Um, this is embarrassing. My (very) brief hiatus actually starts today. I'm not going to lie to you. I thought yesterday was Friday when I posted this. I am not what they call, oh what's the word, SMART.
Last night was the best night. I finished The Color Purple (which I hadn't read since high school) and the stupid thing made me cry so I had to put it in the freezer. Then I had a quesadilla for dinner (for the second night in a row) and it was effing delicious. Then I read some more. I read SO MUCH, it was magical.
I thought about getting my hair cut last night, before Myrtle Beach, but I decided not to because my hair is going to get all sandy and oceany and beach-crazy ANYWAY so why bother? Instead, I decided to go to the library. We moved sort of far from the library I used to go to, and the new one is in a different branch of libraries, so I had to get a new card. As I was signing up, the librarian lady was all, "did you want to check books out today?" and I was like, "um, duh," and she said I could only get two books! TWO BOOKS?! I'd wanted to get books books to take on vacation and to read at the airport and TWO BOOKS WOULD NOT BE ENOUGH! I took five books to Philadelphia with me, knowing I'd only have time to read at the airport and on the plane, but I took so many because I wasn't sure what I'd want to read.
Anyway. While she was explaining where all the books were, I wanted to yell, "I CAN FIND IT MYSELF," because if there's anything I hate, it's unsolicited help. Although, I never really ask for help, so all help I receive is unsolicited. AND THEN. Some lady who was checking out a bunch of books at the self-check out (sidenote: how awesome is it that libraries are getting self-checkout?) butted into the conversation.
Lady: This is a great library!
Me: OK . . .
Lady: They're all so helpful here. And did you know? You can even get online and pay your fines and request books and look up to see if the book you want is available! You'll just need a password. And if you need to look up a book while you're here, they have computers everywhere that you can use.
I just nodded and smiled, even though I thought about shouting, "I'M FAMILIAR WITH HOW LIBRARIES WORK, LADY, I USED TO WORK AT ONE AND OH MY GOD DO YOU EVEN WORK HERE BLAAAARRRRG." Instead, I just inched away slowly (she was a close-talker) and she transferred her attention to the librarian.
Have you ever tried to pick out ONLY two books? I always end up getting more than I can read in two weeks, but this two-book-minimum was being cruelly enforced, so I had no choice but to cut back on my Book Crazy. I wandered around non-fiction but nothing jumped out at me (That would be weird, right? If books jumped off the shelves?), so I headed over to fiction. While standing at New Fiction, I pulled no fewer than seven books off the shelves and clutched them in my greedy arms until I could decide on just two. I ended up putting all but City of Thieves back, because Heather! Anne! had just given it a glowing review on Goodreads (she mentioned Salinger, which is pretty much all I needed to hear). Then I walked over to Old Fiction (just called Fiction, actually) and picked both Postcards from the Edge (by Princess Leia) and I Am Legend. I decided on I Am Legend because I am super curious about the ending (I guess it's different than the movie) and did you know the book is about vampires, not zombies? I did not know that. I decided to get it, even though Twilight is ruining all the goodwill for vampires that Joss Whedon created. Stupid Twilight. Anyway, I read a bunch of I Am Legend last night and it made me all anxious and then gave me nightmares. If that's not a sign of a good horror novel, I don't know what is.
(hiatus starts . . . NOW)
Friday, June 05, 2009
Thursday, June 04, 2009
(very) brief hiatus
As you may have noticed, I haven't felt much like blogging lately. Unless, of course, it's to post videos or lists or something that doesn't require too much time or effort. I've started this crazy habit of not even turning on my computer once I get home from work. Used to be, I'd come home, flip open my laptop, and see what emails were awaiting me after my long commute. Now the thought of staring at the computer screen when I could be reading or going to concerts or watching the swans or YES, EVEN RUNNING makes me want to scoop out my eyeballs with a plastic spoon.
I've been watching less TV, too, if you can believe it. In fact, there are whole evenings when I don't even turn on the TV. And if I do, it's to watch a super cute movie and then spend the rest of the night trying to figure out how to make sure my future children have adorable British accents.
I leave for Myrtle Beach in a couple of days, and I've decided not to take my laptop with me, which means: no e-mail, no Google Reader (le gasp!), and no blogging. Because, you see, I intend to fully enjoy the sun and the ocean before I come back to Ohio's weather shenanigans. Keep your fingers crossed, please, that Myrtle Beach's weather is kinder than Ohio's.
See you next week.
I've been watching less TV, too, if you can believe it. In fact, there are whole evenings when I don't even turn on the TV. And if I do, it's to watch a super cute movie and then spend the rest of the night trying to figure out how to make sure my future children have adorable British accents.
I leave for Myrtle Beach in a couple of days, and I've decided not to take my laptop with me, which means: no e-mail, no Google Reader (le gasp!), and no blogging. Because, you see, I intend to fully enjoy the sun and the ocean before I come back to Ohio's weather shenanigans. Keep your fingers crossed, please, that Myrtle Beach's weather is kinder than Ohio's.
See you next week.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
he can dance if he wants to
I was going to write this really long post about an interesting gentleman we ran across at the Decemberists show. I was going to go on and on about his unique dancing and hemp clothing and long, long Ewan-MacGregor-as-Obi-Wan rat tail and how he reeked of a particular substance if you know what I'm saying and I think you do. Instead you should probably just watch this video:
he can dance if he wants to from Jennifer B on Vimeo.
Monday, June 01, 2009
lists!
Things I Have Done Recently:
- saw Up (and cried)
- played Wii Fit (and cried)
- went to the pool
- got a bit sunburny on my back
- read
- ate Chinese food (mmm)
- drank beers (mmm)
- ate pizza (mmm)
- drank more beers (mmm)
- introduced Joe to Old School
- ran
Things I Am Going to Do in the Near Future:
- see The Decemberists
- go to volunteering and participate in the annual balloon launch
- see a sneak preview of The Hangover
- run some more
- figure out how to use my new camera
- pack
- go to Myrtle Beach
Places I'd Rather Be Right Now:
- at home
- at the pool
- um, anywhere, really, to make a long story short
Friday, May 29, 2009
starfish and coffee, maple syrup and jam
Yesterday, Lampl invited us over to hang out, even though they're leaving for Florida today. After a while, we all started thinking, "hmm, they're leaving tomorrow . . . and they want us to come over tonight . . . and the truck isn't packed yet . . . why?" and YES, it turned out they wanted to have a packing party only NOT REALLY because it was more like a drag-things-down-three-flights-of-stairs party but it's OK because we love Lampl and Jon and OMG do you see how long this sentence is? My English teachers are rolling over in their graves. You know, if they were all dead. TO MY KNOWLEDGE, they are all living. For now.
Speaking of English teachers (sure, why not), I had like THE BESTEST English teachers in high school. Well. Until senior year. I will get to that in a second. Actually, my freshman year English teacher was kind of meh, but she had Farrah Fawcett hair so that was cool. Anyway, sophomore year, my teacher was totally obsessed with Prince so we did this whole unit (heh, unit) based on a Prince song I'd never heard of, called Starfish and Coffee. I'm not sure what this song had to do with any of the stuff she made us do, but whatever. This stuff included: drawing a picture that represented something we struggled with, doing some activity where she'd say something like, "I am female" and then all the girls would walk to one side of the room, playing a song for everyone that meant something to us, and salsa dancing. Yes, salsa dancing.
So even though she was totally weird, she was also awesome and way better than the teacher I had senior year, who totally resembled Frau Farbissina. She didn't just look like her, though, she was also prone to randomly yelling the last word of a sentence FOR NO RAISIN other than she was a huge bitch. Ahem. She didn't like me, which is ridiculous because ALL of my teachers liked me. I always did my homework and paid attention and never, ever disrupted class. I was a teacher's wet dream. But she didn't like me and even once told me I had too much imagination. Probably because she was a huge bitch. At the end of the year, we all had to write essays for our Career Passports to be included in the folder that held our diploma. The topic for one was something about what your Plans A and B were for career choices and I said my Plan A was to become a Book Jacket Summary Writer and my Plan B was to become a Bungee Cord Tester. I think we also had to write something about how we'd afford our dreams (gag) and I wrote that I'd follow celebrities around until they did something embarrassing and then blackmail them. Frau English Teacher did not like my essays. Not even a little. She told me she was going to give me an F if I didn't rewrite them and I was all, "give me the F, I DON'T EVEN CARE A LITTLE," even though getting an F on something I'd written made me die a little inside. So she gave me an F BECAUSE SHE WAS A HUGE BITCH and that's why I got a B in English that semester.
Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh, right. Lampl's. It's Lampl's fault that I had to go to Target and spend money at lunch, because last night I left my black hoodie at her apartment and she told me she packed it and is holding it hostage. The only way I can get it back is to go visit them in Florida. OH DARN, NOT FLORIDA! Did I just say "darn?" Right. So. I had to go to Target and get a hoodie replacement because right now that's cheaper than a trip to Florida.
Speaking of English teachers (sure, why not), I had like THE BESTEST English teachers in high school. Well. Until senior year. I will get to that in a second. Actually, my freshman year English teacher was kind of meh, but she had Farrah Fawcett hair so that was cool. Anyway, sophomore year, my teacher was totally obsessed with Prince so we did this whole unit (heh, unit) based on a Prince song I'd never heard of, called Starfish and Coffee. I'm not sure what this song had to do with any of the stuff she made us do, but whatever. This stuff included: drawing a picture that represented something we struggled with, doing some activity where she'd say something like, "I am female" and then all the girls would walk to one side of the room, playing a song for everyone that meant something to us, and salsa dancing. Yes, salsa dancing.
So even though she was totally weird, she was also awesome and way better than the teacher I had senior year, who totally resembled Frau Farbissina. She didn't just look like her, though, she was also prone to randomly yelling the last word of a sentence FOR NO RAISIN other than she was a huge bitch. Ahem. She didn't like me, which is ridiculous because ALL of my teachers liked me. I always did my homework and paid attention and never, ever disrupted class. I was a teacher's wet dream. But she didn't like me and even once told me I had too much imagination. Probably because she was a huge bitch. At the end of the year, we all had to write essays for our Career Passports to be included in the folder that held our diploma. The topic for one was something about what your Plans A and B were for career choices and I said my Plan A was to become a Book Jacket Summary Writer and my Plan B was to become a Bungee Cord Tester. I think we also had to write something about how we'd afford our dreams (gag) and I wrote that I'd follow celebrities around until they did something embarrassing and then blackmail them. Frau English Teacher did not like my essays. Not even a little. She told me she was going to give me an F if I didn't rewrite them and I was all, "give me the F, I DON'T EVEN CARE A LITTLE," even though getting an F on something I'd written made me die a little inside. So she gave me an F BECAUSE SHE WAS A HUGE BITCH and that's why I got a B in English that semester.
Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh, right. Lampl's. It's Lampl's fault that I had to go to Target and spend money at lunch, because last night I left my black hoodie at her apartment and she told me she packed it and is holding it hostage. The only way I can get it back is to go visit them in Florida. OH DARN, NOT FLORIDA! Did I just say "darn?" Right. So. I had to go to Target and get a hoodie replacement because right now that's cheaper than a trip to Florida.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
I'm good enough. I'm smart enough. And doggone it, people like me.
At my heaviest, I weighed 80 bajillion pounds. OK, that's a bit of a lie. OK, that's more than a bit of a lie. But I did weigh too much. I wasn't healthy and I knew it needed to change but I didn't want to do anything about it.
That was right after college. I moved home and wasn't very happy about life in general and the fact that I didn't feel good about myself wasn't so much helping. I soon moved to my own apartment because I figured 22 was a good enough time as any to become a responsible adult. It was around this time that I stopped living in denial. Up until then, I'd look at pictures of myself and ignore how heavy I'd gotten. "It's just a bad angle," I'd think or, "It must be that shirt so I'd better not wear it anymore."
I signed up for Weight Watchers Online and started being very strict about what I was eating and drinking. I was shocked (shocked!) at how small a normal serving size seemed and I struggled with finding filling foods (alliteration FTW!) so I wouldn't binge on a bag of potato chips at 4 AM. Luckily, Heidi had already been using the program, so I went to her with all of my many questions.
I was amazed (amazed!) when I started shedding weight. I lost 10 pounds within two weeks and, while the weight loss slowed after that, I was still losing weight every week. Eventually I got to the point where I could fit both arms inside the waistband of my pants (hot!) and, EVEN MORE ATTRACTIVE, the ass of my pants was hanging so low that it looked like I'd pooped myself. I'd lost something like 50 pounds. At this point, I went through my closet, gleefully trying on clothes that were now about four sizes too big and then throwing them in my Goodwill pile.
I still didn't feel like I looked any different, no matter how many people I ran into that hadn't seen me in months. They'd be all, "wow, you're not a fatty anymore, congrats!" but I didn't entirely believe them. To be honest, I still don't feel like I look much different. And lately, for some reason, I've been feeling really down about myself. I don't know why but I think it might have something to do with the fact that A) it's summer and B) I wear a bathing suit a lot more during the summer.
I've decided that this is ridiculous. I should be proud of the way I look because HELLO I lost 50 freaking pounds. I tend to downplay that. Like it wasn't hard to do even though, um, it was totally hard to do.
I went from this:
to this (please also notice the perfect Guitar Hero score in the background):
I should be proud of that.
My next goal is to stop worrying so much about whether or not I gain or lose a couple of pounds because WHO CARES as long as I'm healthy. I feel like I'm always waiting for that time when I'll lose 10 pounds or "look better" and, just, what? What does that mean, "look better?" Why can't I look OK right now?
So do me a favor. The next time you're standing in front of the mirror and your first thoughts are along the lines of, "do these pants make me look fat?" or "oh, muffin top, I beseech thee, GO AWAY," tell your brain to STFU because you look awesome. I know this is totally Stuart Smalley but seriously . . . you're good enough, you're smart enough, and goddamn it, PEOPLE LIKE YOU. And they also want to do you, because you're hot. So, you know, deal with it.
That was right after college. I moved home and wasn't very happy about life in general and the fact that I didn't feel good about myself wasn't so much helping. I soon moved to my own apartment because I figured 22 was a good enough time as any to become a responsible adult. It was around this time that I stopped living in denial. Up until then, I'd look at pictures of myself and ignore how heavy I'd gotten. "It's just a bad angle," I'd think or, "It must be that shirt so I'd better not wear it anymore."
I signed up for Weight Watchers Online and started being very strict about what I was eating and drinking. I was shocked (shocked!) at how small a normal serving size seemed and I struggled with finding filling foods (alliteration FTW!) so I wouldn't binge on a bag of potato chips at 4 AM. Luckily, Heidi had already been using the program, so I went to her with all of my many questions.
I was amazed (amazed!) when I started shedding weight. I lost 10 pounds within two weeks and, while the weight loss slowed after that, I was still losing weight every week. Eventually I got to the point where I could fit both arms inside the waistband of my pants (hot!) and, EVEN MORE ATTRACTIVE, the ass of my pants was hanging so low that it looked like I'd pooped myself. I'd lost something like 50 pounds. At this point, I went through my closet, gleefully trying on clothes that were now about four sizes too big and then throwing them in my Goodwill pile.
I still didn't feel like I looked any different, no matter how many people I ran into that hadn't seen me in months. They'd be all, "wow, you're not a fatty anymore, congrats!" but I didn't entirely believe them. To be honest, I still don't feel like I look much different. And lately, for some reason, I've been feeling really down about myself. I don't know why but I think it might have something to do with the fact that A) it's summer and B) I wear a bathing suit a lot more during the summer.
I've decided that this is ridiculous. I should be proud of the way I look because HELLO I lost 50 freaking pounds. I tend to downplay that. Like it wasn't hard to do even though, um, it was totally hard to do.
I went from this:
to this (please also notice the perfect Guitar Hero score in the background):
I should be proud of that.
My next goal is to stop worrying so much about whether or not I gain or lose a couple of pounds because WHO CARES as long as I'm healthy. I feel like I'm always waiting for that time when I'll lose 10 pounds or "look better" and, just, what? What does that mean, "look better?" Why can't I look OK right now?
So do me a favor. The next time you're standing in front of the mirror and your first thoughts are along the lines of, "do these pants make me look fat?" or "oh, muffin top, I beseech thee, GO AWAY," tell your brain to STFU because you look awesome. I know this is totally Stuart Smalley but seriously . . . you're good enough, you're smart enough, and goddamn it, PEOPLE LIKE YOU. And they also want to do you, because you're hot. So, you know, deal with it.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
STOP. Collaborate and LISTEN.
I sure wish I knew why I've had Ice Ice Baby stuck in my head all morning. Oh well.
The problem with not blogging for HOLY SHIT almost a week (other than my Dad giving me shit for not blogging) is that, by the time I get around to blogging, too much has happened and I don't know where to start. So I just don't write about any of it. No more! I mean, that's really unfair to deprive you of all the details from my every waking hour. And sometimes my non-waking hours. Anyway, this is what I did this weekend:
I forgot to tell you guys about this awesome conversation Heidi and I had the other day. It was pretty spectacular. Here is what I remember of it:
Heidi: You know how when we go over the speed bumps in the parking lot, we go sort of between them so only one side of the car goes over them?
Me: Yes.
Heidi: But if there's a car coming from the other direction, we don't do that and we just go over the speed bumps like normal so we don't block the way?
Me: Sure.
Heidi: Well. Remember that girl with the Alaska plates who blocked the dumpster that one time when she was trying to shove a bike in her trunk*?
Me: Yes!
Heidi: Well, I was coming toward a speed bump and she was coming the other way, and she was doing that thing where you go between the speed bumps even though I was there! I had to wait for her to get across.
Me: WTF?
Heidi: I know. It was so rude.
Me: To be fair, she's from Alaska and is used to just driving around igloos.
Heidi: And away from Sarah Palin.
Me: Yeah, because Sarah Palin is shooting at her. From a helicopter.
Heidi: "Oh, look at that moose! I want it for my wall!"
Me: "That sure is a shiny moose!"
Obviously, those last two statements were said in our best Sarah Palin impressions, although my Sarah Palin impression is less a Sarah Palin impression and more a Tina-Fey-as-Sarah-Palin impression, but whatever.
*I hope you have a big trunk . . . cause I'm puttin' my BIKE in it.
The problem with not blogging for HOLY SHIT almost a week (other than my Dad giving me shit for not blogging) is that, by the time I get around to blogging, too much has happened and I don't know where to start. So I just don't write about any of it. No more! I mean, that's really unfair to deprive you of all the details from my every waking hour. And sometimes my non-waking hours. Anyway, this is what I did this weekend:
- went to a going away party for Lampl and Jon
- ate at McAllister's and DRANK SWEET TEA
- tried to play pool
- failed
- drank beers and ate taco dip
- went to the pool
- twice
- went out to dinner
- twice
- went to a cookout
- ate lots of mac and cheese and ribs and broccoli salad
- went to the nature reserve
- did not get eaten by bugs
I forgot to tell you guys about this awesome conversation Heidi and I had the other day. It was pretty spectacular. Here is what I remember of it:
Heidi: You know how when we go over the speed bumps in the parking lot, we go sort of between them so only one side of the car goes over them?
Me: Yes.
Heidi: But if there's a car coming from the other direction, we don't do that and we just go over the speed bumps like normal so we don't block the way?
Me: Sure.
Heidi: Well. Remember that girl with the Alaska plates who blocked the dumpster that one time when she was trying to shove a bike in her trunk*?
Me: Yes!
Heidi: Well, I was coming toward a speed bump and she was coming the other way, and she was doing that thing where you go between the speed bumps even though I was there! I had to wait for her to get across.
Me: WTF?
Heidi: I know. It was so rude.
Me: To be fair, she's from Alaska and is used to just driving around igloos.
Heidi: And away from Sarah Palin.
Me: Yeah, because Sarah Palin is shooting at her. From a helicopter.
Heidi: "Oh, look at that moose! I want it for my wall!"
Me: "That sure is a shiny moose!"
Obviously, those last two statements were said in our best Sarah Palin impressions, although my Sarah Palin impression is less a Sarah Palin impression and more a Tina-Fey-as-Sarah-Palin impression, but whatever.
*I hope you have a big trunk . . . cause I'm puttin' my BIKE in it.
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