30 June 2008

What happened to that guy?

I was walking around Lake Calhoun earlier this evening (Oh my God -- CHARGE THE MOUND, MAUER! Come on! Ah, dammit.), lost in non-thought, enjoying the beautiful evening and listening to music. Then I saw this guy who, in some roundabout way, reminded me of a guy I used to see every. single. time. I. walked. around. the. lake.

But I realized that I haven't seen him even once this year. He had a very distinctive look -- he was older. He was beyond tan. I think he had graying, curly hair. He was always shirtless. And his walk was really ... odd? I actually saw him on a bike a few times and that totally threw me off.

So, what happened to him? I walk around Calhoun at least once a week if it's nice out. Mondays and Fridays are usually my cardio days, if everything goes according to schedule. Things rarely go according to schedule, though. Maybe I'm walking around the lake less this summer than last. It was probably August before I really started lifting weights on a regular basis again last year. I think I was walking around Calhoun (or doing my cardio at the gym) and doing yoga it in the early part of summer.

Still, I can't help but wonder what happened to him. Did he move? Find some sweet young thing to spend his money on? Sustain a weird walking injury? I hope he's okay.

29 June 2008

I have been renewed.

Oh my God. I have had a delightful weekend. Not even the horrible red wine/allergy headache I had when I woke up this morning was enough to put a damper on the weekend.

Last night I went to a "clean out the freezer" dinner party at Sweetness and Mike's place. The Prison Librarian and KayGee were there, as were The Doctor and The Physical Therapist. (I can't remember whether I have different blog nicknames for all of these people or not. And I can't be bothered to check. Sorry.)

Today was lazy and then beer tent-y. The fucking bus was a mess and I almost said, "Fuck it" and went back home after waiting for a bus to Loring Park for 40 minutes. Assholes. So, I didn't get to spend much time at the beer tent, but the time I did spend was quality. And I got a corn dog. Whooo! There were so many wee dogs at the beer tent, including the one who was in a dog baby bjorn. That poor fucking dog's eyes said, "Save me! Please -- for the love of all things holy -- SAVE ME."

Honestly -- I don't know that it gets any better than this. I've been with some of my most cherished friends all weekend. I have had a fantastic time. I've drank a ton and eaten quite well. Yesterday, I bought my ticket to see Neko Case at First Ave in September. The weather has been glorious, for the most part. After all of this, I have forgotten the horrible week that was last week. I think I will be able to make it through the upcoming short week.

Now, if you'll excuse me, swimming is on and I need to drool over Michael Phelps.

27 June 2008

Happy Pride.

Oh, how I loves me a block party in Minneapolis with all my friends. Usually, the Bryant Lake Bowl Uptown Pride block party is the first big block party of the summer. However, Red Stag had a block party a couple of weeks ago and messed my shit all up. I couldn't go, as I was at home doing Father's Day shit since I had to be at the airport by noon the following day for my trip to New York.

So, I guess this year is no different than all the others -- the Pride block party at Bryant Lake Bowl is the real big summer kick off for me. It's always nice when this shit is in my neighborhood. God, we had so much fun tonight. Almost too much fun for as not drunk as we were. Oh, my face hurts from smiling and laughing so much.

I love, love, love that I get to spend so many weekends in a row with my best friends in the whole wide world -- Rock the Garden, Pride and the Fourth of July? Damn! Then there's maybe one weekend before the Bastille Day Block Party at Barbette (or like, 10 days). And then it is just a couple of weeks until the Pizza Luce Block Party.

Yay summer!

Now I just need to decide if I'm going to go to my yoga retreat on Sunday morning or to the parade. Believe it or not, it is actually a tough decision for me.

26 June 2008

You've dodged a bullet this time, Kevin McHale.

I would have hunted you down and punched you in the junk with all of my might had you drafted that reject-from-Color-Me-Badd-looking motherfucker Kevin Love.

Oh my God, look at OJ Mayo's shoes! You are one sharp motherfucker in your three piece suit, darlin'. I can't be displeased with such a nattily-dressed draft pick. Welcome to the Wolves.

Also? What's with Kevin Durant's sport coat? He looks like he should be working for Century 21, selling houses or some shit.

I swear to fucking Christ, if I have to see this goddamn Sprite commercial again, I am going to hurt someone.

Okay, I'm stopping now, lest this become some haphazard, Jess-is-getting-drunker, NBA Draft liveblog.

Update: GO TO HELL, KEVIN MCHALE, YOU SNEAKY FUCKING BASTARD. I HATE YOU SO MOTHERFUCKING MUCH.

25 June 2008

I should not be calling anyone a hot mess.

Because I am a hotter mess than anyone wearing hot pink, leopard print, spandex pants. Or I'm hot messier? Whatever. The fact remains that I really shouldn't talk.

I guess I've been more stressed out than I realized or would admit to myself. I mean, it's bad enough that Aunt Flo made a surprise visit just two weeks after she was last here (I don't think I like these birth control pills at all. But I suppose getting an extra visit is better than not getting any visits and having to worry I might be preggers?). But to make matters worse, I was crying during yoga tonight. Crying. Like, real tears dripping on the floor. I've welled up a number of times in yoga classes and even let a few tears leak out here and there, but I've never full-on cried in a yoga class.

Honestly, I'm amazed I managed to hold it all in for as long as I did. I was nearly crying on the way to work, when I was stuck in traffic and thought I was going to be late for my meeting. I was nearly crying during my training conference call where the people conducing my training this week were contradicting half the shit people told me the previous two weeks. I was nearly crying while I was trying to get my assignment done by 3:00. I was nearly crying when I told my brother I couldn't meet him for lunch because I couldn't take a lunch because I was too busy. I was nearly crying on my drive home, stuck in traffic and fighting the worst tension headache I've had in years. Probably since I was on migraine meds for my tension headaches.

On my way to yoga, I was trying to fight the tears and resorted to punching myself in the thigh and now I have a nice bruise to show for it. It was a little scary when I realized what I was doing. Normally, I'd dig my fingernails into the palm of my hand or the inside of my wrist or the back of my thigh (if it is accessible, of course). However, I'd just trimmed my nails down very short and I couldn't dig in nearly enough to make the pain distract me.

When I got into my car to leave Trader Joe's, though, I figured there wasn't much of a point in trying to hold back the tears. Well, except for the fact that it helps to be able to see while you're driving. But whatever. If I crashed, I crashed. Oddly enough, for the first time ever, crying actually made me feel a little better. I think maybe it released a little of the physical tension. Momentarily, anyway. The headache is back and I can't take anything for it because I already took a handful of ibuprofen this morning and I'll get (more) rebound headaches if I keep taking shit. So, I have to suffer. And drink wine. And sleep. Hopefully that will help.

Fuck, man. I need a weekend, stat. And I need a day off. Thank the Baby Jesus next week is a short one.

And I thought the unitards were fantastic.

Oh, but I was wrong. Last night at the gym I saw something even better. My fellow gym-goer was wearing the following items: bright red boxing shoes with hot-pink, leopard-print, spandex pants and a snakeskin weightlifting belt over an oddly plain tan t-shirt. Oh, and a patterned headscarf. If he'd been wearing ridiculous sunglasses and a feather boa, I might have mistaken him for our former governor.

Sweet, buttery Christ. This guy was a hot fucking mess. And it was glorious. I mean, it's far better than the guy in my yoga class who wears Zubaz. This guy's crazy outfit made me smile. And it almost made me laugh in his face. Fortunately I was able to control myself. I don't need someone dressed like that as an enemy.

24 June 2008

You should read this book.

Andrew Wice, one of the delightful contributors at I Dislike Your Favorite Team, published a novel back in April. I would have written about it a while ago, but I have a silly habit of testing things out before I present them to you, dear readers and tell you to spend your hard-earned money on them. I mean, I wouldn't be telling y'all to go out and buy Bacon Salt if I'd not tried it myself and found it to be heavenly. Nor would I have told the hooterific among you to go out and get your girls an Enell sports bra if I'd not tried it and found it to hold my melons in place like you can't even begin to imagine.

So, because it took me a few weeks after it was published to order Mr. Wice's novel (stupid unemployment) and a few more weeks after that to get a chance to read it (stupid life), I'm just coming to you with this now. I'm very sorry to be such a slacker.

Better late than never, though. Right? I finally had the chance to sit down and read To The Last Drop while traveling back from New York on Friday. I started it when I sat down at the Legends Sports Bar in JFK and read until soccer started. Once I went to my gate, I pretty much didn't put it down. When I deplaned in Minneapolis, I had maybe 20 pages left. It was lateish. I'd had a very long day in cars and airports and on planes. I was exhausted. I had to shower. Unpack. Eat. But not before I finished To The Last Drop.

It was a real page-turner. I enjoyed it immensely. I'll be honest, after reading the first little bit about the life cycle of the water molecule when Andrew posted the first chapter or whatever on IDYFT, I wasn't sure I would like it. So I didn't bother finishing what I'd downloaded, opting instead to wait and read the entire book at once. I think I made the right choice. His bad guys are your stock evil characters. And that was just fine for me, because I didn't want to feel any empathy for them at all. Well, except for Taylor Jon Bridges. At the end, I absolutely understood his actions. The rest of the characters -- the good guys, I suppose -- they're all written very well. They were all very compelling.

Here's a synopsis from Andrew's site:

When a slacker biologist accidentally discovers water in the parched desert of New Mexico, a war erupts.

Texas invades New Mexico, renaming the territory "New Texas."

A desperate insurgency fights the occupation with a brutal terror campaign in the cites, mountains and deserts.


To The Last Drop dramatizes today's global water crisis. This novel illuminates the development of the Southwest, the relationship between occupation and terrorism, and our unquenchable thirst for water.

You should buy it. Seriously. It is a good book. Plus, he went to Macalester, so he has local ties. Don't let the fact that he is friends with Big Blue Monkey deter you.

I wish I knew what happened to my Zia Crossbones stickers Andrew sent to me last year. One would look bad-fucking-ass next to my Bacon Salt sticker on my Guitar Hero guitar.

23 June 2008

More free stuff.

Though, I had to work for this. So, it was less free stuff than reward, really.

My Bacon Salt package from Justin arrived some time while I was in New York. I imagine it was Thursday or Friday, as the World's Worst Wing Woman stopped by on Wednesday to throw my mail in my apartment.

I was so distracted with coming home late and having to unpack and then not having much time before I had to leave for Rock the Garden on Saturday that I totally didn't even open the package right away. This is very unlike me. If I have a package waiting for me when I get home, I'm trying to get into it while I'm walking in the door.

But I did open it and Lo! is it awesome.

Here you see the Hickory, Peppered, Original and Natural versions of Bacon Salt. On top is a "Pocket Rocket." I can fill it with Bacon Salt and throw it in my purse and have Bacon Salt with me all the time. Glorious!


And here, you see four (4!) Bacon Salt can coolers.


Justin, you fucking rule.

Also, I was going to wait and post about this until I went in the store and saw it with my very own eyes, but Justin tells me that Bacon Salt is available at our local Lunds and Byerley's stores. And it will be showing up on the shelves at Rainbow soon enough. What are you waiting for fuckers? Go get some!

22 June 2008

Odds and ends.

I know I mostly recapped my visit to New York already. Or, I guess I've done as much of a recap as I'm willing to do. I have no souvenirs, save three MetroPass cards (two with fare still on them!) and the Hong Kong dollar I found sitting on the floor, just under the edge of the bed my first night there. So, if you're heading to New York City before July 31, 2009 and plan on taking the subway, you know where you can get some MetroPass cards. There's enough for a couple of rides, even.

Incidentally, the World's Worst Wing Woman and I decided on the ride back to my place from the airport that "Hong Kong Dollar" sounds like some sort of perverted sex act, a la Cincinnati Bow Tie. If you don't know what that is, do not look it up. Seriously. It's not as bad as a pink sock, but it's bad enough. You really, really shouldn't look up a pink sock.

Anyway, I had some pictures of my room in the Paramount on my camera that I thought I'd post. How terribly fucking thrilling, I know.

My pristine white, king-sized bed that provided lovely, lovely sleep. I was glad it was so white so I wouldn't have to look too closely to see if there were any fleas or bedbugs.


The funky, stainless steel sink in the bathroom:


The ... um, carpet and stuff:


The marble table and leather chairs, with my shit hanging all over them.

Try telling him that.


From one of the stalls in the women's bathroom at the Hexagon Bar, taken last Friday when I was at The Slats show.

21 June 2008

I'm sorry, but ...

The New Pornographers, with neither Neko Case nor Dan Bejar, still should have been the headliners of Rock the Garden. I know I left before Andrew Bird had finished, but it isn't like he was going to close with anything comparable to "The Bleeding Heart Show" followed by the most spot-on cover of "Don't Bring Me Down" I have ever heard in my life.

Alright, free toothbrush!

What a great way to start out my Saturday -- the guy scanning cards at the gym handed me a Crest SpinBrush as I went in for yoga. Hooray for free shit.

Today's meditative message for yoga was gratitude. Nothing could possibly have been more appropriate for me. We were breathing in love and exhaling peace; breathing in joy and exhaling gratitude. It was so intense I was fighting back tears.

Tears? Yes. I'm even borderline weepy right now. I think I've been hiding my stress and worry and anxiety in whatever mental and physical nook or cranny I could find over the past couple of weeks. But now that I'm back home after nearly a week away, I guess it's starting to seep out.

New York is a great city. And I probably would have enjoyed it much more if I'd not been spending the bulk of my time in ridiculously crowded, garish, touristy Times Square and nearly as congested, but less touristy Chelsea. Where I might add I was working from like 8:30 to 6:00 or 6:30 every day. Soho on Thursday was delightful. My aunt and uncle's house along the Hudson river on Monday was lovely. I had dinner at Breeze on Wednesday. That was good, but since it was so close to my hotel, the crowds were still gross. Topaz Thai on Thursday after the tapas party in Soho? Oh my God. It was so good. But of course, I had to work my way through the crowd as I walked back the 10 blocks or so to the Paramount.

And I don't even want to talk anymore about the Paramount. Those fuckers can lick my ass. The guy at the bagel cart between my subway stop and the office who knew me and my order after two days and called me "Honey" and "Sweetie?" He was great. I felt bad telling him I would not be seeing him on Monday, 'cause I was heading out of town. So yeah, New York is great and I can see why people live there. And I can still understand why just a few years ago I would have loved to have moved there.

But you know what? I missed Minneapolis so fucking much. God, I love it here. Of course, I missed my apartment and my bed and all of my stuff. I missed cooking and not eating shit food for a week. I missed working out and yoga. But I also missed being able to see the sky not crowded with buildings. I missed tree-lined streets and green lawns and the lakes.

I tried to soak it in on my drive to and from yoga -- the grass and trees and Lake Calhoun. I soaked up the sun and breeze and sound of birds while I ate breakfast and drank a cup of coffee on my deck. And I am so fucking grateful for all of this. I'm grateful for a beautiful summer day. I'm grateful that I am going to spend a significant chunk of the day outside in the Sculpture Garden, drinking and listening to great bands with some of the people I adore most in this world. I am grateful to be home and I am so grateful to have my life.

20 June 2008

On my way.

The car service should be here in about 20 minutes to take me to the airport. I've got probably another 11- or 12-hour day of travel ahead of me. If I don't make it back to the Minneapple tonight I will hurt someone.

Should I miss Rock the Garden tomorrow, I'll really be upset. But I have faith! that I will get back with minimal trouble and much time for reading. That's what I keep trying to tell myself anyway.

I miss you somethin' awful, Minneapolis.

19 June 2008

Fucking finally.

Frequent readers will note that I have done my share of ranting and raving about how much I hate Comcast and the Big Ten Network for depriving me of Golden Gopher Basketball and Football last season. Okay, well not so much the football. I'm actually pretty glad I didn't have to witness that epic display of suckitude. But not allowing me to watch the majority of Tubby Smith's first season at the helm of the Golden Gopher Basketball ship? That made me crabbby. Or angry. Or irate. Maybe a little stabby, too.

Oh, but there is news on the horizon! It's totally fucking late news and not exactly great news, but it's news. The Big Ten Network and Comcast have reached and agreement and I will be able to see my beloved Gophers play next season.

There's a catch, though. Isn't there always a catch? It seems that BTN will be on the expanded basic tier for the first year, but it will probably get moved to the digital tier and cost extra the following year.

Now, that's not a huge deal for me, as I am a sucker who is paying for the digital sports tier already. I'm also not watching it. Nor will I be until the NFL Network starts showing regular-season games again. Well, I do have the soccer channel that The Boy I Currently Like will sometimes flip to when he is over and in charge of the remote. (Can you believe I allow him such latitude? Me neither.) But that is hardly worth $9 a month or whatever I'm paying. Lucky for Comcast, I'm far too lazy to call and cancel the package when I'm not using it. And I did utilize my NBA TV a few times and certainly watched some of the Fox Sports regional channels during college basketball season. So, um, it's not a complete waste of money?

Anyway, yay for Golden Gopher sports. I'm hoping I'll get to see some wrasslin' next year. Boo to Comcast and Big Ten Network for being colossal pricks and depriving me of all but a scant few opportunities to watch my alma mater's sports teams play. Everyone involved deserves a punch to the junk.

17 June 2008

Big Apple Update

I’m doing awful with my little paper journal I planned to use to recap the week, but honestly, I’ve barely had time to even pull it out of my purse and jot things down. Well, there was the time I spent on the train to and from my aunt and uncle’s house last night, but I was reading a graphic novel The Boy I Currently Like gave me a while ago. I swear; that’s really the only downtime I’ve had.

Training has been good, if still a bit overwhelming. I’m sure that’s partly because I spent 11 hours on the road on Sunday and then went straight from work to a different subway stop and to Grand Central Station to try to figure out which damn train I had to take to get out to the fancy-pants suburb where my relatives live.

Yesterday, I did some of my training with an intern who is still in college. During our overview of the in-house library, we covered the Reader’s Guide to Periodical Literature and like sources. We even talked about microfilm and microfiche. It was bad enough that I remember using all of those things in the not-too-distant past (well, it doesn’t seem that distant to me). But when I mentioned to her that I actually used microfiche for my undergraduate thesis, the girl looked at me like I’d grown another head. I only cried a little. (Also, not really.)

Everyone is terribly nice. The guy who planned my trip for me has given the front desk staff at the Paramount hell for making my dealings with them an enormous pain in the ass. Hopefully they’ll have things figured out when I get there tonight and they will also give me back the $250 they charged me for the room. I’m supposed to get free breakfast, too. Score!

Aside from the jokers at the front desk, the hotel is not bad. I was upgraded to a king room and it is mostly clean and decent. If there were fleas or bedbugs, I’m certain I’d be able to see them on the blindingly white bedding. It smelled a little funny on Sunday night, but it was fine when I got in late last night. Again, this is probably because I’ve been totally wiped out by the time I got in, but I’ve slept like a damn rock both nights I’ve been here. It takes me a while to actually fall asleep, but once I do … look out.

I have nothing planned for tonight. Perhaps I might head to a bar to watch the Celtics beat the Lakers, while cheering lustily for someone to punch Kobe in the nuts. I might sit in the hotel bar for happy hour ($8 martinis. What a bargain!). Maybe I’ll just wander around my neighborhood (away from Times Square), buy a bottle of wine and go back to my room and chill. The possibilities are endless!

14 June 2008

Expecting the worst.

So, I was reading reviews of my hotel on tripadvisor. And, well ... I'm pretty fucking terrified of it. The reviews have mentioned everything from not-working TVs and internet (see, no point in taking the laptop with me) to closed bars and no room service to broken equipment in the fitness center to dirty rooms and bathrooms to BEDBUGS AND FLEAS.

BEDBUGS.

FLEAS.

Look, I know the rooms are going to be minuscule. I'm okay with that. Room service is ridiculously expensive and I wouldn't use it anyway. And I'm okay with the place being old. But dirty? DO NOT WANT. I'm not really high maintenance or anything, but dammit, I want a clean hotel room.

I know I'm being a big baby about this, but I really don't want to go. New jobs are stressful enough, but add in the fact that I'm having to travel right away and it's almost a little too much. Plus, I kind of feel like they're just throwing me to the wolves. No one has explained expensing or anything like that. It damn well better be okay for me to take a cab to my hotel from the airport. How do I get reimbursed for my subway fare? God, and I'm going to eat horribly all week.

At the end of the day, I'm sure I'll have a lovely time. I'm really looking forward to being able to spend some time with my aunt and uncle. For whatever reason, my mom gave me a hundred bucks to take with me. I wonder how much she's giving my sister for her trip to Greece and Turkey? She'll probably use her money for something other than drinking. But that's where my cash is going.

I'm taking a wee notebook with me to take notes for a wrap-up blog post when I return. My camera is all charged up and ready to go, too. I'll miss you guys!

13 June 2008

Made it.

This week actually seemed to go really fast. I was shocked to realize yesterday was Thursday. I suppose it was because I had something due today and I was totally unsure about whether I was doing it right.

My ... trainer? I guess that's what she is, since she's doing most of my training. Anyway, she said my first assignment was a really good start and I was totally on the right track and ahead of where a lot of people would usually be (including where she was) at the end of the first week. She said I should congratulate myself for a great first week. Yay for me, I guess. After my very recent, shitty employment experience, I'm finding it too hard to get even a tiny bit stoked about doing a good job. Especially because I feel like I should be doing so much better than I am.

I'm totally wiped out after trying to process so much information all week. And then I stayed up late last night. I went to The Boy I Currently Like's place after work and watched soccer with him and the same friend I met on Sunday. The friend left and we watched Monty Python and The Holy Grail. Apparently, I misrepresented the level of my nerdiness. I've not seen a ton of The Boy's favorite movies, so we have embarked on an educational project to get me to where I need to be, nerd-wise.

Personally, I think The Boy overestimated my level of nerdiness. I don't recall making any claims to being a huge nerd or anything; certainly nothing approaching his Super Nerd status (it's really cute, I swear). See, he knows I'm a major Star Wars nerd. I'm constantly correcting his attempts at Star Wars quotes. Though, I'm convinced he's fucking them up on purpose to make me flash my Star Wars dorkitude. Anyway, I think he just assumed I was a nerd in general based on that. Sadly, he was mistaken. But I guess we're going to remedy that situation.

Despite having a really, very lovely night last night (it's actually been a really good week with The Boy, which is nice, because last week was a bit dicey), I'm so goddamn tired and cranky right now. I'm trying to get my laundry done so I can pack when I get home from the farm tomorrow evening. I just want to hang out in my lovely apartment that I'm going to be away from for several days, but I've been guilt-tripped into going to The Slats show at the Hexagon Bar. I'm sure I'll have fun after I've had enough to drink and I get there around my peeps. Right now, though, I am not happy about having to get off my couch for any length of time.

11 June 2008

How big of a dork am I?

I'm watching this right now.

And I called my dad to make sure he wasn't missing it. But he'd already seen it a while ago.

Since it wasn't on the show, here's "Big Iron" for y'all.

10 June 2008

Cookies.

There was a welcome for me today. Wait. What? A welcome? With cookies? You must be joking. Can't say I've ever had one of those before. It's just more shit for me to try to take in and then forget. I'll never remember all the names.

I went to lunch with some people in my ... department? Or, they do the same kind of work I do? Something like that. Anyway, they're pretty fun. And catty as fuck. I kinda like that. Turns out one of my coworkers is from the next town over from my hometown and we know a lot of the same people. We graduated the same year. He was a wrestler; he wrestled with my step-cousins when I was a wrestling statistician. Small fucking world. And when he said he wrestled, I said, "I knew it!" Some guys just have that wrestling body and there's no denying it.

Oooooh, also! I finally got my travel arrangements squared away. My hotel is in fucking Times Square. Check out the pictures of the rooms -- they look like shoe boxes. Awesome. There's a business center, so maybe I can get a blog post or two in. But really, if I'm staying in Times Square, how can I not get out and see shit? Um, because it's Times Square and it will be crawling with tourists who will make me stabby? Possibly. I'm glad there is a fitness center. I could just work, go back to the hotel and work out and then sit in one of the bars and drink until bed. I don't see what is wrong with that.

Sounds like I'll get to spend as much time with my aunt and uncle as I want. Or at least dinner Monday or Wednesday and then a tapas party at some friend's office in Soho on Thursday. Holy fucking fancy, Batman. They don't want to hog all of my time, but I don't think I have anything else to do. I'm not even sure how much I'll want to do. I mean, I'm sleeping an extra hour and I'm still exhausted at the end of the day. I can't imagine how exhausted being away from home and navigating the subway and tourists and NEW YORK in general is going to make me.

I think City Wendy might live near where I'm staying. Maybe I should shoot her a note. Or if any of my dear readers want to grab a drink, I would entertain that notion. I'm still looking to ruin my mostly excellent streak of Meeting People From The Internet. Drop me a line if you're interested.

09 June 2008

Overwhelmed.

Sweet buttery Christ. I think my brain melted this afternoon. I've never had a training like this in my employment career. This week and next are packed full. The week after is partly packed, as is the following. Yeesh.

It was alternately really exciting and I felt really stoked about working there and about all of the opportunities that are out there in front of me. But the next moment I felt like I was a complete fraud and there's no way I could possibly do this job. But I'm sure that's just first-day/first-week jitters.

Everyone is so friendly. They all love working there and they all seem to think their coworkers are just the best. people. ever. It's creepy and awesome at the same time. They're all so excited for me to be joining them. Then again, I got that same message at my last job. And we all know how that went.

My boss's boss took me to lunch. We spent much more time talking sports than we did talking about work stuff. Excellent! He's yet another Packers fan who, upon hearing I broke up with the Vikings, said I would be welcomed with open arms in the the Green and Gold fold.

We were talking about something kind of work related and he said that he thinks about me sometimes -- because his neighbors work for a newspaper. I always wonder how I can make an impression on people like that. It's weird. I think I'm pretty forgettable and relatively invisible, but every now and again something like that pops up and I just don't get it. I guess there are worse things, right?

It sounds like I might get some writing opportunities relatively quickly. The last guy I met with apparently heard about my writing abilities and said he is talking to my bosses to see if I can work with his group to do some writing. I'm still not entirely sure what his group does or how I fit in with what they do, but I'm all about taking opportunities to write when I can.

08 June 2008

Starting over. Again.

Here we go, again. Tomorrow I start my second new job of the year. My second job in as many months, actually. I'm still amazed at how well I've handled getting canned, being unemployed, looking for a job, starting a new job, looking for a job again/still and now starting another new job. Obviously, I've been drinking a lot.

You know what, though? Before I was let go, I thought losing my job would be the Worst. Thing. Ever. In. Life. Don't get me wrong -- it was no fun. It sucked big, hairy, donkey balls. But I got through it. And I got through two months of a job that made me absolutely miserable. I think (or at least I hope) I learned something about myself. It's so fucking cliché, but really, that which doesn't kill me can only make me stronger. I actually feel like working at a job I hate is worse than being unemployed. Wow. Did I just say that? I didn't spend a lot of time crying while I was out of work. Actually, I'm not sure I cried at all. This was mildly surprising. But I have had jobs that made me cry every. fucking. day. So, crying seems to be a good indicator of how well I'm dealing with a shitty situation.

The nice thing about this new job is that I actually get some training. That will probably be a little boring. Training always is. And I think I probably do better just getting thrown to the wolves at the start, but that's with jobs that you just kind of pick things up as you go. And I did a good job of that at my last job. Maybe that's why I'm looking forward to easing into this gig.

I had been freaking out about starting the new job, but I haven't had a ton of time to think about it today. I spent most of the day with The Boy I Currently Like. We slept until like, noon. Sweet! That's half of a potentially terrifying Sunday gone right there. Then one of his friends came over to watch soccer. Another potentially terrifying situation mitigated by the fact that I didn't have much time to worry about "Oh my God, I'm meeting one of his friends." I can only imagine how I looked. I'd been awake and upright for maybe an hour. I reined in my hair as best I could and I was essentially makeup-less. Awesome! I've looked much, much worse, though. It was fun. The Boy I Currently Like is hilarious, and from what I know, his friends are hilarious, too. Today did nothing to change my theory.

And since I've been home, I've had to shower, eat, do laundry and other crap. The wine I had with dinner has helped me to not get all worked up as I'm writing this. What's even more excellent is that I don't have to be there until 9:00 tomorrow. Score! I plan to drive tomorrow, but hopefully I'll bus or take the train most days. Turns out it is actually faster to bus than take the light rail. Dammit. Oh well.

I'm sure I'll spend most of this week stressing about my training in New York next week. My laptop will probably not be making the trip with me. I dropped it a tiny bit when I came home from Christmas and now it doesn't seem to travel all that well. However, if I'm going to be in New York, um I doubt I will be wanting to be holed up in my hotel room e-mailing, IMing or blogging. I'll be seeing my aunt and uncle for sure. And I hope to find a band I like playing somewhere. Who knows, though. Right now, I need a proper-sized suitcase.

Fuck. It's always something, isn't it?

07 June 2008

Even more inbox awesomeness.

I don't know what it is about e-mails from Justins this week, but in addition to my Bacon Salt fantabulousness, I received an e-mail with this subject line: "Hate LOLcats? You'll Hate LOLporn Even More!"

Now, I've written about how much I hate Lolcats. I get a handful of hits every day from people visiting their favorite search engine and typing in some variation of "I hate Lolcats." It always warms my heart to know there are others in the world who are Dead Inside, just like me!

Since I spent most of today at a fucking baby shower, I figured I needed to get home and engage in some unwholesomeness. And I'm sharing it with you.

Baby shower side note: it was for my Best Friend Ever, so I actually wanted to go, despite the 40-mile drive each way. I adore her and she is the only woman I have ever known who admitted to being terrified about pregnancy, childbirth and motherhood. She's so fucking honest about everything. She's the last of our group of friends to have a baby. I think she was the last to get married. I'm the only holdout now. I was also the one who was adamant about never getting married and never having kids. Of course, my friends said, "You know, you'll be the first to get pregnant and married because you said that." HAHAHAHAHAHA, Suckers.

Anyway, back to the Lolporn. Obviously, this is very not safe for work. I repeat, NSFW! I've only shared it with a few people. Some have found it hilarious. The Boy I Currently Like said it was weird and disturbing. Honestly, I thought he'd love it. I mean, he loves Lolcats and he loves porn. This should be the best of both worlds, right? Um, perhaps not.

Some of it is creepy and weird. Some is hilarious. This is my favorite.

Here is the link already. Christ, Jess. You Can Has LOLPorn!

Now, if you'll excuse me, Purple Rain is on TV One and I have more wine to drink. Plus, Fuse is running Prince videos starting in 45 minutes. Oh yeah, it's Prince's 50th birthday today. Happy Birthday, Prince!

06 June 2008

Done and done. Almost.

It's the Last Day of this rather awful job. Of course, I'm busy. And have been busy all week. At least the time isn't dragging by.

This morning I was supposed to have my exit interview. That has not happened yet. At some point in the last couple of weeks I was supposed to sit down with my direct supervisor (the one with the Food Issues) and the Boss Man. Neither of those things happened, either. Do they realize that they will never learn if they don't take the time to find out what they might be doing wrong or could be doing differently? Guess not.

I'm feeling guilty, especially for leaving my coworkers with such a heavy load of work. But ... well, I just couldn't stay here. And I know they understand because I'm just the last in a series of seat-fillers here. Though, apparently, I was the best they've had and I will be sorely missed.

And now we've got a last-minute bid to get out today. Sweet! I should go so I can get out of here and make my 5:45 Happy Hour at the Herkimer.

05 June 2008

The best $54 I think I've ever spent.

You may remember that last week I was bitching about how much my boobs hurt and how shitty a job my Multi-Bra Boob Control System was doing for me at the gym. I followed through on my statement about buying a good (read: expensive) sport bra.

It arrived today and I got to test it out at the gym tonight. I got an Enell Sports Bra. Honestly, since it was Oprah endorsed, I hesitated. I hate Oprah and I really, really do not want to be one of her sheep. But, I'd heard about Enell through various other channels before I had any idea Oprah was prattling on about them.

This is the first bra I've ever had, to my knowledge, that had instructions on how to put it on:

Putting the ENELL on: Put your ENELL on like a vest. Then start to "hook up" your ENELL from the BOTTOM and go up! "Tuck and hook" until you get to the top. Once you get your ENELL fastened, reach in and adjust your breasts in the bra by pulling them up and out toward the underarm so the bra lays flat under your breasts. The breasts should then be held firmly in the upper/fuller portion of the bra. Your nipples should rest just below the arch seam. Your ENELL should be snug but comfortable, you can feel the support.


Y'all, it took me probably five full minutes to get that fucker on. Those first couple of hooks (out of 11!) are nearly impossible. You can't "tuck" at that point and I couldn't even see the hooks. Jesus.

But I did finally manage to get it on and I could even breathe! Hot damn. We are in business. I jumped up and down a few times and The Girls didn't seem to move too much. So, I finished getting dressed and it was off to the gym.

Before I even got out of the locker room, I noticed a couple of things. Well, I guess they kind of go together. Whatever. Anyway, I now have a fairly good idea of what I would look like after a breast reduction. Well, if that breast reduction smushed my tits out and up to cover most of my chest. Still. And I can see how much thinner I'd look without such giant hooters. That was a bit of a depressing realization.

To the treadmill! Holy shit. I felt like a different person. I felt like I could run. RUN! That boggles my motherfucking mind. There was some movement, but it was more of a jiggle as opposed to a bounce. Where has this bra been all my life?

I can't recommend this bra enough to my big-tittied, active sisters. It honestly seems like it will be worth every penny. For what it is worth, I ordered mine from The Lingerie Store. It was $6 cheaper and shipping was free.

Oh, Science, I love you!

I take back all the bad things I said about you for saying my drinking is going to give me the Breast Cancer and make my bladder explode and whatnot. From the New York Times: New Hints Seen That Red Wine May Slow Aging.

Maybe this explains why I get carded all the time buying red wine?

I can't decide which part of the story I like best, though. There is the fact that at least on the weekend, I have the time to drink enough wine to actually make a difference: The Wisconsin scientists used a dose on mice equivalent to just 35 bottles a day. But red wine contains many other resveratrol-like compounds that may also be beneficial. Taking these into account, as well as mice’s higher metabolic rate, a mere four, five-ounce glasses of wine “starts getting close” to the amount of resveratrol they found effective, Dr. Weindruch said.

I mean, I could stop going to the gym to be sure I can get my four glasses in on a weeknight, but I'm guessing that is probably not the best course of action. Nor should my sleep suffer too much in the quest to remain younger. Perhaps I just need to be more efficient in my weeknight wine consumption. Even better is the fact that four glasses of wine is one less than considered binge drinking. This is just keeps getting better and better.

The other cool part of the story was this: Some scientists are already taking resveratrol in capsule form, but others believe it is far too early to take the drug, especially using wine as its source, until there is better data on its safety and effectiveness. Because, if you can't dope yourself up on potentially-beneficial compounds that you've discovered, why the fuck be a scientist?

The Boy I Currently Like told me to be careful, lest I start reverse aging like Jonathan Winters on Mork & Mindy. Ass. But really, doesn't that kind of happen when you drink too much, red wine or otherwise? If you're not careful, you end up an incoherent, drooling, possibly incontinent mess who needs adult supervision and care. So, you know, be careful and stuff.

03 June 2008

Feels like I'm 10 all over again.

I didn't think I would really be upset when Hilary Clinton lost the Democratic nomination for president. I certainly didn't think I'd cry about it. Oh, but I did. It really is reminiscent of the way I felt when I was 10 years old.

When I was 10, I was completely gutted when Walter Mondale and Geraldine Ferraro lost the election. But I'd already been devastated for months because here I was, just 10 years old and unable to vote for not only the Democratic presidential candidate from my home state, I was unable to vote for the first female major-party vice presidential candidate.

What, doesn't every 10-year-old pine to vote? So I'm a dork.

But holy shit, a woman on the ticket? Of course, Mondale and Ferraro got their asses whupped. Quite frankly, it wasn't that long ago that I was convinced I'd never see a female president in my lifetime. Then again, there was a point when I thought I wouldn't live to see 30. Thanks a fucking lot, Reagan.

In the interest of full disclosure, I waited until the very last minute to cast by vote between Clinton and Obama at the caucus. And honestly, I voted for Clinton because Kucinich and Edwards had already dropped out. I'm happy to have a candidate in Obama that I don't hate a little, as I did with Kerry in 2004. You'd never have known it though, what with the work I did for Music for America (now The League of Young Voters) and all my Kerry/Edwards buttons and signs.

Maybe some day we'll break that ultimate glass ceiling. In the meantime, Obama '08, motherfuckers.

02 June 2008

Finally, blogging pays off!

Oh, it's paid off already in a number of ways. Without the blog, I wouldn't have made some excellent new friends. I wouldn't have met The Boy I Currently Like. I wouldn't have been able to expose my ridiculousness to a number of strangers all over the world.

But today? Today I am GETTING SHIT FOR BLOGGING. Remember when I wrote about my Bacon Salt arriving? Well, the guys at Bacon Salt found the entry and I was named a contender for Bacon Salt Blog Post of the Week.

A contender? Big fucking deal, you say. And you're probably right. But earlier today I got an e-mail from Justin, one of The Bacon Salt Guys. His business partner apparently named the winner without consulting him and he was so incensed, he was moved to e-mail me and offer me "an even more rad gift" than the winner was getting. Fuck and yes!

Even better -- they want to use my post in their press kit. How can you not love a company that will use a profanity-laced blog post in their press kit? Oddly enough, with just the link on Mnspeak and The Official Bacon Salt Blog and their Facebook page, this random blog entry has probably gotten more exposure than any press release I was ever paid to write in my short-lived career in public relations. Anti-poverty work? Ending pollution from the medical industry? Sure, those are important issues and I believe in them strongly. But apparently not as strongly as I believe in Things That Taste Like Bacon.

For the record, I have now tried Bacon Salt and it is divine. I used Hickory Bacon Salt on oven-roasted Yukon Gold potatoes with extra virgin olive oil and Herbes de Provence and it was a total food orgasm. That shit was like crack. I couldn't stop eating it. And I used the Peppered Bacon Salt in scrambled eggs with a bit of cheese and green onion. Delightful! Turns out you can be a bit more heavy-handed with it than you might think.

Today, the mailman delivered a package full of bras and undies from Frederick's of Hollywood. I've lauded Freddie's a number of times in this blog, but has anyone from there thanked me? No! Instead they lose a bra that I tried to exchange a few months ago. Y'all are just lucky that you are the only place I know of that sells cute, affordable bras in an F cup. If I don't want a four-hook monstrosity that comes in the wide variety of colors white and beige, you're my only choice Freddie's. So thanks.

01 June 2008

You know what's fun?

My siblings and I are all grown up, but we still pick on each other like we did when we were kids.

We were at our cousin's high school graduation party this afternoon and my sister was sitting next to my brother on this giant, padded coffee table in my aunt and uncle's living room. I noticed my sister's elbow looked weird and I said something to her about it. Turns out she's got the hyperextending elbows, too!

When we both started then showing everyone what our weird elbows do, my brother freaked. "Gross. Stop it. That's disgusting. Don't ever do that again." Clearly, our only course of action here is to do it constantly whenever we're together.

It's always nice to have something with which we can torture him. He annoyed us to no motherfucking end when we were kids, but with him being the only boy and the baby, Mom always took his side. Little Sister and I are laying on the living room floor, watching TV and minding our own business. Little Brother comes in and starts pestering us, possibly even beating on us and the second we even considered retaliating or even just trying to fend him off, Mom yells at us to "Leave him alone!" Now of course, she claims she never did any such thing. Oh, Mom. You're a hoot.

I was almost a horrible person tonight.

How do these horribly annoying people end up liking the same bands I do? Seriously -- how can you be that much of a dick and have good taste in music? I don't get it.

There was a point tonight when I was this close to dumping what was left of my drink into a girl's purse who had butted in front of me. But it turns out that A) I'm not that awful of a person and B) I cannot waste even a tiny bit of a Knob Creek and Diet Coke. I want my $6 worth of booze!

Despite the douchieness of the crowd, I had an awesome time. I wanted to buy the opening band's CD, but they apparently took off with their merch during the French Kicks' set. I actively tried to buy your CD, but you thwarted my efforts. Do not bitch when I download it for free from the interwebs. I tried, fuckers.