gravity, with pictures!

Oh man. I can’t even begin to sum up the past few days. It’s been crazy. Just crazy.

We went up to my alma mater for a birthday party and it was one of the longer nights of my life. I elected to have us stay in a quaint little bed and breakfast within walking distance of downtown Appleton, and you know what the worst place to be stupidly drunk at 2:30am is? A quaint bed and breakfast, that’s where. We stumbled in so late, and I do believe I was shoeless. I sincerely hope that we did not disturb the newly weds who were spending their first married night in the room adjacent to us. I have a sneaking suspicion that they would not understand our drunken predicament seeing as they seemed the non-drinking type. Cursed teetotalers.

Adding insult to injury was the emergency stop at a gas station somewhere on the Wisconsin/Illinois border in order for me to puke my guts out on the drive home. I’m so sorry to all patrons of that particular gas station/family diner. I really hope your kids learned an important lesson from my vulgar display of stupidity: NEVER BINGE DRINK OVER THE AGE OF 20 (actually, just don’t binge drink I suppose).

I blame it on Appleton. There is something in the air of that town that makes people drunk. I never get drunk like that unless I’m at a wedding, because I cannot get over the privilege of an open bar and feel like I owe it to the hosts to take full advantage of their generosity. Maybe that’s why my wedding invitation receipts have declined dramatically this year? Nah.

It was stupid and it took fully 2-days to get over that night and thusly I accomplished nothing productive Saturday or Sunday. In fact that only thing I did accomplish was to experience extreme insomnia Saturday night that was virtually intractable. I was worried I would never sleep again. Both Brett and I experienced this phenomenon and we both finally gave up and had sex and that seemed to do the trick. You know you’re in a long term relationship when sex is sometimes a tool for sleep as opposed to a purely pleasure seeking device.

Luckily, it worked, and we finally got to sleep around 5am.

Monday was spent packing, lifting, grunting, sweating and rigging couches to dangle off of second floor balconies until they rested gently on the ground several feet below. My man, he’s some kind of genius. Honestly, without him, the future occupant of that apartment would have a free couch because there was no way that puppy was going out the door. Also, he lowered that couch to the ground all by himself. We have pictures to prove it (note that I am doing nothing but taking pictures, which is really evidence of my uselessness in this moving/home owning thing):

Ear Worm

The blinds in my office are mysteriously drawn today. I did not draw them, so the question remains, who did? My office is locked when I’m not here (sensitive documents lie within the confines of my confine, so I must lock them up to protect the innocent) so I do believe that the only logical conclusion is that my office is haunted. Either that or my boss (the only other person with a key) came in and closed my blinds and maybe stole some Diet Coke, because that’s missing too. Bosses, they cannot be trusted.

Speaking of a lack of trust, I no longer trust my blog reading abilities. I have slacked off for weeks now and it’s so uncool. I mean, I’ve basically fell off the commenting wagon and it’s not because I don’t want to comment, it’s just that I have so much other shit to do that demands attention no matter how little I want to give attention.

I know, it’s so fascinating to read about how busy someone is. Maybe I should now discuss the fact that Brett and I literally watched pain dry last week, or the ins and outs of mold removal of the upstairs bathroom medicine cabinet? That might be just as interesting. (Seriously, what kind of people rest their wet toothbrushes on a wooden surface, repeatedly, such that black mold develops, and then continue to rest their toothbrushes in the same spot despite the presence of aforementioned black mold? Oh my god, so GROSS!)

I’ll leave the house/yard talk to Brett, because honestly, he’s doing most of it. I clean; that’s about all I do. Brett does the actual work, and then I pick up and cleanse the aftermath. It’s all very gender appropriate and all that shit, but really, I have no knowledge of electrical wiring or wielding of pole saws, so it’s best that I stick to what I do know: bleach and Murphy’s Oil Soap.

We also go to Menards on a daily, sometimes bi-daily basis. You know what? You really can save big money at Menards. (If you live anywhere near a Menards, I apologize for inserting that ear worm into your day) We shopped for a new vent/light/heater for the basement bathroom, and the very same unit was $158 dollars at Lowes, whereas it was $72 at Menards. Shocking.

You see what we’ve become? Home owners.

This weekend, however, we’re off to Appleton, Wisconsin for some debauchery. My best friend from college is turning 30 and her husband is throwing her a surprise party at our former favorite watering hold. I cannot wait to show Brett around my alma mater and possibly start crying at the educational opportunities I wasted by being drunk and possibly stoned and these same opportunities are now afforded to people a full 12 years younger than I. Not fair.

Eight fascinating things

Katrin tagged me for this meme approximately forever ago, but you know, we went out of town and bought a house and continue to move into said house and then there's work and wedding planning crap and holy hell I'm busy to infinity. But, I never ignore a proper tag, because I love it when I get tagged, especially by someone who lives in Vienna. I mean, how cool is that?!

8 Things:

Eight things I’m passionate about (interpreted to mean 8 things that get me all sorts of riled up in good or bad ways)
1. homeless or abused pets
2. women’s rights
3. driving in or around Chicago
4. people who think their way is the correct way
5. incidental charges on my bank account or my credit cards
6. Things that are too good to be true
7. Food
8. Brett

Eight things I want to do before I die
1. travel to every continent
2. raise a kid
3. retire
4. feel at home somewhere
5. have more friends than time
6. feel good in my own skin
7. have a garden that produces produce
8. regret less

Eight things I say often
1. “I’m certain I’m not sure”
2. “Uff da” (for real, I say it all the time without even knowing it)
3. “Shut up!” (mainly directed towards Brett because he makes fun of me for saying #2)
4. “Oh yaaa” (spoken like a character in “Fargo”)
5. “Tsst!” (directly at our dogs when they bark at the sky, the wind, invisible forces, etc)
6. “I cannot wait to . . .”
7. “I should really . . .” (clue that I’m a huge procrastinator)
8. “If only we had more money. Sigh.”

Eight books I’ve read recently
1. The Year of Pleasures by Elizabeth Berg
2. Fraud by David Rakoff
3. Dave Barry’s Guide to Guys (What? It was 5 cents at a garage sale a few weekends ago)
4. Broken Promises by a former polygamist about her life living in Mexico as a second wife who’s name I cannot remember
5. The Avon catalog
6. Things to do with a law degree (sometimes I consider a career change)
7. The PMS Outlaws (my sister sends me paperback mysteries and mostly they are crap)
8. Getting the Love you want (the dude who wrote it was on Oprah and I do love me some Oprah recommendations)

Eight movies I’ve seen eight times
1. Top Gun
2. Bull Durham
3. Bridget Jones’ Diary
4. Sliding Doors
5. When Harry Met Sally
6. Field of Dreams
7. Austin Powers
8. The Firm

Totally unbiased

This is funny.

Survey Says: ELOPE

I’m so stupidly stressed out today. I mean, I guess it’s not really stupid because there are large, enormous, requiring CAPITAL LETTERS things going on in my life, but you know, they’re supposed to be happy things that shouldn’t really stress one out.

First of all, the house. All is well except for the fact that the survey came back and apparently one side of our house is located 1.5 inches from the property line. Well, what am I supposed to do about that? Tear the house down? I know it’s not in violation of the unified planning bullshit that the city has enacted because older homes were grandfathered in, but who the hell are we supposed to do with 1.5 inches. I mean, we need an easement just to walk to our backyard on that side of the house. So not cool and so not sure what we’re going to do about this except I am going to lose sleep for the next two nights. That much is certain.

Second of all, I am having not one but two wedding showers this weekend, which should be cause for smiles and not shallow breaths and hand wringing. But you see, my family brings me nothing but shallow breathing and hand wringing because they make me crazy. My poor sister, who was planning the showers (need two because my dad’s side of the family is not allowed to have anything to do with my mother, so sayeth the ruler of the world a.k.a. my father a.k.a. asshole extraordinaire) and who had to stop planning the showers because her hubby got very sick with the cancer. So, my sister’s mother-in-law stepped up and is throwing one shower for me (she’s wonderful) and then my step-mother is supposedly throwing the other shower for my dad’s side of the family. Super, problem solved right? WRONG. My step-mother is feeling slighted because she is throwing a kitchen themed shower for me, but just found out that the other shower is also kitchen themed and now her shower will be duplicitous. Um, what? Who cares about the shower theme and also, it ain’t my fault that you, dear step-mother, failed to communicate with my sister regarding planning. In fact, my sister told my dad exactly what she was planning and he failed to communicate this with my step-mother who is incapable of communicating directly with us and has to use my dad as an intermediary. Healthy. This wouldn’t be an issue if she and my father would grow up and allow family mingling.

I called them and left a message last night saying that it wasn’t a big deal and it wouldn’t be duplicitous and also, I am not the one they need to yell at. Shockingly, no one called me back.

Do I sound spoiled? Probably. The thing is I didn’t even want a shower for this very reason. I don’t care about the gifts, I just want to get married and serve people cake.

Once again, should have eloped!

non-compete clause

Too much going on over the weekend to recount in its entirety. Also, not interesting enough, but basically it went something like this: eat, drink, tennis, walk dogs, hit a gazillion garage sales in the hopes of buying a nice used lawn mower, buy useless junk instead, watch the Cubs lose twice in extra innings, see Indiana Jones do it again, consider that Shia LeBouff is the next BIG thing, wonder how to spell “LaBouf??”, comparison shop new lawn mowers, purchase ladder, recognize how very little I know about home maintenance, thank goodness I am not the only owner of house.

And there you go.

Tennis is still much fun and while I got my ass handed to me by my betrothed once over the weekend, it’s okay because I lack any sense of athletics related competitiveness. I’m all sorts of competitive in other realms of my life, but not sports. I would rather have fun than care about the winner. This is also one of the reasons I’ve never succeeded in sports. One has to care about something to truly be good, and I just would rather everyone be happy and fair than win. God, I’m annoying.

I also baked some shit this weekend and my chocolate chip cookies turned out funny. I think part of the problem was that we only had dark brown sugar and I added one too many eggs. They’re good, I mean how can a chocolate chip cookie be bad, but they’re definitely strange in texture. They’re far better when warmed and eaten with ice cream, which, you know, sign me up. Perfecting the recipe will not be something I’m sad to undertake either.

Finally, packing. Oh the many boxes littering our already littered apartment. T-minus three very long days and I can this apartment right out of my hair. Hallelujah.

Now, here’s a question . . . do you and your partner/husband/boyfriend/lover engage in any healthy competition? Is it fun or heated?

Careful, this one is a run-on sentence mine field

I watch the Idol finally the other night, and wound up fast forwarding through a lot of it because I feared if I didn’t Brett would die. It’s true, there are several shows that I prefer watching when he is not around because he finds them dumb/painful/be-stupiding and I find them utterly addictive (i.e. Idol, The Hills). I enjoy crap T.V. in the same way I enjoy movie theater popcorn – I crave it and then feel sick afterwards. C’est la vie.

Anyhoo, I had taped Idol on the ol’ DVR because Brett and I went to play tennis at about 6:30pm and wouldn’t be back in time for the start. When Idol was over and I switched back to live T.V. we noted that one of the Left Behind series books was made into a movie staring none other than Kirk Cameron. There are several things to digest here, and first and foremost I must admit that I am not a believer in this theory of the end of the world and if I were to describe my religious beliefs they’d hover somewhere around a shrug of the shoulders because I have no idea. I suppose that makes me agnostic and fully a caricature of a Garrison Keillor narrative, but that fits.

So we flipped over to this movie because Brett was raised in a religion that does believe in these things and I am completely fascinated by such beliefs because they are so very dramatic and scary and since when did Kirk Camron stop being Mikey Sever and become a crazy religious guy? We watched about 5 minutes of it and then flipped to the Cubs game, because even though I am fascinated by it, I am also easily turned off by it and also it had the quality of a Lifetime move and that’s just not something any one has more than 5 mintues of patience for (unless it’s staring Meredith Baxter because she’s Alex P. Keaton’s mom and that’s alright with me).

Now, let’s jump back to the fact that Brett and I have taken up tennis, which I casually mentioned above. There are tennis courts at our current apartment complex, and we figured we should take advantage of them while we still pay rent. Of course we had this thought back in August and just last week decided to act on it, but whatever. Tennis rocks and I forgot how very much fun it is.

I played tennis in high school, and while I was technically on the varsity team, it was only because I was stupidly hard working. I had no actual athletic talent, but I put in a whole lot of heart and also I thought that tennis skirts made me look cute. The coach took pity on me and let me on to varsity and I sat on the side lines eating chex mix during most matches. I did look cute though.

I did manage to learn a thing or two and also, sometimes my muscle memory goes into effect and I actually hit the ball with some skill. Most of the time I lob it around like a drunken giraffe, but it’s all good because it’s a work out and I need those.

Brett, on the other hand, has never played tennis and therefore we’re able to play against one another without me getting my ass handed to me (at least for a few more days, until he figures it out and starts whooping me).

But I forgot how complicated the rules of tennis are. I mean you’ve got games, and then sets and then matches. You count in a bizarre way (i.e. love, 15, 30, 40) and then you have to win by at least 2 games and sometimes the line counts and sometimes hitting the net is a fault and sometimes you trip and fall and skin your knee such that skirts and short pants will not be unearthed from the closet for the foreseeable future. Also, I hope my mom still has my tennis skirts from HS because I’m pretty sure Brett would think I looked cute in them. Then again that was (gulp) 12 years ago.

Update

My brother in law was released from the hospital yesterday. He starts chemo on Friday. I talked to him on the phone for the first time last night. He sounded tired (of course) and was coughing a lot, but he was optimistic and was just hoping to get through a day with a needle being pierced into his chest. Poor guy. I just hope the biopsy comes back indicating that it is a very treatable form of cancer. Actually, I more than hope, I implore the result to be such.

The rest of my life can be summed up thusly: BUSY. Annoyingly so, because a lot of the busy comes from things I’d rather not be doing. My dad and step-mom were here over the weekend and Brett and I finally figured out why it’s no fun to hang out with them . . . it’s pretty much like being on a constant job interview. Sucks.

Happily, our wedding invitations were received with great acclaim. We went about our RSVP cards in a little different way. We set them up like MadLibs (note, we completed these before this past week’s Office episode). I’d give you the verbatim, but I don’t have one with me at the office. Basically, it’s written like a post card you’d get from someone on a trip, only we let the recipients fill in the adjectives and we incorporated our wedding in the wording. It’s pretty fun and they’ve been a big hit with our weirdo families. Fun stuff really.

So far everyone has said yes to attend at least one event, and that means that I better get my act together when it comes to the rest of the planning. I mean, I have to get flowers, cake, wedding rings, a veil, some shoes, blah, blah, blah. If I had $$ I would definitely hire someone to do all of this. Actually, I’ve gone the cheap-o route and just enlisted my family to do it for me. Seriously. My aunt picked out my wedding dress (with my approval), my sister’s mother-in-law (Adam’s mom) is picking out our cake, my other aunt is handling the entire reception and basically all we’ve done is picked out the ceremony location and the invitations. I shouldn’t complain, and yet I do. All I do is hand over a credit card. Still, I can’t wait for the actual day because that will mean two things: 1. we will be married; and 2. this planning crap will be over.

Adam

My brother-in-law could talk to a wall if necessary. He is the best person to have around during uncomfortable family gatherings, because he will keep the conversation going. He has a form of muscular dystrophy that makes it hard for him to walk and impossible for him to do things like lift heavy objects, and yet he once helped me move out of a 4 story walk-up. He is generous to a fault and will dispense more compliments than anyone's ego has a right to own. He is a good man.

My brother-in-law has been battling some sort of sickness since Christmastime. He's been coughing like crazy, having back aches, and generally feeling really really shitty. They first thought it was a respiratory infection. Then they thought it was pneumonia. Then he had a CT scan yesterday and diagnosed him with lymphoma. My sister and my brother-in-law live down in Texas and he is very sick and will be in the hospital for some time. I told Brett last night that I wished I were the praying type. He told me I could pray if I wanted to. So I am. Please, think positive thoughts for this wonderful man, who is married to the very best sister a girl could have.

procrastination, candy and mornings

I have things to do, and I don’t want to do them. I’m actually using work as a procrastination tool. That’s pathetic.

The stuff I have to do isn’t even difficult. I have to do things like figure out my insurance policy on the new house, set-up utilities, work out some tax business. Is this difficult? Not particularly, it’s just a pain in the ass, and I’d rather not be bothered. In fact, this is exactly the type of thing I wish I could make a secretary do, but apparently I’m not allowed to make a secretary take care of my personal needs, and also, I trust no one. I’m just going to whine about it until I do it, and then wonder why I work myself up about shit so much.

However, I found a little treasure trove of half-eaten candy bars in one of my desk drawers today. It was a little bit of awesome, because now I have a treat. Now, please don’t be grossed out that I hoard half-eaten candy bars in my desk, it’s not like they’ve been there for years, it’s just that sometimes I’ll get a candy bar and eat half of it, and then throw the rest in my desk so that it’s out of sight and temptation. For some reason, I feel okay eating half a candy bar, but eating a whole one makes me feel the need to run laps around our office building. This makes no sense, because last night I hate an entire Chipotle burrito, followed by a piece of pie and then a margarita. I’m not exactly calorie conscious except when it comes to candy bars. I’m weirder than you can imagine.

Speaking of weird . . . what’s your morning routine? What do you do the same every single morning? Personally, I get into the office, immediately log on to my computer, check both work and personal emails, poor a cup of coffee from my geeky little thermos, and then physically set up the files I’ll be working on that day. It never changes; I do it every day, rain or shine. What about you?

questions on an elevator

I am sitting here, at my desk, in my office, awaiting the download of a recording of a hearing I will be forced to listen to in approximately 3 days, because this download is taking that long. What in the hell is wrong with computers these days? I know Tessie mentioned that Google was acting squirrelly today, but in my experience, everyday is a slow computer day. Maybe it’s the fact that I work in the public sector (not much money to spend on computers), or maybe it’s the fact that my personal computer is 4 years old, which in computer-years is approximately prehistoric. Anyway, computers waste inordinate amounts of time even before I actually do anything with them. This is why I’ve been avoiding computers unless necessary; say for the general keeping of my job.

Regardless, I am here to say hello and discuss a topic that has very little to do with anything going on in my life right now, except for that fact that I just had a discussion about baby names with a very friendly stranger while riding in the elevator. She was pregnant, and asked me what I (a complete stranger) thought of the name “Victor.” Also, as soon as she asked me this question, I tried to channel my inner Swistle, but I'm just not as good at this as Swistle.

I said that it was a very strong name, and not a very common name, which were two good points. But I also said that there weren’t very many options for nick-names and would she want her child to be called “Vic?” Then I back peddled, because she is a stranger, and I don’t like offending ANYONE. I told her it was a great name, and I loved it and ignore everything I said about the nick-name.

Then I started thinking about the names I have on “reserve” for any offspring that come about in the future. You see, I have always wanted to name a son “Charlie.” I just love that name and think it’s great because it’s old, but new again, and it can be dressed up or dressed down and really, it’s just a solid, sturdy, never-get-sick-of-it name. Then I met the man who would someday father my children, and as it would turn out, he had a horse named Charlie. God damn it. Why? We cannot name a child after a horse, or any former pet, no matter how beloved. Scratch Charlie off the list.

As for girls, well, I love the name “Lydia.” It’s perfect, especially with the middle name I have already chosen, “Rose.” I told Brett that our future daughter will be named “Lydia Rose” and he seemed to be okay with that, although at this point, with children so far out in the future, I could have told him our daughter would be named “Tattoo Begonia” and he would have nodded with acceptance. I’m holding him to it, though, it was a verbal agreement and those are binding in the jurisdiction of our apartment.

time warp

Hi everybody. I don’t know if I still have readers because, well, I have been neglecting everything related to blogging these past couple of weeks, and the reason is that my entire life is currently devoted to putting together wedding invitations. We are so close to finishing our wedding invitations, and yet still so far away, because, well, they are harder than they were supposed to be. Shocking, I know. I think I maybe told some folks, (maybe this lady) that they were pretty easy and even FUN, but hell no; they are neither easy nor fun. They are more like a shit ton of work, and some one needs to establish a labor union for ill-informed brides who think they can do it themselves.

I must, however, give a huge shout out to my future husband, who has gone above and beyond the call of duty in the invitation realm. I literally could not have done it without him. He is magical and wonderful and SMOOCH!

Also, we bought a house and I waffle between excitement and buyer’s remorse, and I’m pretty sure that’s normal. We don’t close until May 30th and we’ve pretty much decided just to let our apartment fall into complete disgrace until that date, because we just can’t be bothered to pretend we even remotely enjoy living there any more. We are counting the days until we say “ba-bye” to that hole of an over-priced dump. Good riddance.

I think, honestly, that the invitations, emergency wedding planning (Brett and I are huge slackers in this department), working, dealing with the “details” of home buying, watching entire seasons of Friday Night Lights, and sitting in traffic have occupied all of my time for the past 2 weeks. It’s no fun and I sort of cannot wait until September arrives, because at that point we will have moved into our house, gotten married, gone on our “honeymoon” and returned to reality. This time right now, it sort of feels surreal.

Now, to turn it back to you all, because I’m nothing if not concerned that I have not read the 3,000 posts in my feeder, tell me what you typically do on a Friday night? Do you paint the town red? Sit at home and wonder how it is that you used to have enough energy to paint the town red on a Friday night? Enjoy family time? Have a standing movie date? Fall asleep?

We sometimes go out, sometimes stay in, sometimes take a dance class, sometimes run errands . . . We have no “usual” I guess.

Shufflin'

Hitting the “shuffle” button on one’s iPod is dangerous. By example, I show you what happened at 12:44pm, Wednesday afternoon:

Iggy Pop – Nightclubbing. (Work is the exact opposite of the correct time to listen to this song.)

How High the Moon – Ella Fitzgerald live in Berlin. (Excellent, except now I want a martini. Work place frowns upon midday Martini having.)

Someone to Love – Fountains of Wayne. (This is actually a pretty great pop song and especially great if you’re a late 20’s or early 30’s person who feels something akin to teenage angst.)

Hansel and Gretl, Dream Pantomine – Arthur Fiedler. (WTF? Seriously, where did I procure this and why?)

Universe & U – KT Tunstall. (Who’s a good little iPod? Who? You, that’s right!)

Stop, Look, Listen (To Your Heart) – Marvin Gay and Diana Ross. (I get weirder by the moment, don’t I?)

Gear Jammer – George Thorogood. (Well, this is just embarrassing)

Distractions – Zero 7. (I would be cool if it was 2002 and my name was Zac Braff.)

Fuzzy – Grant Lee Buffalo. (I’ve never heard of him either.)

Pose – Justin Timberlake. (Don’t be a hater, JT is sexy and you know it!)

Love Me Like a Song – Kimmie Rhodes and Willie Nelson. (This is a great love song)

Come on Closer - Jem. (Suddenly I remember why I cried when The O.C. went off the air.)

Conquest – The White Stripes. (This song makes me want to do a couple of things: Work-out; dance the tango; and bull fight -- clearly, a remarkable song.)

Out of Exile – Audioslave. (Chris Cornell, how I love thee!)

Slim Shady – Eminem. (Oh shit, ALERT! Turn volume down. NSF! I might as well look up porn while I’m at it.)

That song from the Office Space soundtrack when they beat up the fax machine. (Awesome!)

It's hard to be me: version 3,000,048 ***UPDATED***

***UPDATE****
The seller's countered again, which is kind of a relief really, becuase now Brett and I can go back out there and take another look and see if there is a sign or some sort of gut feeling that this house is either the one or not the one. It's really so difficult to say, because I really like the house and the neighborhood, but it's the garage. The garage sucks and I'm not sure there's a way to help it. Stay tunned, we'll know tomorrow.

I’m all nervous today because I’m waiting to here if an offer was accepted on a house that we maybe want to buy, but maybe don’t want to buy. This is so ridiculous. We looked at a house on Monday and we liked it, we really liked it, but of course, it was not perfect. We know that we will never find the “perfect” house, because there is no perfect house in our price-range, so basically we’re looking for a house with the least amount of compromise. The house we looked at on Monday had some really great things about it. It had a big yard that was fenced, it was in a good neighborhood, and it had potential. Unfortunately, it also had a smaller garage, and the garage is very important. But, it did have a big basement and that sort of makes up for a smaller garage, sort of. So, we made an offer.

They countered, but not really, because they stayed at their asking price, but conceded closing costs. Gee, thanks!

We countered, and then they countered again, and then we countered and now here we sit. Waiting. We’re hoping that they don’t take the offer, because I think we’d like another go at this negotiation crap. And when I say we’d like another go, I mean Brett would like another go, because next time, I’m deferring to him. I know that sounds lame, but I just don’t like it and I get too nervous and anxious and I really would just prefer to take second chair on this.

I know, I’m a lawyer, but I’m a more behind the scenes, in the books kind of lawyer, not a negotiator. I’m the one who researches and puts together the papers, not the one who goes to the mattresses. Fuck, I’m way too prone to FREAKING OUT to be any good under pressure.

Also, I’m kind of a rash decision maker. When I was little, I was so shy and lacked confidence to a very unhealthy degree, that I never voiced my opinion or felt comfortable making a decision. I have grown up, and unfortunately, I now overcompensate for my earlier life by making decision too quickly and without enough thought. It’s like I see a decision that needs to be made, and I’m still sort of afraid of it, so I just jump in full bore and get it over with. This is a good tactic for certain fears, but not decision making. I need to step-away from the decisions for a bit and learn how to tackle them with intelligence, not just brut force.

So anyway (tangent city!), here we sit, in this weird place where we maybe have a contract on a house that we like, but will actually be happy if they don’t accept the offer and we can walk away. Perverse? Yes. Typical of me? Certainly.

P.S. My future husband should be sainted for his patience and understanding of my inner workings.

Nine Recommendations

1. Fiber One Cereal Bars. Does your colon need to be blasted? Here’s the trick: Eat a Fiber One cereal bar. Actually, maybe I should instruct you to eat the Fiber One bar directly on the toilet, for it is VERY effective. For some of us, this is a good thing.

2. Betty Crocker “bowls.” They actually taste good and are large enough in serving size to be satisfying, as opposed to your run of the mill frozen box lunch (I’m looking at you Lean Cuisine)

3. Revisit your college CD collection. Party like it’s 1999!

4. Friday Night Lights. The T.V. Show, now on DVD. Addictive.

5. Crawl out of the social isolation hole you’ve been living in and call EVERYONE in your phone book, one by one, night after night, until you’ve reconnected with pals, friends, family and super heroes. (I’m only on night two of this adventure, but so far, so good)

6. Jello Jigglers/Knox Blocks. So good, so cheap, so low calorie.

7. Avon Ideal Shade Smooth Mineral Make-up. Do you like that mineral make-up shit, but dislike shelling out $25 for a tiny jar? Try Avon’s version. It’s just as good at ¼ of the price.

8. Become an expert on something completely random. For example, the mating practices of Canadian Geese.

9. My Morning Jacket, the band, not the apparel.

I'm Back! Now with even more lameness!

You know what happens when you don’t come to work for almost an entire week? You get 3,000 unread blog posts in your reader and you ignore your own blog completely. It’s kind of awesome to take a wee break, because now it’s like I’m totally rich in slacking off fodder and don’t have to worry that no one will have posted by the time I need a brain break because, like I said, I have 30,000 posts to catch up on. Yippee!

Brett’s parents were in town, and it was kind of awesome. I love them, they love me, we’re a happy family.

Seriously.

The biggest development since I’ve been gone is that I’ve started watching this little show called American Idol. Oh yes, it’s true. Let me assure you, I was hooked by the very fist off pitch note I heard. Here are my thoughts:

The little guy, David Archulettuce or whatever, has an unreal voice, but he’s a little too up-with-people for me. However, I think he will win.

I totally think that the guy from Georgia who mysteriously has a British accent (I’m sure this was explained earlier on, but like I said, I just tuned in) is hot and should win even if he isn’t the most talented. He reminds me of that guy from the long lost sitcom “Wings.” (Yes, my dorkiness has no limits).

That one girl, the Faith Hill wannabe, is crafty, what with the patriotic song bullshit, but she’s BORING and annoying and we would not be friends.

I like the girl from Ireland, but I fear she is to go tonight.

The rest are not memorable enough for me to comment upon.

I adore Dolly Parton.

What are your predictions for tonight?

Did I really just write an entire post on AI? Did I really just call it “AI?”

The Bracket Racket

Here’s something weird (weirder than normal): I just learned how to spell “Pittsburgh.” Somehow, I have spent 30 years NOT spelling Pittsburgh, because honestly (and by honestly, I mean embarrassingly) I never knew there was an “h” on the end. To all of you who live in Pittsburgh, I’m so sorry.

I was spelling “Pittsburgh” because I was filling out my bracket for the NCAA tournament. Granted, I have no idea what I’m doing because I’ve seen a grand total of 7 minutes of college basketball this year, but nevertheless, I’ve got the March Madness.

You see, Brett and I will be spending this weekend with some folks who care about such things, and who are having us over expressly for the purpose of drinking beer and watching basketball and I refuse to take the roll of resident Clueless Girl. I plan to be invested.

This should be easy as long as my alma mater wins. Go Warriors (yes, I know they’re the Golden Eagles now, but that’s stupid). Beyond Marquette, I don’t have the foggiest notion of who’s who and why I should advance one team over another. I mean, there are some gimmes, like the fact that I will NOT advance Oral Roberts University on principle and I can’t advance Austin Peay because, quite frankly, I don’t even know how to say that second word. As for the other teams, HELP! Are any of you filling out bracket nonsense? Who do you like? Instruct me!

P.S. There’s a reason I procrastinate; I work well under pressure.

Sunset

I'm lacking in a proper "work ethic" so I put off today what can be done tomorrow, and now it's tomorrow and I'm all sorts of fucked, so let's all look at a purdy picture of a sunset in Judith Gap, Montana (courtesy of this guy) because life is short, and there's a world beyond the office.

bringin' da noise

Brett and I often discuss the fact that Chicago seems to have very little relation (beside geographical, political, technical) with Illinois. This became even clearer today when I had to call Springfield (the capital) and inquire as to what exact documentation I needed to bring with me to the 10th circle of hell, A.K.A. the DMV, to register my car (yes, I know I’ve lived here 8 months and have yet to switch plates, mind your own bees’ wax). The man who answered had a thick southern drawl and called me “ma’am” repeatedly.

When did I move to the South?

The thing about Illinois is that Chicago is up around the top, the tippity-top, of the state, but Illinois descends deep into the middle of the country, meeting up with such states as Missouri and Kentucky. These states are most decidedly Southern and the fact that Illinois shares a border with said states makes it possibly Southern itself. I mean, I think there’s a Waffle House down there and I swear there was a comedian or some such who claimed that it wasn’t the Mason-Dixon Line that determined North v. South, but the Waffle House Line. (anyone know who said that?)

Illinois seems to be a state that defies classification. It’s got Chicago, which is decidedly Midwestern, but if you go visit Carbondale (southern most tip) you will feel like you’re in Arkansas. I know this because I’ve been to Carbondale and I wondered if we drove too far.

If I lived outside of the Chicago metro area (which I will in very short order, but not by much) I would be pissed that Chicago lead the legislature and ate up most of the money. It would royally piss me off if I had to pay higher taxes so that the “L” could keep running, even though I never used the “L” and would really instead like to have the potholes in the highway fixed, or you know build a NEW highway. It would also piss me off that my Senator, Mr. Obama, took a plane or a helicopter (I don’t remember which) to Springfield because he didn’t want to live anywhere in Illinois but Chicago. Oh, and he used taxpayer funds to do this. (too lazy to verify this, but I heard it was true)

Brett and I are leaving the delineated confines of Chicago for a number of reasons. First of all, it’s easier for me to be far away from the office than for him to be far away from school (what with the working from home bidness), and second of all, suburbs kind of suck and we can’t afford to have a yard in the city. Do any of you ever watch “What you get for the Money?” Chicago real estate is obscene. It pains me to think of the one room condo we could afford in the city, whereas out in the sticks we can have an estate (not really, but at least a yard).

Also, I feel like the rest of Illinois is the much ignored and over looked younger sibling. The poor thing is working so hard, being such a good little state and no one is paying any attention to it. We’re just eating all the corn it consistently produces and then tossing the husks on the floor for it to pick up. It deserves some attention, and damnit, we’re gonna give it to it. I plan to put the “noise” back in Illinois[e].

This is what passes for a post around here

This buying a house shit is ALL CONSUMING. Please forgive me for not doing anything blog related and being silent as a church mouse on your blogs. It’s just that I’m obsessed and I am pretty sure you do NOT want to hear about it. Here’s how it’s going:
look at a house in our price range
determine owners are either blind or crazy
look at a house outside of our price range
feel at home
cue call to lender, promise first born
lather, rinse, repeat.

BORING.

I don’t remember being like this the last time I bought a house. I guess it’s just that last time I actually liked the apartment I was in. Now I feel like our apartment is sucking the life out of my soul every moment I spend in the darn thing. Brett and I have both determined that the apartment is ruining our lives, one popcorn ceiling kernel at a time. (Can you say “built in the 80’s?”)