Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
More later, you know, when I have enough energy to type.
*Not only did I partake on T-day, I definitely liked the mixer clean when making them. OHMYGODSOGOODFUCKYOUPAULADEENFORMAKINGMEFAT.ER.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
But before that, here's what caught my eye and I thought I would share because, well, I'm nice like that.
NPR did one of those last minute bits on this blog, My Parents Were Awesome. It's endearing.
The Muppets are blowing up. And Rocking out.
Shoes. I like to live vicariously through those who can both afford and manage heels like these: Elle Shoe Blog.
Duh news of the day: Junk Food Turns Rats Into Addicts.
Listening to: How Long Has This Been Going On? - Ella Fitzgerald
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
*I would not suggest listening to Nick Cave while thinking about past relationships as I am now. Just trust me.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Odyssey and Oracle - The Zombies
Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes - Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes
The Definitive Rarities Collection - Nina Simone
And I have plans for many more. I just need time and $$.
Also, I downloaded "Bad Romance" (Lady Caca) and "I Can Transform Ya" (Chris "Ladybeater" Brown) for the ol' work out mix. Helpful tip: if you are trying not to be such a lard ass, do not, I repeat, do not get it into your head that it's ok to eat at Greek House even if it's the first time in many months and you've been good all week. JUST DON'T.
Currently, I'm laid up on the couch like a beached gyrowhale, fending off impending heartburn from the massive amounts of garlic and onion consumed watching my favorite movie on the CW (34 local) Home for the Holidays. It's about dysfunctional families eating gross food wearing terrible coats yadda yadda yadda Holly Hunter's character makes out with Dylan McDermott's. And it got me to thinking about how awesome making out can be. Just making out. Sometimes, I think it's kind of weird, because we're adults and can get down to business if we want, etc. But there's something about making out. And the final scene of the movie.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
And then OU got punked by Texas Tech. In a related story, does anyone want my OU/OSU tickets for next weekend?
Also, I went to see 2012 with the BF and my mom because she wanted to go as part of her b-day weekend. OH MY SWEET LORD. I really have no words to express how ridonk this movie is. Worse than Bird on a Wire and Beverly Hills Cop III combined. It was a fucking insult. Good thing my mom paid. I'll leave you with three (one hyphenated) words: No more Pull-Ups™!
But, in a related story, Amanda Peet is my new (although I've suspected it for some time now) celebrity chick crush. Girlfriend went to Columbia, was in a Seinfeld episode, starred in a movie with Steve Zahn, has an adorable bebé, and can rock bangs like nobody's business.
Some good news: only two days of work this week! Yeehaw!
*This makes sense if you watch, like me. Oh, you don't? Because you're cool and have a life? Oh. Ok.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
While awaiting our entrees, we decided to think of the most awful drink one could order to be jerks. Dad busts out his iPhone and finds an article that says Manhattans, cosmopolitans, mojitos and lemon drops are the worst, but the BF pipes up that maybe we should order a Cleveland steamer. I had a personal record scratch moment, but everyone else just kept talking. About Cleveland steamers. Because they had no idea what they were saying. Until Dad looked it up. But not before practically screaming Cleveland steamer several times within earshot of small children (not that they would know, but kids sure do grow up fast these days). Soon, Dad is showing Mom the definition from Urban Dictionary on his iPhone. They're both laughing and Dad is compelled to mention dirty Sanchez.
SWEET JEBUS! Who are these people?
I'm not sure if the BF was trying to find a way to embarrass me or my family into ending things or what.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
I really, really, really, really, really, really, reallyreallyreallyreally want a dog. Like bad. However, there's always an excuse not to commit to the whole thing. Like, they're expensive, messy, smelly, poopy, peey, furry, sheddingy, dirty, disobedient and potential relationship enders. All kinds of relationships. Ones with shoes, yards, fences, corners of couches, landlords and more.
On the minus side, I work about 20 minutes (with no traffic) from where I live, leaving me little time at home mornings and evenings. My typical schedule has me leaving the house about 7.20am and returning about 7.30 - 8pm. That's a lot of time away from a pup. However, I do have BF who offices at home, so it could be doable...
On the plus side, I am sure that I was more active without even trying when I had Zealand (dog lost to breakup '06). He was a big, goofy guy who needed lots and lots of walking and interaction with other folks and animals. So, there I was, day after day, him dragging me through the two mile loop at the dog park. Two miles a day, rain or shine, winter or summer adds up to a healthier me.
And yes, dogs are pricey, but I think the act of financial restraint and saving for something other than yourself is a worthwhile pursuit.
I feel like if I wait for everything to properly align, the soonest I'd get an animal is when they bring kittens to the old folks home.
So, in closing, I'd like one of these please.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
For more on trend fails, see my battles with skinny jeans, dresses and leggings, dresses over jeans, flowy tops, ironic Converse, dark nail polish, and sideswept bangs.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
And that's what I'm thinking about this Sunday evening.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Andrew Bird is my tour guide on a night cruise of famous swimming pools. He drops a tiny boat into still, black celebrity pools (the first was one from a movie I could recognize in my dream, but can't remember now) and we paddle in a circle while he narrates the history. And he talks exactly like he sings. Here's a sample from the song "Sovay."
I was getting ready to consider my next plan of attack
I think I'm gonna sack
the whole board of trustees
all those Don Quixotes un their B-17s
and I swear this time
yeah this time
they'll blow us back to the 70's
and this time
they're playin Ride of the Valkyries
with no semblance of grace or ease
and they're acting on vagaries
with their violent proclivities
and they're playing ride
Ride of the Valkyries
all along the day
Right, so, he paddles about, using newly created words to expound upon water and whistling. Very AB*. Suddenly, my mom is there, but she's a cartoon version and looks like Meg Griffin with Sideshow Bob hair. She wants to get off the boat because we've come to a stop at whatever hotel/monstrosity in Vegas has the "Venetian" canals and gondoliers.
I wake up thinking that Sideshow Bob's hair really isn't all that much unlike my mom's.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Friday, November 06, 2009
Thursday, November 05, 2009
- What are the dudes doing that just chill at the gym? You know, the ones that just pace around machines with their workout clothes, but absolutely no intention of working out except to adjust a seat, sit down, then get up again? Are they just scoping people out? The problem is, I stare at them and all their weirdness, which I'm sure they take as me staring at them because I'm into them. What I'm really doing is desperately trying to do anything besides think about how many minutes are left.
- My seriously fucked up dreams. Ones in which my mom gives birth to a kitten. One in which my boss's daughter has progeria. One where my boyfriend is pregnant and I'm super pissed because I thought he was on birth control. Another one with Philip Seymour Hoffman on a boat. One where the spider from Charlotte's web turned evil and promised to kill me, someday, so I spend the rest of the dream scared shitless that a talking spider is trying to murder me. What is up, sleeping brain?
- I've decided that "Modern Family" and "Park and Recreation" are, in fact, worth watching. Also, let me profess my secret love for "Castle." Imagine this in my Oprah voice - LOVE IT! It's truly terrible. Bad acting, stupid stories, a horribly appointed apartment, but still, fuck me if I'm not watching Monday nights at 9.
- The $8 car wash is definitely better than the $5 car wash. Worth all 300 extra pennies. The black 'trix is still shining.
- I'm enjoying September in November. It's been sunny and 70sish all week. Had I not had a vomit inducing, brain melting migraine for two days of it, I forgot where I was going with that. Migraines suck (but are always better when referred to as meegraines).
- I'm afraid of watching and not liking "Precious."
- I like to listen to these songs:
Bitter Heart - Zee Avi
I Don't Know What To Do - Pete Yorn and Scarlett Johansson
And It Spread - Avett Brothers
Horchata - Vampire Weekend
Johnny Got A Boom Boom - Imelda May
Home - Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes
Roots of The Industry - Hoots and Hellmouth
Monday, November 02, 2009
I'll be honest, I don't know who half of these people are or how I hear them. Except the old school Shakira. I heard new school Shakira and she was talking about being a wolf or something retarded and I flashed back to awesome Spanish class era Shakira and took an iTunes trip down memory lane (expensive). But, turns out "Estoy Aqui" good running music. So, there you go. Also, if there's anyone left out there who reads this (I know there are at least two and one is my mom), PLEASE HELP ME!
In a related story, I went to the OU/K State game Halloween. I dressed up as an OU fan e.g. I actually bought an $11 OU t-shirt and wore it public. Something I swore I'd never do. I rarely even wear Smith garb (mostly because people think it's a made up school). Basically, I have no school spirit for any school. I'm so much fun! Hang out with me! Anyway, it was a lovely evening, OU played perfectly for about 47 seconds, the band did Thriller, I got in some cardio climbing up and down the stadium stairs ten thousand times (we're up on row 67), and then we met some friends for a beer at Brother's on campus corner. They have cheap pitchers. Woo hoo! Since I'm trying to not be so lardassy, I'm trying to drink less. So, I actually only had about 1.5 solo cups of beer over two hours, which equals not even tipsy. You hear me? Good. I'm looking around, taking in the scene of oldsters (it was homecoming weekend) drinking it up and eyeing all the coeds in their retarded sexy anything getups. Two grey dudes are walking arm in arm toward the door. One tells the other to hold on, there's a big step here. I smile and think, someday, I hope I have a friend who will still hit the bars with me when I'm 80. Cut to us leaving. Our booth was directly in front of the front door, next to the big step. Cut to me falling off the big step and slow motion rolling onto the cold, brick floor, laying at the feet of ID checkers/bouncers and the owner of the bar. The moral of this story is, had I known that was going to happen, I'd have just said fuck it and had a pitcher. DAMN!