

Second Verse, Same as the First

I know lately I've been talking about trying to get multiple jobs but I've realized I think I'm actually trying to find another, completely separate job. As in, I would like to get another job, so that I can quit my current job. I have never worked at a place that is so needy and unorganized and unappreciative of their employees. Granted, I've only had four jobs, not counting this one, but three of them were working in fast food (one of the most unappreciative services there is), and none of them were this disgustingly needy. I dread their call like I dread the student loan calls. It seems like every day they're calling me to see if I can come in for a few hours, and half the time, more like 75% of the time, they actually mean just three hours. Some days I think about going in to shop, or just browse the clearance or whatever, and then I absolutely do not because I know the minute I walk in those doors, whether I'm  alone or with someone, someone will see me and they will ask me if I want to work. And yes, I do need the money, but I do actually have things to do. I do laundry on Tuesdays and Fridays so that Jeremy's gi is always clean for karate class. We still don't have our own washer and dryer so I go to my parents house and it is kind of actually an all day thing, especially when mum is already doing laundry, or when she's left laundry overnight or whatever. Today is Friday. (You can see where this is going.) Work called me in today from 11-4. Now you're probably saying, why don't you just go after work Storm? And I'll tell you why: because I actually like spending time with my husband. I work all day tomorrow, and Sunday, and Monday, so if we don't hang out tomorrow for a few hours, I will literally only see him in passing until Tuesday. Which would make sense if I were working an 80 hour a week job or doing some overtime at the office or a traveling salesman, but none of those things are happening. My place of employment is just vindictive. And no, this will not be a sweet paycheck, like everybody keeps telling me. It's going to be a 42 hour pay. And at my wages, after taxes, that doesn't really cover all that much. I know I shouldn't be complaining about having a job where I make a very small wage but when they asked to have me full-time over a month ago I thought they meant 40 hours a week, (and not 5 hours everyday so that I never have a day off and if I do it's somehow my fault, which feels like the game plan) not 40 hours a pay.

Long story short: I hate this place, I want a new job.

Sitting in a Parking Lot

I'm creeping in the parking lot of a truck stop all hopped up on sugar-free Rockstar waiting for my parents to get in. They left their Jeep with me so I could check on the dogs while they were busy getting their redneck on at a NASCAR race in Dover. Classy.
I went over Saturday night to give the one dog her meds. It was horrifying. There was shit everywhere. Someone had diarrhea, twice, and then they seemed to trample through it and track it all over the first floor. I didn't even go upstairs to see if they had destroyed that as well. I called my mum while I was there and gave her the scene and she goes "oh that's terrible, I'm sorry Storm." I was like no no no, that reaction is not acceptable. It is terrifying over here, I think this might be a level of hell, you need to try that again.
I went home and blasted a beer then had a cup of pumpkin flavored coffee with an ice cream sandwich in it.
So that was my weekend.

Exciting Times

I painted my toes this nice bright, shiny green. And then I had this nice bright, shiny purple crackle nail polish that I was going to put on top. Well, it looked bright and shiny in the bottle. On top of the green it looks muddy and not crackled so much as I've been trapesing through a creek and didn't have time to wash my feet. So I put a gloss over it and somehow it looks awesome. It makes no sense to me.

Sunday work called me and asked me if I could stay late for my Tuesday (today) shift. Then yesterday (Monday) while I was buying groceries they called again and asked me not to come in at all. (Douches.) So I woke up this morning thinking it was Monday (it wasn't), and all day I've continued to think that, even after correcting myself. I feel like tomorrow is Tuesday (it's not) because I work early and I didn't today. My whole week is screwed up now. (Douche-y work.)

I just wanted to write a paragraph with a lot of unnecessary asides, so I complained about work. I am annoyed that I lost those hours though... on a related note.

I've been watching Phineas and Ferb on Netflix streaming. When we had cable I thought the show was hilarious and I used to DVR new episodes. Now Netflix brings me new episodes and I pay a lot less per month for that. I hope when we have kids that this show is still on the air so I can plop their chubby little baby selves in front of the TV to zone out on it for hours at a time.

Just a moment ago, I yanked my glasses off, tossed my laptop aside on the couch, and raced into the kitchen to possibly vomit in the sink. (Jeremy's in the bathroom.) I didn't, but now I'm trying to figure out why I'm nauseated but not about to puke. I hate that feeling. Like I'm going to be sick but I'm positive I won't actually spew. But I still feel like I will.

I have three new short stories making their way around in my noggin, and I feel pretty good about at least one of them being finished before my mini-vacation in October. I'll still post while I'm gone because we're going to a Renaissance Festival and what isn't fun and noteworthy about those? (That's not sarcasm either.) I'll post the story on my fiction page here. Where I haven't posted anything in like, two years. I need to clean up some of the work on there. It reads like it was written by a 16 year old, cause I was about 16 when most of the stuff was written. Don't judge too harshly.

Another Work Rant - cause I really effin' hate that place

I hate working on the weekend. I hated it even before Saturday and Sunday became the only two days that Jeremy and I could actually spend the day together. Something about it just seems off to me. I'm not saying businesses shouldn't be open on the weekend, cause I want to see a movie, or shop, or get food. I'm just saying I shouldn't work on the weekend. I should sleep in (which is really only till 8-ish, I'm an early bird), and not have to be in a rush to shower and look presentable. On both days, not just Sunday. (Sunday is Jeremy's lazy day. He has absolutely no interest in doing anything that doesn't directly involve hanging out on the couch or eating food. Most Sunday's he doesn't even shower.) But ever since my stupid job made it seem like it was my fault I wasn't getting hours I have to work weekends now. HAVE to. No joke, I was told I have to be available on Saturdays and they already have me on most Sundays. So now my days off fall in the middle of the week. Yay! I get to hang out by myself like a loser cause all my flaky friends are in school or have other flaky friends to hang out with and my husband has a real job, unlike me. Who is still working in retail. Despite my intelligence, quick learning, adaptability, people skills (when I have to have them), and blah blah blah.

The most irritating part about all of this jerking me around at work is that they say it's my fault cause I'm the system for a specific position which only has off store hours. So the computer won't schedule me past a certain time. Somehow, I'm to blame for entering myself in the position even though I don't have clearance to do that. And somehow, after being offered full-time, I wasn't changed in the system to allow for that. But it's my fault. Except my availability says that I can't work past 11 am on Sundays. So naturally I was scheduled from 2-7 tomorrow night. I feel like there's a blatant flaw in their making me seem like the idiot. So I changed my availability Thursday but it didn't take so I went in yesterday and changed it again. While in the store, before I even got to the backroom, my name was hollered across the store and I was asked by a supervisor (or something) if I was visiting or if I wanted to work. And she meant immediately. Not like in a few hours, or later that evening. She wanted me to walk into the backroom, clock in, not put on my name tag cause some dumb fuck keeps stealing it from out of my locker, and get on the floor. I have shit to do! And then when I said no she was right on my case, 'do you want to work tomorrow? please? we'd really appreciate it and I'll love you forever.'

Ya know what? When you're asking an employee to pick up a shift, don't make it sound like you're asking them to let you borrow that dress you really like for a date tonight. It is juvenile and unprofessional, you small irritating children. Also unprofessional is asking me to clock in every time I come in to shop. Especially when I'm with people, more importantly when I'm with my mother and you don't know if I've driven here separately or if now I have to ask her if she wouldn't mind coming back in four hours to pick me up cause everyone else I know has a fucking life and it doesn't revolve around their job or my job. You are needy, work. Needy, and you make me feel guilty when I can't come in, or when I just don't fucking want to because you plan poorly. Constantly. You always under schedule then you plague me with calls to come in. And when I can't make it in to pick up those four hours you suddenly have free and you knew I liked the hours (correction: I do not like the hours, I like paying bills on time, and I know that girl was a no-show cause you said so in your voicemail. That's not a courtesy, that's you trying to cover your ass.) I'm the bad guy who's bringing her poverty on herself.

I hate you. And I want to quit. But no one else seems to be interested in hiring me. I deeply regret not taking that job at Wal-Mart, and that's a sentence I never thought I would have to say. And for that I hate you more.

So naturally, I said I would work today. Cause I hate that place so frickin' much, but not quite as much as student loan people calling me half a dozen times a day. They're almost tied in my hatred honestly.

Stuff I Do

I make masks sometimes. This one I made for a Halloween costume last year. Also, this is to test out blogging from my phone using the Blogger app instead of the site (like I've legitimately done a few times).

Jones Soda is trying to tell me something

While in the midst of applying for various jobs doing god knows what I opened a bottle of Jones Soda. The cap said, "Don't be hasty, prosperity will knock at your door." Or something to that effect.

Two days ago I was drinking another Jones Soda, wondering if I should buy these boots that I've been lusting after, and this cap said, "Financial decisions will prove rewarding."

Then yesterday my brother texted me regarding a business opportunity and Jeremy and I are teetering on it. Isn't feasible right now, where would we live, he needs a new job, etc. I opened another Jones Soda and this cap says to me, "Travel and money are soon in your future."

If you're wondering, no we don't spend the ludicrous amounts of money Jones Soda expects from us often, if at all. They bought too much at work and they were going to pass the sell-by date so they've been in the fridge for the employees for free for the past week or so. I take one home everyday I work. I was originally taking good flavors for Jeremy cause I don't care that much about it, but then good flavors dwindled and died. Now it's just green apple and diet vanilla bean.

ANYWAY, I find it curious that I keep getting caps talking about prosperity and travel and my future when those are the things I'm most concerned with right now. And also that I'm getting them from the place I'm hoping to get out of.

About two weeks ago now, almost three, I was asked if they could have me full-time. I said yes. Last week I got 18 hours, which is more than twice what I normally get. This week? I have 9 hours.

Jeremy says if I'm not full-time by the end of the month just to quit, whether or not I have another job, cause he's tired of them dicking me around. (Spell check came up on 'dicking.') I don't like it much either but I don't think it's wise. He makes enough for us to struggle by for about two months but I haven't had any luck finding something else (aside from Wal-Mart) for the past two years that I've been looking. I don't think the opportunity we've waiting for is going to come knocking in the next two months.

Aside: The day I was supposed to get my job offer from Wal-Mart is the day I was offered full-time. Which is why I turned down Wal-Mart. We all make really, really stupid mistakes sometimes.

Don't interrupt me when I'm trying to ignore you.

I've reached the level of apathy in my life regarding the human race that sometimes startles me. You know the one. You're sitting out somewhere, maybe on break at work, or outside enjoying the weather, and you have a book in front of you. Or a cell phone, magazine, something that can hold your interest. And someone sits down near you, or they come outside and to where you are, for some reason. You don't say anything to them. They remain there awkwardly for a moment. You think you'll be able to enjoy your book, or text conversation, catching up on trashy celebrity gossip, etc.

And then they start talking to you.

And you don't look at them.

So they keep talking.

You can hear everything that they're saying. You are completely disinterested.

And they keep talking.

Now you're pretending you're reading but you're actually not because you're so pissed off that this person is talking to you when you are clearly not talking to them, but they keep talking anyway, and you can't join the conversation now because you've come too far, and that's even if you wanted to. Which you absolutely do not. You would much rather this annoying god-forsaken individual just shut their damn mouths because you were having a perfectly good time just sitting by yourself and doing whatever the hell you were doing before they arrived needing attention like a starved child. Really though they need a good smack in the face.

If I'm reading, do not talk to me. I can hear you perfectly fine. I am never so engrossed in something, book movie, music, piece of art, sandwich, that my brain loses the ability to utilize my other senses. I know you're fucking there, and I know you're fucking talking to me. I do not care. But what you have to say is so monumentally uninteresting that I have to resort to pretending I can't hear you.

Sometimes, I'll have my head phones in at work or on a trip. My music is never so loud that I can't hear the conversation around me. What if something important is happening? I like to be aware at all times. Sometimes, my music isn't even playing. There is literally no sound coming from head phones. But I just know someone is going to try to talk to me and maybe that conversation or person will be interesting, in which case I take out an ear phone. This is generally the best indicator that I am now ready to converse with you.

Most times, I will leave in the ear phone, and I will stare blankly out of the window, or at something that isn't the person talking to me. This is also an exceptional indication that I do not want to converse with you. Take note. Do not, instead, continue speaking to me.

It makes me want to choke you.

Things That Have Been Happening

1. Jeremy's been teaching me to shoot. We went to a firing range a few weeks ago and then Saturday night at my parents we set up a redneck range, consisting of Christmas Styrofoam cups on a log on a low table with some cardboard taped up to the fence behind it so I could see where my shots were going, and using his Airsoft guns. Jeremy says I have good grouping but I still need to work on actually hitting the target. Although I have done it a few times.

2. Supposedly they're training me at work to move into a position that isn't available yet and won't be until the current employee leaves. Which could be in a month, or it could be next year. I don't want the position, and they haven't told me whether there's a pay increase (not including the fact that I'll be getting more hours so in a way it's an increase), but we need the money and I don't have anything else on the horizon. I would still need a second and possibly third job though, like now. Cause I wouldn't make what I need to be making to pay off my loans in five years. I don't want us trying to have a baby while still neck-deep in loans and renting a crappy apartment. I'd like to have made some headway.

3. We did some end of summer cleaning and cleared out just an ass load of clothing. I keep debating on whether to just give it to Goodwill or to try and re-sell it on the internet. Some of it is just crap, shirts with holes, shirts with stains, pants that have worn away in the thigh, etc. but I don't really think it'll be worth my time. I think I'll just end up spending more on shipping total than I'll make. I don't want to break even, especially cause I actually don't have any money right now.

4. Amazon's wish list and suggestions is slowly draining my life. I got on there the other day, looking for a cheap dress cause I like browsing, and then I found something I liked and I added it to my wishlist until I get paid again. Then of course Amazon was like, 'I see that you're into this dress, here's what other people are into. Take a look.' I ended up killing two hours on there, just adding shit to my wish list. There are six pages of shit I don't need but I fully expect people, or myself, to buy it all for me. Especially the books. Some of the books I didn't even read the description on, I just liked the title and there was a convenient little button underneath that said 'Add to Wishlist' and I was like, 'um, absolutely.' Stupid Amazon.

5. I recently heard that I have three months to get Thank You cards out in the mail after the reception. Is this true? Cause I've been stressing about it. First I couldn't find my paper with all the addresses on it. Then I couldn't figure out if I should write the same generic thank you in each card or if I should personalize them. Once I wrote the cards I still had to track down Jeremy and have him sign them. And now that I have them all made out, and the paper with the addresses on it, I still need Jeremy to sign them. And again, cause I'm broke I don't have stamps. I had to use a stamp from mum to mail our rent check. There's something incredibly sad about that.

This Old House

Okay so, this house we were thinking of maybe possibly investing in, it was terrifying. Not in that, spooky haunted house way. More in that, sweet Lord how you can let a young couple starting out show interest in this house without trying to talk them out of? Have you no shame?

Let's start with the roof. The work that needs done is minimal, no more than a four feet radius. But it is substantial. And that is going to lead me directly to something else which I need to wait on. Cause before that, there's the stairs to the "second floor." It's a cape cod. We're not fooling anyone here with this second floor BS. It's an attic. The ceilings are creepy and angled weird, there are essentially no closets but some roomy cubbies that look like they would meet in the middle but they certainly don't, which is surprisingly more disconcerting than if they actually did. The carpet has been pulled up in this space, like the rest of the house, but not to reveal a nice wood floor. Or even a crappy wood floor. Instead, there is kitchen tiling on the floor. Seriously. And then they carpeted over it. Cause I guess that's the thing to do? I don't know.

Oh! There's also a door up there. It opens up to the garage roof. Which is something you do with cape cods cause the house next door is also a cape cod and has a door that opens up to the garage roof. That part was kinda cool but we'd have to put up a railing on the roof to have a sweet balcony.

None of that can happen until the stairs are fixed. Every step is cracked right along the middle. All the way up. And the railing is garbage too. The stairs look like a small child assembled them. Without support in the middle. Just notched some large wood and slid some smaller wood in the notches. Cause that's how you make stairs when you want someone to fall and die.

There were some sweet pocket doors, and a huge picture window in the living room. The kitchen was a lot bigger than ours currently and it opens up right to the living room, there's no wall between the rooms. We liked that. We didn't like the foyer. Which is located right beneath where the roof needs work. I'm going somewhere with this.

Mold.

Mold, all the hell over the place. And deep in the plaster too. It was barely on the surface but once you spotted it you could trace the swollen and cracking plaster all over that damn foyer. It was kinda gross.

There's a breezeway from the garage to the house. They put in a drop ceiling, for some ungodly reason. Also, swollen with mold. Literally swollen with mold. I was worried if we stayed too long the tiles would burst and we'd be enveloped in noxious, poisonous... ya know, mold.

Then in the basement, which does not leak, somehow, there's this awful damp smell. It's thick down there, I'm telling you. We assume it's the mold behind the wood paneling. Which is a shame cause it's a nice basement.

The whole house is actually very lovely. Except there is way too much mold and carpet staples and kitchen tile in bedrooms and poorly covered roof and death stairs for the place to worth the investment. We would easily need a minimum of six grand up front just to cover rent on both places (cause it would take at least a month to get that place together) and all the minor things we'd need to get it in living condition. And I would definitely want a home inspection done, or whatever I would need to check how severe the mold damage is. It was also need reappraised cause the property tax is crazy high for that area. It's twice what my parents pay and they have a two story with three times as much land.

I don't honestly know how property tax works though. I should check that out.

I have to finish up thank you's cause it's been almost three weeks since people gave us money and stuff for getting married. We should married more often. It wasn't a bad haul.

Nail Polish and Carpet Staples

I couldn't decide what color to paint my nails, so I started mixing some of my older ones and the ones that were dwindling and making new colors. But then I still couldn't make up my mind so I'm trying out ten different ones right now. I had a few more but I kicked their asses to the curb. I'll deal with them later. Anyway, the colors turned out to be five warm shades and five cool shades so I ROYGBIV-ED that shit. And now my left hand is my cool hand. I'm calling it Luke.

In unrelated news, there's this house for sale (rent to own) near my parents that's actually kind of affordable. It's only a little bit more expensive a month than this one but it's bigger, it has a garage that isn't falling apart, and all the money we'd be sending out once a month would be going towards us actually owning the house.

It isn't very practical for me to be driving the distance to work for only four hours but I am still looking for more jobs so it might not be too bad. We still have to look at it first. My parents saw it and said it was nice but that it would need a little work. I guess the owners pulled up the carpet but don't plan on doing anything with the floors. Mum said there were still carpet staples in the floor. And it looks like the roof is going to need some work. Exciting.

I know we shouldn't be this picky, considering our financial state and that we are looking for a rent to own like this. I just don't know if I want our first house to be a fixer upper that will end up taking forever for us to fix, if we ever do get it finished. Plus, we don't have the money to have the floors done, or the roof for that matter.

I guess we could just pull up the staples and put area rugs down until we get to a point where we can throw money around. We're going to look at it tomorrow. Fingers crossed it isn't a total shack.

I Don't Like Kids

I have conflicted feelings when I take the dog for a walk. I feel good about the two of us getting some exercise in. I feel a little annoyed when kids get excited to see her and want to pet her. I feel more annoyed when they startle her and then get startled themselves and then parents look at me like I'm the idiot who didn't teach their kids not to approach strange dogs.

I've come to the conclusion that we should walk at night or very early morning when there aren't any people out. Also, I'm not that found of children. The more I'm forced to interact with them, the farther back I push the time frame for wanting to have kids. This is frustrating for me because I've always wanted kids. But now that I'm 23, and married, and feeling like I should be planning for children, I find myself angry that I should feel that way. As if any societal pressures (or family pressures) should govern the very important life decisions Jeremy and I will be making, such as when we have kids, or buy a house. (We would like to own, or be in the process of owning, our own house before we start making babies. That doesn't seem at all feasible though.)

Today at work I was told I needed to have a baby. Needed.

Strange world.

I'm watching 'Prelude to a Kiss' on Netflix right now. I've never seen it but I've read the play, cause I'm a pretentious snob. I know I like the play, and I like Alec Baldwin, but sometimes I'm on the fence about Meg Ryan. That Tweety Bird mouth kinda throws me off.

Additionally, I do believe I'll love my children. When we decide to have them.

The 3 Rules to a Happy, Lasting Marriage...

... as first related by my adorably drunken sister-in-law on my wedding day, and then retold and corrected on their wedding card to us.


Rule 1. Everyday is a new adventure.

Rule 2. Only put $5000 down on a house. (worst rule ever)

Rule 3. Don't get so drunk that you forget the 3rd rule.


I would like to note, that the rules are copied verbatim. Almost verbatim. I can't tell from her handwriting if the 't' in worst is a 't' or an 'e', making the phrase in parenthesis 'worse rule ever.'

So I added that whole thing in case it is an 'e' and I get sued for incorrectly quoting her.

Things

I got to work this morning and the truck wasn't there. Sometimes it'll run late but be there by at least 5. Then 5 came and went and still no truck. So until we heard from the distribution center we BS-ed and changed some headless mannequins clothes and the like. Then we were told the truck wouldn't be here in enough time for us to get shipment done before the store opened. Long story short, I woke up at 4 this morning to work for an hour and a half. And now the truck is coming tomorrow.

I know it sounds like I'm a pussy, but it is really exhausting waking up at 4 or 5 every morning only to work for 4 hours. Cause then I come home and have to try to stay awake until 8 or 9 that night. If I take a nap then I end up awake at midnight, staring at the ceiling, willing myself to sleep. This is why I want a second job. I can come home, hang out for a bit, take care of the dog, then go to another job for about 4 or 5 hours. And the extra money. I also want a second job for the extra money.

My mom is involved in community theatre around these parts and the one theatre she's a mainstay at is looking for local playwrites so they don't have to pay royalty fees and she keeps pushing me to finish a play so they can put it on. Except none of my ideas are ready to be seen yet, and the one good one I think I have is still just a tiny little spark. And it would need to be done by December or January.

It would be good motivation, and it would get my work out there, and I could put it on a resume (I'm not actually sure, do writer's have resumes? Or is it just a reputation?) but the real problem I'm facing is that I have no one to discuss it with. No one to bounce ideas off of.

Which brings me to why I enjoy Mad Men so much. I love the creative process. When I did 24-Hour Theatre, the few years that I did do it, I really enjoyed talking things out with my writing partners. I liked being on a team and I wasn't afraid of saying something stupid because I would also be able to say something funny. All the teams I was on, everyone was very helpful and encouraging. It is impossible for me to be encouraging when I'm the only writer. I can only be disdainful and patronizing.

I also really enjoyed Studio 60 on The Sunset Strip for the behind-the-scenes look at making a sketch comedy show. That was one of my favorite shows, the whole 22 episodes it lasted. Poor Aaron Sorkin. Aside from The West Wing his TV shows don't exactly soar.

I also would not get paid for the play. Which makes it difficult to get motivated.

The Bright Side of Life

I think tomorrow's the day I do it. Tomorrow's the day I wear a skirt to work. Maybe I should wait until Friday. There's no shipment on Friday. Just signage. Which shouldn't involve ladders for any reason. Unless they switch me to something else, like they did this morning... I'll have to think on this decision.

The reception this past weekend went wonderfully. Like everything else major that happens in this family it came down to the wire. People were showing up and my dad hadn't even showered yet. He was hanging out in sweat pants and he was all sweaty and gross from moving tables and chairs. But we got it together before Jeremy's guests showed up. My family knows what to expect, his doesn't. I'd like to keep them in the dark a little bit longer.

It got a little too loud for my tastes later into the night. And people kept deviating from my playlist. I would've preferred the music to stay big band and swing and a little mellow, but I know everyone loves to dance. Except my husband. But we did get our one dance, a slow song of course. It was after most guests had left though and we were the only ones really paying attention so naturally there are no pictures.

In fact, there aren't really any pictures of anything aside from one big group photo and Jeremy and I cutting the cake. Twice. We did it the first time and nobody said anything to me about pausing to mug for the camera, cause that's not something I generally do, so we had to pretend we were cutting it a second time. And I look pregnant in the pictures. I had meant to pick up some Spanx or something but I just never got around to it and I really regret that decision now. I also really regret having friends and family who let that happen with no regard for myself and the people that I can't show these pictures to because I'm self-conscious. Thanks family.

On the other hand at least I wasn't wearing Spanx and then blatantly showing them to everyone because I don't know how to sit like a lady. Talking about one guest in particular here, but no I won't be specific. Cause what if they actually read this. Oh snap.

I do love the web page for Spanx. None of those women look like they need the item they're modeling. Is that because that's how amazing Spanx are? No. Because I can count the one models ribs. She could be a xylophone. The plus-size page is my absolute favorite. Not one of those bitches is bigger than I am. I either need to get me some Spanx for just like, all the times, or I need to reevaluate my eating habits and exercise regime.

I made Jeremy watch The Usual Suspects last night. He didn't seem as impressed with it as I was. My one brother even told me the ending before I saw it and I was still amazed with it. But Jeremy was like, 'it's good.' Which is basically like saying, 'meh.'

I spent my entire shift at work organizing jeans in the dude department. Four hours of just, reading planograms and muttering angrily under my breath about how stupid the fuckers who shop there and who work there are. Before I started, my supervisor asked me if I know how to POG (read a planogram, and follow it) and I stared at her blankly for a moment before thinking of a polite response. Because the first one that came into my head was along the lines of, 'are you asking if I'm at, or above, a third grade reading level?'

My family asked me how my job hunt was going this weekend. 'I saw on Facebook you were talking about being tired of interviews, mah mah mah.' I hate not seeing people for a while and having to catch up and be like, yes I do still work at that crappy job. And live in that crappy apartment. And drive that crappy vehicle. I couldn't even be like, 'and this is my husband, Jeremy,' cause he's already met all of the family that was there.

At one point, I started saying hi to people, re-greeting them, and saying, 'and of course you remember my husband.'

Because nothing else has changed.

...Sigh

A Look Into My Writing Process...

Sometimes when I'm at work and I have an hour left in my shift and not a lot of product left to put out, I often find myself wondering if I can stretch out the placement for the entire 60 minutes.

That's just an example of how much I don't care about my job.

I never do actually take as long as possible of course, cause if I were bad at my job then I wouldn't be able to judge everyone else for being lazy and inefficient. Which is a favorite past time of mine.

I've been thinking of wearing skirts to work. And if you know what my job is you know how stupid it would be for me to wear a skirt. Climbing ladders and shit all the time. But I do love wearing skirts and dresses. And outside of work, I don't really go anywhere. So I'm basically just sitting around my house, brain-warping on my laptop or watching Netflix, looking spiffy as heck. And nobody gets to see it.

I had this idea for a play today. It's about a guy who goes into an exotic pet store, it's a well-known front for drug dealing and the like, but the guy doesn't know that. So he goes in and he's looking for some exotic bird, and the name of the bird (I don't have that yet) is the codeword for wanting to buy drugs. And when said drugs are brought to the guy that's the exact time the cops bust the store, naturally. Hijinks ensue in the second act, but I haven't fleshed that out yet.

There's an exotic drug store on the corner of our street that we're pretty sure is a front for some kind of drug trafficking. I honestly don't know where I get my ideas from.

Words, Words, Words

I've been thinking lately about writing. Well really, I think about writing most of the time but I think about it in terms of 'making money from it and being able to pay bills.' I used to think in terms of 'this would be a good story, I should write this down.' It frustrates me that I think I have to consider it from one perspective or the other. Why can't I think about it from both simultaneously? 'This would be a good story, maybe there's a profit in there somewhere.'

This one blog I read, Volcanic Ensemble, the woman who writes it had a post a few months ago that I really connected with. She was celebrating x-number of years writing her blog and she said when she originally started the blog the tag (or possibly the name of the blog itself, unfortunately I don't recall exactly) was 'I promised myself I would today so here goes.' Or something similar. Let's consider that a paraphrase. I used to do that. Not tell myself I would write today, but I would literally write everyday. I had a book bag full of notebooks and pens and I would take it with me wherever I went. Instead of a purse with essential things in it, I carried a book bag with what I considered essential things. Sometimes, I would wake up at night and write something down, a poem or lyrics or a title, and go back to sleep. Something would come to me and I would write it down and go back to it later. That was such a good system. Now when I think of something I spend hours agonizing over it, trying to force the idea into existence. I thought of this great title for a sci-fi/fantasy novel over a year ago, and I came up with a name for a main character. Since then I've struggled through six variations of half of the first chapter. I haven't even finished one chapter.
This one's better: I've been working on a story since I was 13. I have never written an ending for it. The characters have changed drastically, the storyline has changed even more drastically, I've altered the

Celebratory Drinks!

I have officially been married for one month!!!!

(Yes, it needed four exclamation marks.)
Good, now that the awesomest news I have to tell is out of the way, here are some other not so awesome (or even interesting) things that I've been up to... since my last post. Sunday.

Started re-watching Mad Men on Netflix. I miss that show so much. I have to wait until 2012 for the new season? AMC, we need to talk.

Bought beer for the reception Saturday. I also picked up these margarita mixes that you just freeze and then ta-da, ya got a tasty drink. I'm saving those for Saturday as well, but they don't come out till evening time. I really hope a lot of the people leave at 5:30 like the invite said. That sounds terrible. I don't care though, I was just hoping for a relaxed evening with close friends and family and instead we got the typical 'let's just celebrate with the neighbors too!' from my parents. It is a big deal for our parents but come on, both sides have already had a kid get married. It's not a new thing.

I hate Bath and Body Works. I can't stop buying their products. And then, they keep giving me coupons for sweet discounts. Free shipping on an order of $25 or more? Of course I would love to spend my hard earned meager wage on your lotions and potions. What's this? Free item with purchase of any Signature Collection item? I do love free items with purchase. Bath and Body, you know me so well.
I had to give my mum some of my lotions because between that place and this other store I shop at (hausofgloi.com) I have amassed a pretty little collection of lotions that I'm fairly certain will last me three winters. That sounds like a time frame from the 14th century. In Egypt.
I plan on buying more. Ya know, cause I gave some away.

I'm making mac 'n cheese for dinner, in celebration of our being married for one month. For real.

It's De-Lightful

So after all that bitching I did about how the yard would look all redneck-y and such, my brother and his wife came over to my parents the night before the wedding to hang out for a bit and Scotty saw the backyard and I guess felt that it wasn't good enough for his little sister to get married in as it was. So early Saturday morning, (I like to imagine they were sitting in the parking lot waiting for the manager to open the doors, like those crazy Black Friday shoppers... which they are) they went out to Hobby Lobby and rented some stuff to pretty up the place and they even borrowed chairs from his in-laws. Oh, and they bought us two big flower bouquets and vases that are sitting on top of my piano now. I'm sad that I didn't get to see until after the ceremony though cause I only had a short time to really appreciate it. I wasn't allowed out of the house until the walk "down the aisle." (There wasn't really an aisle.) Everyone else saw it though so that's good. But what I did see was beautiful. My sappy big brother...

I ended up going with my back-up dress. The intended dress was ready in time, but when I put it on it just didn't feel right. I pictured something so much different in my head and I really thought I had conveyed that properly but I guess not and now I just have a kinda fancy dress for if we ever go anywhere where I need a fancy dress. My brother's wife summed up perfectly how I felt when I was wearing the original dress when she said she almost wanted to cry seeing my face when I looked in the mirror. I was just disappointed. But the back-up, while probably not beautiful, made me feel how I imagine a bride is supposed to feel when she puts on her dream dress. It didn't look anything like what I imagined my wedding dress would look like, but then again I didn't start imaging a dress until we started planning a wedding. Which I think is backwards.

I only wish that we had chosen some music to be played while people were waiting, or at least while dad and I walked from the back door to the very back of the yard. Everything I had wanted though made me cry when I pictured it and I knew I would already be crying enough once I was up there with him, I didn't want to exacerbate that. So instead there was an awkward silence, well it was awkward for everyone else, dad and I just made jokes about how awkward it was and how I was going to cry like a little girl... so I wouldn't start crying. Jeremy's mum made a comment about the lack of music while I was making my way up, and then he told me about it later and for some reason I got all fired up about it. I know there should have been something but maybe you can wait until after the wedding to make your snide remarks. I'm the only one allowed to be snarky about my wedding during my wedding. Occasionally Jeremy can be, but only occasionally.

I wrote our vows that morning. Literally, that morning. Courtney and I were texting until about one in the morning trying to work some things out. We had a general idea but all of the vows seemed cliche, hollow, or contrite. So I ended up paraphrasing F. Scott Fitzgerald and Shakespeare, and taking a bit here and there from some of the vows she found online. We didn't read our own, or recite after her. Instead she introduced them as being written by us and then she read them. I liked it better that way, cause it felt more unified. Also, neither of us would have gotten through them. We're big babies.

I asked my dad to read a poem by Yeats, which he (my dad) made it through just fine, but I did not. I was fine as long as I kept looking at our hands. The moment I looked at Jeremy though I thought, 'thank god Courtney's reading the vows.' We also did a sand-ceremony-thing. Which is where we each have a container of colored sand and we pour the two colors together into one container. We went with light and dark blue cause it our favorite color and the jars are now sitting on top of the piano, between the two vases of lovely blue flowers from Scotty and Ashley.

I should've known it would be a perfect day, (except for my being sick and coughing until I vomited in the Olive Garden restroom and everyone thinking I was pregnant) despite everything that wasn't working out how I wanted it to. Our family does well in the clutch.

I'll tell you what I'm not excited about that though: mum invited Drunkle (our consistently drunk uncle) to the reception while I was on honeymoon. Yeah. That's happening.

De-lovely, continued

I re-read my journal entries, considering whether or not I should just transpose all of it on here. I thought better of it when I found myself wondering at the lack of detail in places where there should be detail, and an excess of it where there didn't need to be. Some of the entries read like a telegraph, without the 'stop' :

"Watched 'The Lovely Bones' and ate pasta. Caught 'Spaced' and 'Black Books' on British television and felt cool. We're such losers."

"Bought a few girly accessories at a shop called Accessorize. How could I not? Found a shop called Storm. They sell ladies clothing... took a picture of it."

"We made rum and coke vanilla floats this evening. Fantastic idea."

That last one isn't a telegraph example, I just wanted people to know. We made rum and vanilla coke floats one night. We drank them in wine glasses. We took pictures of them. And they were delicious. I don't even like rum and they were delicious. I also found that I don't mind rum when it's mixed with black currant or raspberry juice. (Seriously. Tasty.) They have this line of juices from Ribena, and it's basically juice, sugar, and water. Strawberry, the aforementioned black currant, raspberry, and I found apple. The one gas station we stopped at had a slew of other flavors but I was taken in by the black currant cause you don't really find it a lot around here.

I bought this sweet mug and coaster set with the Welsh flag on them, and I'm drinking my morning tea from it right now. I just took a sip and went, 'ahh' in that overly satisfied way.

People make fun of me when I extend a pinky when I drink or eat. I don't know why. I mention this because I intentionally did it just now with my tea to be as pompous as possible when wearing what can only be described as 'Flash Dance-esque' and sitting in front of a laptop writing a blog. (I misspelled 'blog' as 'blag' and the spell check has not corrected me. What the fuck is a blag?) This paragraph also reminded me that when we were at dinner one night I was eating a chicken sandwich and drinking a half pint of Guiness (no one told me how delicious it was on draft! what the hell!?) and drowning my chips in salt and vinegar and Jeremy pointed out that despite my hands-only meal I was straight-backed and pinky-outed the whole time. I like to be posh when devouring my meals like a savage.

So, about my tea (and customs). I was all excited cause here we have the Twinings of London tea, but over there it's just called Twinings. And I really wanted to bring back a box. Except we found out that there's all this stuff you have to declare, no matter how miniscule the purchase or acquisition, and you have to keep receipts to prove purchases and it seemed like it was going to be a big fiasco when we went through customs. So we decided we would just pack things away nice and cozy in our checked baggage and just claim about $200 worth of clothing. Then when we thought about it, how would they know what clothes we did and didn't bring with us? So we decided we wouldn't do that and instead just hide everything and claim nothing and pray to god we didn't get selected for a random baggage search. Fortunately we did not, but I do still wonder (aside from the fine that I kept hearing about in the video that played continuously with subtitles in a different language each time while in line at customs, and the possible time spent at a detention facility) what would have happened had they searched our bags.
"I see you have some chocolate in here... You gonna eat that?"
"Interesting. And what were you planning to use this book for?"
"Mam, can you prove these rocks were given to you and that you did not in fact steal them from an ancient monument?"

That last one, I totally cannot prove. Because we did take a few rocks from St. Quentin's Castle, located in the lovely little village of Llanblethian. (I believe I mentioned it previously... normally there would be a link there but it was the post before this so just scroll down. I'm sure you'll find it.)

I don't know if I mentioned this but when we were at St. Quentin's I took a picture of the sign there with all the 'no dogs allowed, please do not litter' jargon on it. Specifically, of the part where it says, in both English and Welsh (like every sign in Wales): It is an offense to use a metal detector on an ancient monument.

No joke.

I'll put the picture up once we transfer the images to my laptop, cause right now they're all shared between Jeremy's laptop and Jeremy's tablet. My dream vacation and all of the photos are on Jeremy owned devices. What the hell?