28 December 2006

God, I love Mary Lucia.

When Mary Lucia starts her shift at The Current every day, I not only know I'm very close to leaving the office, but I'm assured she will play at least one song that absolutely knocks my freakin' socks off. Today is no exception.

The Playlist
Thursday, December 28, 2006

3 - 4 PM
3:33 Prince - Purple Rain
3:29 Mark Mallman - True Love
3:26 The White Stripes - Fell in Love with a Girl
3:22 Teddy Bears - Ahead of My Time
3:16 Steve Wynn & The Miracle 3 - Killing Me
3:13 Mike Doughty - No Peace Los Angeles
3:08 The Poems - See the Sunrise
3:01 El Michels Affair - Walk On By

*sigh* Is it time for another Purple Rain party?

26 December 2006

A reminder.

If I ever wonder (or anyone else wonders, for that matter) why Booty Call Matt occupies the position he does and not something loftier, I get a well-needed reminder from him every now and again.

Sometimes he calls to make plans to hang out in advance, much like he did last night. Or early this morning, actually. He wanted to plan ahead to hang out with me tonight. He'd call me today. He hasn't called. It's a shame. I could have used a little distraction.

Christmas was alright, but my family really wears on me. I was two minutes late getting home from a family friend's house to leave for Mass on Christmas Eve and my brother, sister and dad all yelled at me the whole drive to church. I guess I should have just stayed with my friend's family and drank and had fun. Perhaps next year will be the year that I finally get the balls to tell my dad that I'm not going to Mass.

There was a little part of me hoping that Whatshisfuckingface would be home for the holidays and get in touch. I doubt that will happen. I'm broke and have to host the New Year's party that will be sparsely attended, I'm sure. And I'm broke for a while. Today I found out a good friend's dad has a brain tumor that is likely malignant and he probably has six months to a year to live.

But it wasn't all bad. I got some nice gifts. I was able to see two of my very good friends (and one's new baby) from home over the holiday weekend. I only work two days this week and should be able to spend some more time with friends, including another friend who has a new baby. I think I came in third in fantasy football, which should mean I broke even and improved over last year.

It'll just be nice to get the holidays over with so I can go on with getting past the post-holiday blues.

19 December 2006

Kiss my ass, cancer.

This morning I had my last appointment with my endocrinologist. I was diagnosed with papillary cancer in August of 1994. I was 20 years old at the time. Everything after the initial diagnosis happened pretty quickly, and at the end of that month, I had my thyroid removed.

Actually, they weren't even 100 percent sure that the tumor was cancerous. I had to keep going back for visits and tests and every time I was in to see the doctor they told me, "There's about a 2 percent chance of this being anything to worry about." Figures I'd beat the odds that way. I had to have my biopsy done (a hollow needle was stuck in my neck) in a tiny room full of med students (the University of Minnesota hospital is a teaching hospital, after all!). There was even a possibility that the tumor wasn't cancerous, but they couldn't be sure until they'd removed the right side of my thyroid and tested it during surgery. Turned out it was, so they whipped out the rest of it and some lymph nodes, just to be on the safe side. I had one treatment with radioactive iodine a couple of months later to make sure everything was removed.

Knowing what so many other people have gone through with their cancer (including, most recently, Whatshisfuckingface and his throat cancer), I find it hard to really think of my papillary cancer as real cancer. But it was real and I had a scare about a year ago because my doctor in Mankato refused to give me a month's worth of drugs to get me through until I could be seen by my endocrinologist. My thyroid started to regenerate. Thankfully it was on the left (noncancerous side) side, and after being properly medicated, it shrunk.

My time in Mankato produced several setbacks on my road to being cured, unfortunately. It was tough enough living there, but the things I went through when they screwed up my medication levels were horrible. Everything worked out, though. And now, I no longer have to see my endocrinologist. I can have it checked out when I go in for my gynecological exam in the fall every year (which is, incidentally, how the tumor was found). I'll be on thyroid replacement hormone forever, but that was a possibility anyway. But for now, I can kind of feel like a normal person again.

18 December 2006

Public bathroom peegasms.

The fun in the public bathroom here at work never ends. And this isn't even about my not being able to use my normal stall because when I went in there for the first time today there was ... a foreign substance on the seat.

No, this is about the woman who clomped into the bathroom just now and claimed the stall next to me. It sounded like she was a bit rushed or flustered. However, I had no idea what was coming. I was trying to ignore her, but she was stomping her feet back and forth when she sat down. Then came the moans. The "Oh, man!" that followed her fart was priceless.

Now, don't get me wrong; I enjoy a peegasm nearly every day when I finally get home from my sometimes-lengthy bus ride. I drink so much water during the day and have such a tiny bladder, that even when I pee right before I walk out the door, I still have glorious peegasms about an hour later every day.

However, I have my peegasms at home. Sometimes when friends are around, but that's usually when I've been drinking. This woman must have had to go bad. Then again, she may be one of those nasty, no-shame having people who yak away on their mobile phones while in the loo. Or loudly exclaim that her deodorant isn't working or that she grabbed one of her daughter's pads instead of whatever it was she intended to grab. I'm able to have silent peegasms in public bathrooms. I'm able to understand what that woman is feeling, for sure. But I really don't need to share in her moment of ecstasy.

I'm kind of looking forward to getting home today, though.

14 December 2006

City Dweller.

Last night I took the 6 home and got off (no, not that way) at Lake and Hennepin so I could go to the bank and run some other errands on my way home. After the bank, I stopped in to Cheapo looking for a CD for a friend. Then it was off to Rainbow to pick up supplies for the baking I'm doing tonight.

As I was walking the last bit of my eight-block jaunt from the grocery store, bags in hand, I just had this image of myself as a city dweller. It feels weird, because even though I've lived in Minneapolis for the bulk of the 14 years since I left home, I never really felt like I was a part of the city.

I think all that changed when I moved back to Minneapolis after two years in Mankato. I'd never really lived in a neighborhood (save for Dinkytown) that felt like a neighborhood. And Dinkytown didn't even feel like that much of a neighborhood; more like an extension of campus. When I moved back, though, I was in Uptown. I lived on a major street with tons of bars, restaurants and shops within a few blocks. I got into the habit of walking up the street for groceries or to grab a bite to eat. Why drive my car and lose a good parking spot? And now that I live on Lyndale, I basically just traded the more trendy spots on Hennepin for a more blue collar set of establishments. I like that.

I run into friends on the bus or on the street. I see my neighbors at the grocery store. I see people who ride my bus when I get coffee. My neighbors and fellow bus-riders were at all the summer block parties I attended. I recognize people at shows that I've seen at other venues watching different bands. I really feel like I've made a place for myself. Maybe that's why in the two-plus years that I've been back, I finally feel like Minneapolis is my home. And I'm really, really happy about it.

12 December 2006

The Bob Saget Fan Club.

I know, I know: no one cares about your fantasy football team. Oh, wait. You didn't know that The Bob Saget Fan Club is the name of my fantasy football team? I'm truly sorry if I got your hopes up, Dear Reader. And if you stumbled upon this blog looking for the Bob Saget fan club, well, you've got bigger fish to fry, my friend.

Back to the lecture at hand:

I managed to somehow make it to my league's semifinals for the second-straight year. Thanks to Steven Jackson, I was able to pull off a come-from-behind upset last night. This is just my third year of fantasy football. I fear my initial season's second-place finish might be the best I ever do. Beginner's luck, you know? How could anyone know that Drew Bennett would blow up that year? I mean, I only picked him because I thought he was cute.

Reaching the Super Bowl looks like a very long shot for The Bob Saget Fan Club, since my opponent has LT and not only won our division, but is the number one seed in the playoffs.

But this is The Bob Saget Fan Club. And God is on my side.

10 December 2006

Rockin' the kitchen.

I made lasagna for the first time ever today. I've never made it myself from my own recipe (or one that I found on my own, anyway) until today. I used the homemade marinara sauce that I cooked up yesterday. And hot damn, it's tasty! The marinara sauce was better this time around than it was the first time I made it.

I'm sure I'll be sick of it by the end of the week, since I plan on taking it for lunch every day. Such is life. And I can always freeze the rest. Whoo!

07 December 2006

Holiday obligations, or why am I sending a card to this person I haven't spoken to in years?

I go through this dance every year. Who gets a card? Why do I exchange cards with people I talk to for a few minutes once a year? Why do I keep sending cards to people who don't send them to me?

For whatever reason, this year the whole Christmas card thing is like pulling teeth. Usually I can bang them all out in two sittings, but I'm only about halfway through and this is my third run. I think I might be starting a bit early this year. I have three cousins in college who will be coming home next weekend and I wanted to get theirs out before they leave school. Maybe that's it? I have this window where I can get into the holiday spirit and I think I'm trying to get in too early.

I have such a hard time finding cards, too. I don't want them to be religious or lame. The funny ones are hard to come by. Though, I think I found some good ones at Target today. I wish I'd waited to buy them the first go-round because the new ones are much better than the ones I just finished up. Oh well.

And shopping for gifts? Don't even get me started. Well, I did start. I bought one present today, only because I need it for Saturday. I'll have to get another one sent to my aunt in Chicago, but otherwise I'll probably buy them all on the 22nd. Hey -- at least it's not on Christmas Eve!

04 December 2006

Not. Funny.

The New York Times seems to think Minnesota is the perfect fit for Barry Bonds.


Okay, so the Twins don't sign big-name free agents. Sure, they get a couple of mentions here and there during the winter meetings and whatnot. Nothing every comes of it, though. And it says right in the article that Terry Ryan has expressed no interest in Bonds. Well, no public interest anyway.

I shouldn't have to worry. But dear God, what if this is the year that Old Man Pohlad loosens the purse strings? You know, to thank the fans for coming out and supporting the team. And for that new stadium. Hahahahahahahahaha. Right.

I said I would move out of state if the Timberwolves drafted Christian Laettner, and dammit, I made good on that promise. Granted, I was already planning on moving to North Carolina for college, but still. I don't know if I could root for a team that employed Barry Bonds, even if I've loved them my entire life.

Of course, I eventually was able to look at Sam Cassell when he played for the Wolves. I embraced him and Spree.

All this worrying is useless, though. It's just talk.

03 December 2006

Tall guys love bands.

This is the only reasonable conclusion I can come to after yet another night of of seeing a show with my sightlines obliterated by very tall guys.

I have no idea why this happens. But it happens and it happens pretty consistently to me. Now, I'm tall for a girl. I'm 5'9". Most of the time when I'm out on the town, I feel as if I'm surrounded by guys who are my height or shorter. When I see a show, though, it's a completely different story. Every guy in Minneapolis who is 6'2" or taller (and doesn't play for the Timberwolves or Gophers, I guess) comes out to see shows and they all like to stand in front of me.

Last night at Bob Schneider's show at the Fine Line was no different. I even wore heels. I had to have been between 5'11" and 6' and I still couldn't see shit on the stage unless I managed to get a window between a couple of the guys standing in front of me.

I don't understand it. I even noticed when I went out in Mankato that the guys there seemed taller than the guys I usually see out and about in Minneapolis. I'd rather they go out on a regular night, but I guess I'm glad to know that there are guys taller than me living in town and going out to shows. Now, if I can only get them to follow the "tall people in the back, short people in the front" guideline that seems to make sense to no one but me and my sister.