31 January 2008

Canned.

I had an inkling that it could be coming, so I wasn't completely blindsided when the boss man came into my office (after making me sit through a stupid fucking meeting, of course) and said, "I have bad news. I have to let you go."

That was that. Oh, but I can use him as a reference. There's just not enough money. I wonder whose fault that is. Could it be yours for never following up on the proposals you asked me to send out? Oh, and I'm sure you will really start trying in May to bring money in. We all heard that one before and look where that got the organization.

He gave me my paycheck (pay period ends today) and told me I could leave whenever I wanted or stay for ... I don't know. However long I wanted? Uh, yeah. I packed up my shit, got my stuff off the computer (not much, as I'd needed writing samples already) and took off. They're not screwing me out of my vacation, either, which is good.

Honestly, I don't know how they can get the work done that is out there with one full-time and one part-time person. But frankly, I don't give a shit either. It is no longer my concern.

I was a lot less upset than I imagined I would be every time I've envisioned this scenario over the years. And I've envisioned it a lot, because pretty much every job I've ever had was in jeopardy at some point. I managed to get out of those situations before anything went down, though.

I should have been more on the ball. I should have seen the signs earlier than two weeks ago. At least I saw the signs two weeks ago and started looking for a new job then. Actually, I have an interview on Monday. Of course, this means I can't get shitty drunk at my Super Bowl party on Sunday. Crap! I did get shitty drunk last night, though. Of all the nights for my yoga class to have been canceled, last night was not the one I needed.

Right now, I'm actually more worried about what the hell I'm going to do with myself all day than I am worried about money. Sure, it'll be nice to have a few days off (I've already got today and tomorrow pretty much full of activities), but after that I'll start going nuts. Daytime TV makes me insane. Guess it'll be just music while I'm job searching. I can also spend a lot of time at the gym with the old people during the day. Fun!

30 January 2008

So long, Supernatural.

Yeah, so it's not totally official yet, but Johan Santana is gone. I'm kind of surprised at how little I care. But I have been a Twins fan long enough to know that Old Man Pohlad would never loosen his death grip on the purse strings of the franchise to actually pay to keep all of the great players around.

Unlike the Kevin Garnett trade, I believed this one was going to happen from the moment I heard the first rumors about it. I mean, with KG, rumors of his being traded surfaced all the time and nothing ever happened. Sure, I was also in denial about it. But this was the Twins talking about trading away a player they wouldn't pay enough to keep. It was a no-brainer.

I didn't have as much time to get attached to Supernatural as I did to KG, either. Though I did have a similar level of platonic love for each -- that he's-so-adorable-I-want-to-shrink-him-down-and-put-him-in-my-pocket kind of love. I suppose this means that I will be able to watch Supernatural pitch if I get the opportunity.

Besides, F-Bomb is back and ready to pitch after his Tommy John surgery. That has me awfully stoked. It'll be nice to watch him pitch for a few years in a Twins uniform before he moves on to a team willing to shell out money, too. Fuck you, Old Man Pohlad!

29 January 2008

Attention Interwebs: I do not have a penis.

What is it with the spam I get for this blog's e-mail account? All of it -- I shit you not -- all of it is about increasing the size of my penis. The spam I get on my Yahoo account and my regular Gmail account is varied. Maybe someone is trying to sell me Vicodin (yes, please!) or Xanax. Perhaps they're trying to get me to refinance my home. Good luck with that, suckers. Sometimes, it seems that I have a secret crush or a booty call or a secret lover e-mail waiting for me somewhere. Delightful!

But at iwastoldtherewouldbebacon@gmail.com? We only get penis e-mails. Is "I was told there would be bacon" the hip, new way to express your disappointment upon getting into a dude's pants and being greeted by a tiny ween? You know what? If it isn't, it really should be.

Here's a sampling from today. "FuckstickSignificantAntony" makes me giggle.

Increasing your penile size is your sure way towards s'e_xual health and well-being

As your dic'k gets larger, no woman will say "no"

See your dic'k swelling day by day!

Proven effect for your pen!s enlargement

Watch your thing getting bigger day by day!

New product to increase your male stick

Add more length and volume to your pen!le measurements!

CockKing-sizeAlfonzo

FuckstickSignificantAntony


Of course, I would imagine this post will significantly increase the amount of penis spam I get on a daily basis. I'm a genius like that.

28 January 2008

Inky.

The tattoo bug has bitten me and is currently burrowing under my skin. Okay, so that happened probably well before I got my first tattoo at 19. But I'm feeling it big time all of a sudden. It seems I haven't had a major itch to get more ink for more than a year-and-a-half. Honestly, I'm impressed that I was able to quell the urge at the time. I don't even think I considered it last year for my birthday.

It's been more than three years since I got my last tattoo. I really am due for another one. However, this is probably a bad time to be thinking about getting a new one, what with me starting a job search and all. The three options on file in my brain could all be a bit difficult to to cover up. The bracelet on my right wrist would be tough for sure. Given that I tend to wear my hair up to give myself some air of pulled-togetherness on interviews, the Celtic tree of life on the back of my neck would be a particularly poor choice at the moment. The family crest on the inside of my right forearm might be the best option.

I've been toying with the family crest for a while now. I'd thought about putting it on the outside of my left ankle, but that just wasn't working for me. Plus, there is a good bit of yellow in it, so I have never been sure it would work all that well with my skin tone. At least I've finally decided where to put it. God, I think the inside of the forearm is the sexiest place for a tattoo. It took me a while to think it was hot on a woman and quite frankly, I'm not entirely sure it will be a good look for me. But I can't think of a better place to put it. I don't want any on my upper arms. With the geckos in the middle of my back, I think it would look weird to have something on either shoulder.

The tattoos I've gotten up to this point have been in the order I got the ideas for them. If I keep with this method, the bracelet would be next; then the family crest and then the Celtic tree of life. There's no good reason for doing it that way, I guess. Other than my long-held practice of making sure that when I get a tattoo, I've thought long and hard about it. After six, though, I think I'm no longer in danger of making a stupid, poorly-reasoned decision on a tattoo.

Perhaps the best idea will be to wait to get inked again after my employment situation is more secure. It will be a reward for me; it gives me something to work toward. And a little extra time to decide between the bracelet (I need design ideas for that, anyway) and the family crest wouldn't kill me either.

Oh, but I long to hear the buzz of the needle and feel it biting into my skin. It's delicious pain.

27 January 2008

How can I live without it?

No football today. I feel lost. What the fuck am I going to do with my Sunday? I've already been to the gym and SuperTarget. I do have to take a shower, but that won't take up much of my day.

There is money in my checking account for once. I could go shopping. However, I think I'd rather gnaw off my own hand than go shopping. My laundry is done and my apartment is clean. Baking is not really an option, as I don't have room in my freezer for anything and the Super Bowl party is a whole week away. The job search is out there waiting.

I don't think I usually feel this aimless on the no-football Sunday before the Super Bowl. Not sure what's going on with me. It's not like I can't find ways to entertain myself on Sunday once the Super Bowl is over. There's basketball and soon enough there'll be baseball. Maybe I'm antsy today because it's kinda sunny and nearly 40.

There's not shit on TV today, either. I'm watching Michigan and Michigan State right now, but there's only a half left. Maybe I could clear off the DVR. I've been meaning to reorganize my underwear drawer. I have a book to read ... none of those things sound very appealing, though.

Looks like drinking is my only option. I should get in the shower and make some calls, then I suppose.

25 January 2008

Burning a hole in my pocket.

I'm itching to spend some money, y'all. My state tax refund showed up in my checking account yesterday and I got paid today. Whooo! But there's so much I need and want -- where do I start?

(Incidentally, I always feel a huge amount of pressure to post something awesome the day after I've been linked on Mnspeak. Though, I guess I'd already posted yesterday's entry about the Wolves right around the time that the Mnspeak post appeared. Still, you've got a stupid entry about the Wolves and a stupid entry that's going to be about, well, shopping? I guess we'll see when I get to the end of it. Sorry!)

Actually, I already know the first things I'll be buying today. I'm going to hit MAC after work because I need a new blush. And while I'm there, I may be tempted to buy new eye shadows and lip glosses. Okay, I will be tempted and I will give in. Getting new bras and undies is always awesome (and I will be getting those soon), but nothing makes me feel like a brand-new woman they way new makeup does. I can't get too much at MAC, though. I spent some time yesterday fucking around at Sephora.com because I need some new Urban Decay eye shadows. And that'll be a pretty penny when I'm done.

The only reason I'm really going to MAC is because I'll be in the area because I need to hit Penzeys as I'm nearly out of Herbes de Provence. I just can't have that. And if I'm going to be there, I should probably get some other spices and blends I've had my eye on for a while.

If I get a bunch of new spices, though, I'm going to have a problem. I've run out of room in my two wee spice racks. Do I run out to Ikea tonight to buy another one? It seems really silly to go all the way to Ikea and go through the maze just to get a $3 spice rack. But the 'rents are coming to town tomorrow for my nephew's basketball game and they're bringing the baker's rack they gave me for Christmas, so they'll be at my place and dad could drill the holes in my wall so I could hang the spice rack. God, just typing this paragraph is making my head hurt. Fuck that shit. I'll make do for a while on the spices. Maybe I'll even have more room somewhere else in the kitchen after I get the baker's rack filled with stuff.

All of this brings me to a dilemma -- the idea of new makeup plus a little extra money (and warmer temperatures!) makes me want to abandon my hermit-like ways of the past few weeks and go out. I didn't get to have sushi Happy Hour with the Future Mrs. Dirk last week and I'm still craving sushi. I'm also hankering for a visit to Liquor Lyle's. I wonder if there are any good local rock shows this weekend ...

Oh, but the dilemma. Yes. New makeup makes me want to go out, but new spices and my hopefully newly-organized kitchen might make me want to stay home and cook. KayGee sent me a recipe a while ago for a bourbon quick bread that I've been wanting to try (note to self: bourbon supply is perilously low and whiskey supply has been decimated -- get thee to the liquor store tonight) and I've not done any baking in a while.

Maybe I'll compromise and put on a bunch of eyeliner while I make bourbon bread and get drunk. Suddenly, the possibilities of life seem endless.

24 January 2008

Back-to-back.

Holy shit! How 'bout those Timberwolves? Not only did they win two games in a row for the first time this season, they beat Phoenix for the second time this season. Phoenix! The same Phoenix with Steve Nash and Amare Stoudemire. No, seriously -- it really happened.

I'm cautiously optimistic. It kind of seems like they have turned a corner. Of course, I've been wrong about that before. Let's keep in mind, too, that they're doing this without Randy Foye or Theo Ratliff. Honestly, I'd completely forgotten Ratliff was even on the team for a month or so there. They showed him on the bench a few games ago and I said, "Oh that's right, he does play for the Wolves." However, I believe both are on the way back. Well, I know Foye is. I thought I heard Anthony LaPanta or someone saying in the post-game show last night that they'd received good news about Ratliff. So, yay for that.

If the Wolves keep playing the way they have the last few games, the rest of the season might actually be worth watching. This, of course, is coming from the girl who watches games whenever she can anyway. Granted, I do turn the channel when it gets too ugly to watch. But still, I'm putting in the effort here.

Unfortunately, I won't be able to watch the game tomorrow night. They play the Celtics and if I watch it will only end in tears. It's been months and I still can't bear to watch KG. I was thinking last night while I was watching the game about how much I miss watching him play. But I just can't do it yet. I still turn the channel when I'm watching SportsCenter and they come to Celtics highlights. For whatever reason, I seem to have the sound off on the TV and music on whenever commercials come on, so all I have to do is look away for a few seconds to get through that.

I did try to watch a bit of the Celtics and Bulls ... last month? Yeah it was probably December. I thought I was ready. The game hadn't even started yet -- they were just getting ready to tip off and the sight of him on the court in that uniform was just too much. I couldn't stand it. Feel free to mock me. It is completely fucking ridiculous. But I just can't seem to help it.

It's like a painful break up; the only way to get over it is to pretend he just doesn't exist. Maybe in a few years I'll be able to watch again and remember the good times. In the meantime, though, I'll enjoy my new team and all the potential ahead of us.

23 January 2008

A Minnesotan blogging about the weather.

How terribly fucking novel, I know. But Jesus, this cold is sapping my will to live. Or my will to leave my bed, at least.

It's tough getting out of bed when I have a bitterly cold walk and wait for the bus facing me. I need someone to drag my ass out of bed in the mornings. I'm tired of my feet being so cold my toes hurt. I'm tired of wearing a hat that's too tight. The fogged-up glasses. The layers and layers of clothes that leave me feeling like the Sta-Puft Marshmallow Man. Dry hands and chapped lips. My breath freezing in my hair or scarf. And it's so fucking dirty everywhere.

Of course, I had no problem getting up and going to yoga on Saturday morning when it was -13 with a windchill of ... I don't remember. Like -30? It was fucking cold. But I think I told everyone I talked to on Saturday that it really didn't seem all that bad outside. Funny how my attitude changes on the weekend and I'm making the choice to head out into the cold instead of being forced to do it.

It doesn't really help that this is the worst month of the year. In fact, the most depressing day of the year was on Monday. Sure, it's bullshit junk science. I mean, as far as I'm concerned, pretty much every day in January is the most depressing day of the year. There's really no need to pick just one. And it doesn't help that I'm stressed about my job, I'm broke and I'm still bitter about not being able to take time off after Christmas.

Help is on the way, though. It's going to warm up on Friday and into the weekend -- 25 will probably feel like 50 after the past several days. And February is just around the corner! My tax refund is on the way. This means I can buy my Wii! I mean, if I can find one. I get to go to Happy Hour with Muffy and JP next week. Just a week and a half until the Super Bowl. I'm trying to hoard my vacation days, but I can spare one for the day after the Super Bowl. Or at the very least I could work from home. Before I know it, my birthday will be here and things will be on the upswing all the way through toward Spring.

I just have to hold on for a little longer. I could use a hug, though. And booze. Lots of booze.

22 January 2008

The things you do for love.

I got up at 6:00 yesterday on my day off to hang out with my nephew. He had no school. However, that didn't mean teachers (including my sister) didn't have to work. This is my cue to step in and be a good aunt.

Did I stop with just making sure he didn't burn the house down? Oh no. I took him to see Alvin and the Chipmunks. Jesus H. Christ. What a steaming pile of shit. How hard do you have to suck to take David Cross and make him painfully unfunny? And let me tell you, a movie like that is only enhanced by two screaming babies and various parents yelling at their various spawn.

But the kid liked the movie and that's what is important. I'm still a little pissed I didn't get to play any Guitar Hero, though.

21 January 2008

An equation.

Wrong sports bra + University of South Carolina t-shirt featuring the word "Cocks" splashed across the tits = One Classy Broad whose pects and upper back are killing her.

Lesson learned: Do not pack your gym bag after two Bloody Marys.

19 January 2008

Hibernation.

Why has everyone who called me today asked, "Are you going out tonight?" No, motherfuckers. It's cold as hell out there. Actually, I was out this morning to go to yoga and then Super Target and then back out again to go to Rainbow because I didn't get everything I needed at Super Target, and it really didn't seem all that bad to me.

I'd honestly expected yoga class to be sparsely populated, and it seemed like it was going to be. The studio was once again 57 degrees, so our substitute instructor moved us in to the TMA room. TMA is Bally's martial arts program. But all I can ever think of when I see "TMA" is "Too Much Ass." We ended up crammed in that room like sardines. What the fuck? Why does everyone and their brother come out when it's butt-ass cold? It was a pretty shitty class.

The instructor likes to come around and correct your pose if you need it. She came to me when we were in the resting period while doing locust pose. You're to rest your cheek/ear on the mat while resting. Well, my boobs prevent me from doing lots of things in yoga, and resting my cheek on the mat after holding locust for a while is one of them. She was pushing on my back, trying to get me further down into the mat and I nearly busted up laughing. "Sister, you can push all you want, but the rack hiding under me isn't going anywhere. Maybe if you stood on my back?"

I've been terribly domestic with the rest of my day. I ran errands. I cleaned. Oh, Lord, how I needed to clean. It was like the Dust Bowl up in this bitch. Or the Dust Bunny Bowl, I guess. Then I ran more errands because I didn't get everything I needed at Super Target. The whole fucking point of me going out of my way to go to Super Target was so that I minimized the time I had to be outside. Why I ever bother to try to outsmart myself is beyond me.

Keeping with the domestic theme, I made myself a rather involved dinner tonight. I made these Spicy Black Bean Cakes. Which really aren't that spicy at all, considering there are two jalapeƱos in the actual cakes and one in the lime sour cream. Jesus H. Christ, these things were a ton more labor intensive than I thought they'd be. It is not easy to grate raw sweet potatoes, even if you're using the bitchin' box grater your siblings gave you for Christmas. I even made my own breadcrumbs, motherfuckers! Okay, so I couldn't find them at Super Target and forgot to look when I went back out. But fresh breadcrumbs are totally better anyway.

It was a good thing I made those black bean cakes. I've had like two glasses of wine and I'm drunk. That kind of thing is bound to happen when all you've had to eat all day was a bowl of corn flakes and a granola bar. Feels like one of those nights I'm going to be playing drunk DJ. Yay! I need a night alone, anyway. Last weekend was family-tastic. I may or may not be hosting people for football tomorrow, after I go to the gym and then have lunch with my sister and nephew. Next weekend I think I have plans with The Boy I Currently Like and probably the sushi happy hour that was supposed to happen today, but didn't. And my nephew's basketball game. The following week? Super Bowl Party, bitches!

Yeah, it's a drunk hermit DJ night up in here.

18 January 2008

Things lost.

I've mentioned the fact that I've been losing weight in posts here and there over the past few months. I can't be positive, because I'm not sure exactly where I was when I started (I can't even pinpoint when this all started because the changes have been pretty gradual), but I believe I'm in the neighborhood of 30 pounds lost. It'll probably be a few more once Aunt Flo leaves town and takes her five pounds of water weight with her. Fuck that bitch and her baggage.

Obviously, I notice it when I put something on and realize it's become so big there's no way I could wear it out in public. Other people have begun to notice, too. At Christmas I heard many comments from my relatives. At my mom's birthday party last weekend, I heard it even more. Including someone saying (I think it was one of my aunts, but I was really drunk and can't for the life of me be sure), "You're getting so tiny!" This is hilarious because a) I'm so not getting tiny and b) no matter how much weight I lose, there is no way I will ever be tiny. I'll always be tall and have big feet, broad shoulders and big boobs.

Most of the time, the changes have been gradual. I notice clothes are getting bigger; I catch a glimpse of my arm inadvertently flexing while I'm putting lotion on after a shower and notice more definition than I remember. And then I flex some more because I 'm a huge dork. There are things I can do in yoga that I couldn't do six months ago. I up the speed on the treadmill faster and go faster all the time. You know, that kind of stuff.

Some of the changes seem to be really sudden, though. I put on one of the tank tops I wear to yoga that has been nearly skin-tight the entire time I've owned it and one day it's all loose. How did that happen?

The worst sudden change, though? My ass seems to have shrunk considerably in the last week or so. Where does ass go to all of a sudden? And why? I do yoga. I lift weights. My ass should not be going anywhere. This is most unacceptable. I do not want my white girl ass back. The Cheating Asshole ex-boyfriend used to tease me about my flat, white girl ass. Somewhere along the line, my ass filled out because a guy I dated a year or two later often remarked on the junk I had in my trunk and was prone to punctuate these comments with a smack of said junk.

I thought maybe it was because the jeans I was wearing were too big. I tried the pair that was freshly washed and shrunk as much as possible in the dryer. That helped, but not as much as I'd hoped. Maybe I just need to finally suck it up and buy new jeans a size smaller. But I'm trying to hold off another month on that. My underwear seem to fit differently. The curve of my ass looks different in the sweatpants I sometimes wear around the house. My ass feels different in my jeans.

What is going on? I know my body is changing, but this was one change I didn't expect. I guess I'm going to have to start focusing on my glutes more when I'm lifting. There's a new squat machine at the gym. I'll see if I can't start using that. There's also the "Butt Blaster" machine, but honestly, I can't even look at that thing without giggling. I highly doubt I could use it effectively while I'm gasping for air because I'm trying not to melt into a puddle of laughter.

Besides, my tits aren't going anywhere. Why my ass? I'd willingly give up a little boob to keep some of the butt. I will compromise with you, Mother Nature. Let's just sit down and talk about this like rational adults.

17 January 2008

Like Pavlov's fucking dogs.

After four years of Golden Gopher Basketball season tickets when I was in undergrad, I'm still conditioned 10 years later to think "Oooh! Time to pee!" when I hear that second horn signaling a timeout.

You trained me well, Clem Haskins.

Underoos!

There was a discussion a couple of days ago on Jezebel about Underoos. God, I fucking loved those Wonder Woman Underoos. I wore the hell out of mine. There are many pictures of me and my sister wearing our Wonder Woman Underoos and my little brother in his Spider Man set.

I was so into Wonder Woman as a wee lass that it was my Halloween costume for several years. The first year it was the store-bought, plastic, highly-flammable version. But the following year, my mom made me the costume (she actually made our costumes for several years ... my second-favorite was Princess Leia). We used gold spray paint on the edge of paper plates to create the bracelets and I even had a golden lasso. We'd just remodeled the living room and the cords for the drapes were gold. Sweet, huh?

So, imagine my delight when reading through the comments on the Jezebel post and seeing a link to this. Oh. My. God. Wonder Woman Underoos for grown-ass women. AWESOME.

These will be perfect for when I get my Wii. I mean, if you're sitting around the house playing video games, you should really be doing it in your underwear, right? And I didn't really think that my corset bra and mesh boy shorts from Frederick's would feel quite right in that situation.

This is gonna rule.

16 January 2008

The New Year's Resolutioners: Couples.

Why, yes, the title of this post is a take-off on the title of this season's (?) The Biggest Loser. It seems that the people on the show are in two-person teams, but they're not all actual couples. I think some are family members or friends or some such shit. The TV on which I see it at the gym is pretty shitty and I can rarely read what it says under their names.

Okay, so I don't really know shit about the show. It's not something I'd ever watch on my own and I've only seen bits of it at the gym over the last few weeks. It's hard to figure out what's going on when there is neither sound nor closed captioning. All I really know is that those fuckers cry all the damn time. It seems like they're either working out or crying or doing both at the same time. Sure, you're going to lose weight if you're bawling all the time. But it's only water weight.

The important issue here, though, is the couple thing. I don't know if I'm noticing it because of that show or because it is in fact a somewhat new phenomenon at my gym. If the latter is the case, it might not even be new. It could just be that I'm not as deep in my workout reverie as I usually am. For whatever reason, though, it seems like a ton of the New Year's Resolutioners are paired up.

Some are chubby couples, but I did see a couple of the "cute girl, schlubby guy" sitcom-type couples on Monday. Interesting. There are, of course, lots of pairs of women walking around the track yapping about God knows what. I don't think I've seen any pairs of guys, though. They seem to either travel solo or in packs.

I guess if it motivates you to have someone to work out with, then you should do what you have to do. That is not my cup of tea, though. I have worked out alone for years. Sure, every now and again I might hop on an elliptical machine next to my yoga friend Mollie. And I'll admit that the time seems to go by faster when I'm talking to her. But at the end of the day, I want to do my own thing.

It wasn't always that way. When I wasn't playing softball in high school, I would lift weights with either my best friend or a couple guys who weren't in sports. I'd run my steeples solo, though. Early on in college, I often would work out with a friend. But the older I got, the more I just wanted to get in and do my workout and go the fuck home.

I just don't get socializing at the gym. Sometimes I'll even avoid people I know at the gym because I just don't want to talk to anyone. I'm in my own little world 90 percent of the time. It's my time to really draw myself inward and work out my anxiety or the bad day I had or just stop thinking about shit other than how many reps I've done. I can't do that when I'm chatting with a friend.

Besides, most of these pairs are going to be down to singles soon enough. You just can't keep it up; schedules change, motivation changes, whatever. It's not often you see the couples working out together by April or May.

15 January 2008

Panic!

At work, though. Most certainly not at the disco.

Things have gone down recently. One of my coworkers, to be precise. We're also looking to downsize our space. It made sense before yesterday, but now with just two of us here full-time it makes even more sense.

When my now-former coworker popped in to give me the news yesterday, I flew into a panic. All of this has been in the back of my mind for a while. I've been meaning to start looking for a new gig for a while. But I just haven't had the proper motivation. I believe I have that now.

It's not that I fear my position is in immediate jeopardy. It seems as if anything would happen after we move into new digs, the whole place would go away and not one or the other of us who remains. If I go, there's no one to write proposals to bring in more money and, well, if money's a problem now ... We're also in the first year of two different three-year projects and I don't see the organization folding before those are done. Lord knows I could be wrong, though.

I just can't count on getting any notice if something is to happen, either. My coworker had zero warning yesterday. That's just how the Big Boss Man operates. So, I really don't feel like I can take any chances. Now, instead of trying to figure out how to use the three weeks of vacation I have to use before I lose them at the end of July, I'm going to hoard them. If I have any medical stuff I need to do, I'm going to try to cram it in before our insurance changes in March. I'd better make an appointment with the dentist, too.

The big problem with all of this is that I have zero idea what I want to be when I grow up. I haven't a clue what I want to do. And when I start looking for a job, I have this huge crisis of confidence -- I've always been something of a jack-of-all trades at most of my jobs, so I feel this leaves me unqualified for anything. I mean, what the fuck could I possibly do? Instead of thinking "Hey, I can do any of these different things, because I've had experience in doing those things at this job and that job. Okay, so it wasn't all I did, but I have a background in it." I think this: "I suck at life." This is also the first time I'm not even going to consider looking for jobs outside Minnesota. That feels a little weird.

Bah.

One good thing came out of yesterday, though. While I was having my late-afternoon freak out, instead of thinking about how desperately I needed a drink, I was thinking about how badly I wanted to get to the gym for a workout. I believe that signifies I've hit some sort of life-change milestone. Granted, going to the gym means I can come home and get buzzed off a glass-and-a-half of wine and thus I kill two birds with one stone. But we can keep that part our little secret, yes?

14 January 2008

What has happened to me?

Here we are in mid-January, which is about the time I start to get really geeked up about all the bands that will be coming to town starting next month. Except I'm really not geeked up at all.

When I opened up my Excel spreadsheet last week to get working on my 2008 concert calendar, I noticed that I hadn't updated it since mid-October. Me, the girl who used to obsessively check Pollstar almost daily; the girl who would check venue websites at least once a week because, OH MY GOD I CAN'T MISS A SHOW. Okay, I missed plenty of shows, but at least I knew about them all. Granted, there's usually little going on musically in town at the end of the year. I think I saw one show in November and that was it. Still, not even opening up the file for three months is very unlike me.

January is when I need to be adding shows to my calendar because I have exactly zero things to look forward to this month. It's cold. I'm broke. I'm holed up at home on the weekends watching football and basketball (okay, I look forward to this part).

Maybe it's just because there aren't any shows that I absolutely must see that have been booked yet. I'd like to see Super Furry Animals and The Black Keys, as I've missed each band every time they've been in town for the last few years. There are some newer bands I would like to check out (Beach House, for example). But I'm pretty "meh" about all of those.

Or am I just finally getting too old for that shit? I suppose it is possible. Probably not though, because I believe Elbow and Doves both have albums releasing this year and I will pee my pants when they show up on someone's calendar. If Interpol or BRMC come back? I'm there with bells on.

This is probably just the calm before the storm and I'll realize soon enough that I'm the same old Jess I've always been.

12 January 2008

Farm bloggin'.

What a momentous day this is. I am blogging from the farm -- using my own computer, connected to the 'rents' wireless network. Fucking fancy! My mom got high-speed Internet for her birthday (finally!) and for whatever reason, the 'rents decided to get a router. I'm pretty stoked. Perhaps it's a clever ploy to get us to come home more often. Like that's going to work. Suckers!

Also, while I'm farm bloggin', I'm watching Golden Gopher Basketball! Were you aware that Trent Tucker was doing games for the Big Ten Network? Because Comcast and the BTN are assholes, I was not aware of this. So, not only are these douches depriving me of Golden Gopher Basketball, I'm also losing out on Trent Tucker. Dicks.

My mom's 60th birthday party will be starting in about three hours. I think we've finally got most of the stuff done. I made a pan of raspberry oatmeal bars this morning and when the game is over I have to make four (4!) batches of cheesy potatoes. Thankfully, the rest of the food is being made elsewhere. Then all I'll need to do is start boozing.

It'll be interesting to see how things devolve tonight. Last night there were about 10 of us here (just a couple of my dad's siblings and their families), but somehow, by 9:00 my mom and dad had busted out some old eyeglasses and everyone was posing for photos wearing these giant, thick glasses. At least we weren't measuring ears or big toes. That kind of thing usually takes a few more family members and a bit more booze.

As good a time as I had last night and as much fun as I'm sure tonight will be, I still wouldn't mind being home watching football on my own couch. At least I can do that tomorrow.

And now, I'm off to see how far away I can get the wireless signal. Wheeee!

10 January 2008

I hate you, Comcast.

And you too, Big Ten Network. I may have mentioned this once or twice this fall, but honestly, the Gopher football team sucked major ass and it didn't matter all that much to me that I couldn't see any games. Well, it stopped mattering once it became evident just how craptacular they were going to be.

However, now that the Gophers have reached the Big Ten portion of their basketball schedule, I think my hatred of Comcast and the Big Ten Network deserves another mention. I was so stoked when the Gophers hired Tubby Smith (shocked as hell, too). As bad as they were last year, I still watched games (just like I'm watching the Wolves now and watched them for many years when they were the suck in the past). So, you can imagine that I might actually look forward to this year; I wanted to see what Tubby was going to do with the team.

Comcast and the Big Ten Network are making sure I don't see what Tubby's doing with the team, though. Anyone who cares knows the deal -- BTN wants the channel included with the regular cable channels (but only in Big Ten markets, I believe) and Comcast wants to put it on a pay tier. At this point, I don't fucking care which happens. I pay for a buttload of channels already that I never watch and for which I have no use. We all do. I also pay extra for the sports package because I wanted the NFL Network. Clearly, I'm willing to pay a few extra dollars a month to get my fix of Golden Gopher basketball.

I've seen exactly one Gopher basketball game this season and of course, it was one of their few losses. I may get to see as many as six games during the regular season. Oooh, six whole games? Thanks a-fucking-lot, assholes. I miss the days of the student season tickets.

So, just to sum up: I fucking hate you Comcast and Big Ten Network.

09 January 2008

Do you ever drink alone?

Does the Lord count as a person? What if it's my Jesus statue?

I came across this little tidbit in my daily visit to Jezebel yesterday. Oooh, a quiz! I love quizzes. I took this one. My results?

Many people are not aware of how their alcohol consumption compares to that of the general public. More than 91.5% of the general adult American population and 98% of women consume fewer drinks per week than you reported consuming.

Sure, I'm a much better drunk than most women, but I really have some catching up to do with the general public. Also, those people are dirty fucking liars. I find it hard to believe that most people I know are the exception to the rule. My world isn't that insular.

And God forbid you're a woman and you drink. It's perfectly okay for men to have a few drinks a day, but if you're a woman? OH MY GOD. You're going to die a horrible, horrible death from breast cancer or something else, you awful, drunk slut. Fuck off, science.

Now, where's my flask?

08 January 2008

One more thing to contain at the gym.

My hair is out of control. But in a mostly good way, I think. It's only been about a month since I had it done, but in the last couple of weeks there seems to be so much more of it than there was. So much more than before that all of a sudden, I'm having trouble keeping it up at the gym. Or anywhere else for that matter. It's just more noticeable at the gym, I guess.

I normally pull my hair into a half-assed bun when I work out with an Ouchless hair elastic. I've been using the same size for a few years now, but they are apparently no longer working. Maybe I got a bad batch that stretches out on the first couple of uses? Maybe I need to go up to the thicker ones? I do not know. I just know that my hair is falling out of its containment after about five minutes on the treadmill.

Much of my (relatively minor, I admit) hair drama is probably due to the fact that I recently switched back to TIGI's Curls Rock shampoo after using Aveda's Brilliant shampoo for probably six months or so. My hair is just way bigger than it was before. And I have a lot of hair as it is. My curls look loads better, too. Yay! Oddly enough, it doesn't seem to be tangling as much. I mean, save for a few occasions where it was a complete rat's nest.

So, now I have to try to figure out how to contain my hair while modifying my boob control systems, as those seem to be starting to lose their power. The camisole with a shelf bra that I would wear over another bra to yoga class is suddenly too big and my tits keep falling out in a bunch of different poses. A couple of months ago, I could barely breathe with it on.

My sports bras are stretching out after one or two uses, leading to entirely too much bouncing. I'm considering investing in some of these monstrosities with my tax refund, but I'm afraid of paying $50 or $60 for a single fucking sports bra that might be too big in another six months. I suppose it might be best to just stick with the current Multi-Bra Boob Control System and buy a few new stretchy sports bras to replace the ones who have served so valiantly.

I'm already planning to buy new regular bras because the ones I just bought in November are going to be too big soon enough. Though, I'm only dropping in the band size -- my actual boobies don't seem to be going anywhere. In fact, I feel like I'm spilling out of a couple of bras. I'm considering trying a cup size larger with the smaller band. This is terrifying, because while Freddie's does still make that size in my favorite bras, that's as far as they go.

Losing weight is awesome, but Jesus is it fucking expensive.

PS: As I figured, the New Year's Resolutioners were waiting until the first Monday of the new year to get in gear -- they packed the gym last night.

07 January 2008

At least I know they care?

It is nice to know your family cares about you. There are probably nicer ways to receive this affirmation than the one I got yesterday. It turns out I cannot be away from my phone or computer for more than a couple hours before everyone thinks I'm lying unconscious in my bathtub or something.

I spent most of yesterday with The Boy I Currently Like. While I was at his place, I had the ringer on my phone off and it was left in my purse. I finally dug into my purse after being there for hours because I was in desperate need of some lip balm. I very nearly didn't look at my phone because a) no one ever calls me and b) I was hanging out with him and didn't want to be checking my phone and shit. It seemed like it might be a little bit rude.

Turns out it was a good thing I did check. I had seven missed calls. Now, if I didn't know any better, I would have assumed that Booty Call Matt was blowing up my phone. But since it was like 3:30 in the afternoon, I figured that wasn't the case. He never starts that shit until at least 5:00. No, it was my mom. And my mom. And my sister. And my mom. And a couple of other people.

I figured I needed to call my mom back, so I did. There's something delightfully naughty about calling your mom while you're naked in The Boy You Currently Like's bed (note: the previous sentence may not be true. I don't tell y'all everything. After all, I am a lady. Why are you laughing? I am so a lady. Shut up!) The thing is, she didn't even need anything from me. There was nothing she had to ask me or tell me that couldn't have waited until later in the evening or today.

After I finally managed to get off the phone, I figured that was that. Oh, but no. I checked my phone a little while later to find six missed calls. This time it was my sister, my brother, my dad, my sister, my sister and someone else. So, I called my sister. She didn't have anything of dire importance she needed to talk about either. Well, except she wanted to know I was alive. She was completely freaking out. "I called you and I e-mailed you and I called you again and then our brother called you and I e-mailed you again and I was about to start calling your friends, but I didn't have anyone's numbers so I was just about ready to drive to Minneapolis to make sure you were okay."

She made me feel terrible. And I felt even worse because she said my nephew could tell she was freaking out. I had to promise to not silence my phone (which I do all the damn time) and provide her with a list of some friends' phone numbers. I'm not sure how that would have been helpful yesterday, since I wasn't answering my phone at all. There would have just been more people worrying for no reason. Of course, once I saw all those calls from my family, I had a bit of momentary panic, too. Especially after the first message my mom left for me was all garbled and scratchy.

All's well that ends well, though, I suppose. I was not dead or incapacitated, just napping or otherwise occupied.

05 January 2008

DO NOT WANT: Old people sex.

It is Day One of the NFL Playoffs and I think I have seen roughly 1,000 Cialis commercials. I highly doubt I can deal with, what, three more weeks of this?

I will never understand the randomly-placed, side-by-side claw foot bathtubs featured in these commercials. Look, you're old and have problems getting it up. You should probably stick to doing it in a bed or at the very least, in your own house. If you're going to try something with bathtubs a foot apart in a meadow, someone is going to break a hip. A priaprism is probably the least of your worries at that point, Grandpa.

04 January 2008

I know this is too good to be true.

Wednesday night -- the first day back to real life after the holidays -- I was shocked at how dead the gym seemed when I got there at 6:15. It got even more weird when I went to yoga and there were only 15 people in the class. That's probably half the usual number. There seemed to be a lot of cars in the ramp, but that's pretty normal. I don't even bother trying to park there when I go to yoga. There were a lot more coats than normal hanging in the locker room, but I didn't see the people to go with them. Maybe it was due to the fact that it was 4 degrees outside and people were actually wearing coats.

Last night I showed up about 15 minutes later than my normal Thursday gym time. There were several open spaces in the parking ramp. Again the gym seemed fairly quiet. Once I got upstairs to the cardio area, it was a bit more crowded than usual, but I got a treadmill without having to wait. And when I went down to lift? There were only a handful of people around. It was busier in the weights area at 10:00 in the morning on New Year's Eve.

What the fuck is going on? Are the New Year's Resolutioners waiting until Monday to start? I know it's not that they're just not bothering to make the resolution this year. There were a ton of people in talking to the dudes who sell memberships. Oh, but if the crush this year was less than normal, it would be lovely. I've heard the same thing from people in different parts of the country, though, too. Their gyms have all been dead, too. It's creepy, but awesome. Next week will be the true test, I imagine. I probably won't show up until late on Monday. Better safe than sorry, right?

It's been really nice having small yoga classes for the past couple of weeks. I've been able to get a good spot to see myself in the mirror. And I must say, I'm kind of impressed with myself. My form is a lot better than I thought it would be. We were doing half-moon pose and I was certain I didn't have my leg high enough or straight enough, so I peeked in the mirror and nearly fell over when I saw that in fact, it looked perfect. Same with plank pose. Our instructor was taking a break to show the class how it was supposed to look, because apparently a lot of people weren't doing it right. Me? I looked just like the photo. Awesome!

I've been doing yoga off and on for God, probably six or seven years. But I took two years off when I lived in Mankato and would go for several months the rest of the time, but then get busy or I didn't like the instructor or it was on a bad night or at a bad time or some other stupid reason that would make me stop. However, I've been going at least twice a week for a year now and it's been really cool to see the progress I've made. I've always worked pretty hard on my form and there are parts of my body that have always been very flexible (hello, loose hips!), but it's really rewarding to see progress in areas where I didn't have as much strength or flexibility.

Now, of course, I have to miss class tomorrow because I'm going way out to the 'burbs to watch my goddaughter play basketball. I'll probably live, though. And I can't miss my Sunday work out again. I was without a unitard sighting last week and I feel lost. Cross your fingers for me, y'all.

03 January 2008

When did this happen?

I had a (horrible? creepy? awesome? startling?) realization while I was e-mailing The Boy I Currently Like yesterday. (Apparently "Sweet Can" hasn't taken off like I thought it might. *sigh* Back to the drawing board.)

Some background: When I was little, I got spanked pretty often. When I got older, my mom progressed to hitting me with a variety of objects (hairbrush, wooden spoon, wet towel ... whatever was handy). I never thought it had much of an impact on the way I turned out, though one of my college roommates was convinced it gave me a short temper. There were many times when I was pretty little, maybe three or four, that my mom would chase me around the house with a yard stick with which to spank me because I was refusing to take a nap or talking back or doing whatever other bad things I did as a wee lass.

So, The Boy had feigned indignation (as he so often does) at some horrible thing I'd done or said and called me Jessica instead of Jess. I was all, *bites lower lip* "Have I been bad? Are you going to spank me?" All I could think about was him chasing me around to spank me because I was so naughty. Except it would be fun, not scary. And I'd be laughing/shrieking instead of crying/shrieking. And it would end on the bed instead of under/behind the bed.

Honestly, I have no idea where this came from. One would think it would manifest itself well before I reached my early 30s ... but whatever. As it turns out, after all the personal, confessional stuff I've said in the nearly two years of this blog, it is this entry that has me thinking to myself, "You're really going post this?" But if I can't tell you, my friends and random strangers on The Interwebs, who can I tell?

I can't figure out how I should feel. But I'm sure a post like this will really bring the freaks out of the woodwork. Spanking! Cast fetish! Sluts with black eyeliner! Bacon fucking! It's all here, people.

02 January 2008

I'm a winner! Again. Kinda.

I somehow managed to finish tied for third place in the I Dislike Your Favorite Team NFL Pick 'Em contest. I'd actually been in first place for a few weeks in the middle of the season. But I got cocky. Finishing in the top three helps to ease the sting of my worst fantasy football finish ever. I lost in the first round of the playoffs. However, I lost to the team I narrowly beat to win our division and who went on to win the Super Bowl. So, yay! my division.

Alas, third place isn't good enough to win me another Jesus statue. I'm still trying to get Big Blue Monkey to tell me what it is that I've won. I hope it's something good.

Sometimes, there's a voice in my head that cautions me when I play games with boys. She says that if I keep beating them, they won't want to play with me any more. But I'm still friends with The OC after consistently kicking his ass every year since he asked me to join his fantasy football league. And while I did win the IDYFT NCAA tourney pool, I only finished third in this most recent contest, so it's not like I won everything. Besides, the IDYFT boys are all such secure, manly men that I'm sure they can handle getting beat by a girl every now and again.

The voice that tells me I shouldn't be too competitive is the same one that tells me I shouldn't curse or burp in front of boys I am just meeting or might like. Sometimes I try to listen, like when I was drinking root beer at The Boy I Currently Like's place. But it was root beer! As I nearly always do, I ended up telling that whiny bitch to shut the fuck up and then I belched. He's still talking to me, so he couldn't have been that disgusted. I hope.

01 January 2008

Wii party.

Okay, first of all, every time I've said or thought the phrase "Wii party" since Saturday, I've ended up singing Band of Horses' "Weed Party." Good thing I like Band of Horses.

I celebrated New Year's Eve at the lovely abode of The Future Mrs. Dirk and Comic Book Guy. Santa brought them a Wii. Holy fucking fun, Batman. Shit, just creating our Miis was fun. We played baseball, tennis, bowling, a shooting game, laser hockey (I think I did best at that) and a cow racing game.

I'd been considering getting a PS2 so I could play Guitar Hero, but after playing with the Wii, that's the road I'm taking. Lucky me, I've got a birthday and a tax refund coming in the next couple of months. The Future Mrs. Dirk and I were already getting stoked about the idea of playing against each other from the comfort of our own living rooms.

The night was fun otherwise. I downed a handful of Claritin before I left so Smudge the cat wouldn't reduce me to a sneezing, wheezing puddle with itchy eyes. My plan worked! Today I'm being lazy. I loves me a Law & Order marathon.

Happy New Year, y'all.