my denial button needs fixed

It's strange how things just hit you out of the blue. A few minutes ago, I think I really realized that Bush has actual YEARS left to fuck everything up and I got really, really depressed.

PS: Sometimes I like to change the time when I'm posting something so it looks like I'm posting from the future. For a couple hours, anyway.

no pants = you're fired

Sometimes, on the days I don't hit the snooze button 14 times, I actually finish getting ready for work a couple minutes early. On those days, I'll sit on the sofa and watch a bit of TV. Usually, what happens is I either nod off or I get caught up in what I'm watching and I end up leaving late for work. I'm actually more likely to be on time if I get out of bed later and rush around like a madwoman to get ready. I mean, sure, one time I actually almost went to the office without pants, but I realized it before I made it aaaaall the way to work.

I pee with the door open

Earlier today, as I was looking through boxes I still have not unpacked, I realized I've been living in my apartment for 5 months. There are a number of things I've been meaning to do here but I haven't gotten around to yet. The unpacked boxes, for instance, are full of stuff I have been meaning to either sell (eBay, Craiglist, watch out for the mess of crap I'm about to unleash) or toss in the dumpster. I have a guitar I would also like to unload, but I have no idea how much to ask for it. I can't play this guitar. I bought it in high school and have to admit now that back then I probably bought that particular one because it was so pretty. If that's not a good reason to buy a guitar, I don't know what is. That's what happens when you're in high school and you get paid every week but you don't have to pay rent or buy your own food. I'm not a very good saver. When it comes to money, anyway. I'm a very good saver of all other sorts of things.

Plastic bags? The cabinets under the kitchen sink are full of them. I have a box full of computer cords, phone cords, remotes to appliances I no longer have, and not one, but TWO DSL modems. I do not have DSL. I have all of my old notebooks and binders from school. Presents I never got around to giving. Candles. An M&M dispenser that is M&M-less. Video tapes full of TV shows I never watch. A lot of this stuff is hopefully headed for parts unknown (thank you, eBay), and even more of it I know I should throw away but I've always found it hard to do that. What if I need that Wittenberg binder full of paper? Not only that, but I would actually feel guilty about throwing some of this stuff away. It feels like I'm setting fire to a bunch of money or something. I could give it to Goodwill, I suppose, but I really don't think anyone wants or needs an old basket that has Gamma Phi Beta written all over it.

I still have not hung any pictures or shelves in my bedroom. I don't know if I'll even bother, now, since I don't know if I'll be renewing my lease. There are always dishes in the sink, I leave the bathroom dirty for far too long, and sometimes I eat cereal for dinner. I love living alone, I don't think there has been one moment where I've been lonely. It's quite the opposite, really. I love being by myself. My plans this weekend were that I have no plans. I watched movies all night last night and I haven't talked to another person all day today. I think I was more excited about doing nothing this weekend than I was about going to Chicago last weekend.

Sometimes I feel like I'm playing house. Except whenever we played house when I was little, I always wanted to be the adult. Or the dog (I don't know). Now, I'd rather be the kid. I think I was actually a lot more responsible when I was younger. I used to be timely, not forget to do things, I was reliable. People trusted me with their children. I will freely admit now that I am not very reliable anymore. I don't know when that happened. Maybe when it became legal for me to drink.

I don't mean to suggest that if you lend me your children they'd accidentally catch on fire or something. I'm pretty sure I could keep the kids uncharred for the time they were in my possession, but I can't promise that they'd eat well-balanced meals or take baths. It's two in the afternoon and I still haven't showered. I'm not wearing a bra or pants. I had coffee and peanut butter toast for lunch. The sink is full of dishes. My laundry basket is overflowing with clothes and I'm not sure if they're clean or not. My phone bill is a week late and I haven't unpacked from last weekend.

Still, I think I'm getting pretty good at this playing house thing.

this is the LAST ONE, I swear

After what was arguably one of the least satisfying season finales of a reality show ever (except for when the crowd cheered for Janelle the loudest, or for when Kaysar told Jennifer to think for herself, or for when the crowd booed Cappy, or for when Howie called Ivette and Maggie America's Least Favorite Choice*), I just have one thing to say . . .

Kaysar? Call me.

*Which was awesome, did you see their faces? Hilarious. Also, do you think CBS realized that no one gave a shit which one of those women won? Is that why they waited until the last ten minutes to announce the winner or do they always do that? Seriously, though, I had completely forgotten that they had neglected to tell us the winner until the Chenbot reminded us because I JUST DIDN'T CARE.

welcome back, Franklin

I was going to talk about Farm Aid (where, fittingly, I got a farmer's tan), or about how the four of us consumed all of the caffeine in Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio in the five hour drive back last night, or how I am having trouble focusing on the computer because I just realized that I'm not in college anymore and sleep is no longer just a luxury, but a necessity, but I just remembered something VERY important . . .

Arrested Development starts tonight.

PS: I don't care if this makes me sound like a total nerd, but I think I was most excited yesterday at Farm Aid when Barack Obama came out to introduce Wilco. And it wasn't because of Wilco. I heart you, Mr. Obama.

never have I ever: cooking edition

Everyone knows how to play Never Have I Ever, if they have spent even one night in college or watched that one episode of Lost when Kate and Sawyer played it. The rules are simple. Someone says, "never have I ever done something" and if you've done it you take a drink. Easy. Let's play.

Never have I ever messed up coffee.

Never have I ever messed up coffee, twice.

Never have I ever messed up Easy Mac.

Never have I ever messed up Easy Mac, three times.

Never have I ever tried to grill a frozen piece of pork.

Never have I ever had to look up on the internet how to cook pasta.

Never have I ever had to look up on the internet how to brown meat.

Never have I ever overcooked a piece of chicken to the point that it was inedible.

Never have I ever burned piece of garlic bread because I was too busy overcooking a piece of chicken.

Never have I ever set off the smoke detector while using the microwave.

Never have I ever put a frozen 3 Musketeers bar into the microwave, wrapper still on, to soften it.

Never have I ever stuck a metal pot in the microwave, causing a small explosion.

Never have I ever asked what the broiler does.

Never have I ever asked how long it takes to melt butter.

Never have I ever had to call my father to the house where I'm babysitting because I couldn't use the can opener and I didn't want the children to starve. (True story, as my father and uncle so helpfully reminded me this past weekend)

If you can drink to all of those, congratulations . . . you are as helpless in the kitchen as I am. Your prize is a lifetime supply of frozen dinners and Chinese take-out menus.

UPDATE: The position of full-time cook is now open. I cannot pay you, but I will do all of the dishes. Eventually.

chi-town

Is anyone going to Farm Aid this weekend?

Anyone?

Anyone?

Bueller?

things I have learned since getting a cat

• When playing with a bug, it is more important to toy with it and keep it alive as long as possible, no matter how big of a scene your owner is making, with the screaming and the jumping from piece of furniture to piece of furniture.
• The best time to play (loudly) and meow like a baby being horribly strangled is between the hours of 3 and 6 AM.
  
• Similarly, the prime time to jump and start kneading on the owner's boobs is when she is either just about to fall asleep or when she is dead asleep.
• If you don't feel like burying your poo in the litter box, the owner will do it for you.
• If you feel the litter box is not clean enough for your dainty little feet, it is perfectly OK to pee on the owners favorite blanket. If there is no blanket within peeing distance, a pile of clothing left on the floor will also work.
• Your tail is out to get you.
• So is the shower.
• And the garbage disposal.
• Also? The vacuum.
• If the owner vacates a chair, even for a split second to get up and stretch, you should immediately jump onto it.
• The owner's bedroom closet is a mysterious and wonderous place. If she should open it, go inside and refuse to come out.
  
• If you get hungry and your lazy owner is still sleeping, it is perfectly acceptable to put your cold, wet nose onto her face and meow as loud as is humanly (catly?) possible.
• No matter what anyone tells you, YOU are in charge. Don't let your owner forget that.
  

9/11

Does anyone else get freaked out when the weather is this nice on September 11th? I know it's been four years, but it still feels so, I don't know, raw. Like it just happened. It still upsets me to see the footage, I still cry. Will it always be like that?

I was a sophomore in college. That day, I didn't have class until 11, so I didn't know anything had happened until one of my floormates pounded on my door. Everyone else was at class and she said she just needed to tell someone. "Someone crashed a plane into the twin towers." I was so confused, what strange information to get when you first wake up.

She and I sat on my futon all morning, watching the news. As people came back from class, they joined us. Classes were cancelled. Instead, we all went to the chapel where they were holding a prayer service. I'm not very religious, I don't often pray, but that day I just wanted to be around people. Especially later, when the rumors started flying. I worried about my family in Dayton because someone told me Wright Patt was a target. All planes were grounded, but when Air Force One (or was it Two?) flew over campus and I was outside, I almost crouched behind a tree.

And still, I don't really know how to talk about it. Sometimes it doesn't even feel real. Did that really happen? It seemed so unlikely. Watching it on TV, over and over, it just seemed like a movie. I don't mean to trivialize what happened at all, but it was just so surreal. It still feels that way. I guess it's just one of those "where were you when" moments that I don't think any of us will ever get over. And maybe we shouldn't.

See, I really don't know what to say about it. It just feels wrong NOT to be thinking about it today.

math question

How many pickles a day is too many?

IT

Last night I turned into one of THOSE girls. You know, the ones who see a bug or a mouse and start shrieking and woe-is-me-ing while standing on a chair. The only things that have ever caused me to do that in the past are bees (HELLO they can sting you) and bats (because of several traumatic events, one of which no one else believes ever happened).

I brought some stuff in from my outdoor storage unit yesterday because there's some stuff I want to put on eBay, and even more stuff I just want to throw away or take to Goodwill. I'm assuming IT got in when I brought in all those boxes because I don't know where else IT came from.

IT was a giant, jumping . . . cricket. OK! I know! A cricket isn't scary! Aren't they like good luck or something? I don't know what it was about this cricket, though, but I could tell it was EVIL. Maybe it was the way it hopped straight at me, maybe it was the fact that it was hiding under a stuffed animal, or maybe it was because The Cat immediately went after it because she sensed the evil as well.

Whatever it was, it had me actually COWERING on the sofa. I mean I was standing up with my back as close to the wall as it would go, hands covering my mouth like I was Scarlett O'Hara about to pass out (unfortunately, no Rhett would have been around to catch me and I'd probably have passed out on the cricket and have been scarred for life). The Cat, on the other hand, was busy swatting at IT with her paws. Every now and then she'd look at me like "what is wrong with you?" until I shrieked, "PHOEBE STOP LOOKING AT ME AND KILL THAT THING," and then she'd go back to stalking IT.

I watched Phoebe chase this thing around the apartment for about 15 minutes. If she moved rooms I'd carefully follow her and jump on the highest point of furniture in the room. Finally, when it stopped moving and what I think was one of its legs was lying on the floor in the hallway, I assumed IT was dead. But Phoebe wasn't done with it. To my ABSOLUTE HORROR she started picking IT up with her mouth and THROWING IT AROUND. She'd fling it up in the air and then jump after it and since she was standing in my bedroom doorway, I was afraid to leave the room in case she threw IT at me and IT TOUCHED ME.

When pieces of it started flying about, though, I'd had enough. I was starting to get nauseous and I didn't feel like cleaning vomit off of the carpet as well as cricket guts. I got a piece of paper and tried to scoop the remains onto it when IT came back to life and HOPPED STRAIGHT AT ME. I, again, screamed and ran away, then realized I was acting like a complete fucktard, picked up my piece of paper, scooped IT up, ran to the kitchen and threw IT into the sink and washed IT down the garbage disposal. Because what is a garbage disposal for if not for Evil Cricket Exorcisms?

make that a double

When we walked into Bargos last night and went to get our drinks, the Fox News headline on the TV above the bar read, "William Rehnquist dead at 80," and my first thought was, "thank god I'm drinking right now."

that bitch Katrina

I don't really have anything to say about the hurricane that hasn't already been said much more eloquently than I could say it, so I'll I'm going to say is please donate something to the effort . . . money, blood, something. Whatever you can do.

wake me up

I don't know if anyone has noticed this, but somehow it's September already.

speed of sound

Oh, Chris Martin, I love you even though you named your daughter Apple, married a bag of bones, and seem kind of pretentious.

Coldplay. Columbus. Coors Light. It all went together better than you'd think.