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July 11 Park your orca hereGeez. I have had some crazy dreams lately that force me to wake up and say "I guess I'd better get up because I am NOT doing THAT again." Though it really stinks when that happens at 4am.
A few weeks ago, I had to wake up because a friend's newborn baby wouldn't stop playing the original NES Metroid to let me hold her. It was a slight I could not recover from. Yesterday, I had to wake up because the strippers that my husband was managing kept getting kidnapped and I had to go help him find them, but what really pushed me over the edge was an abnormally short Asian Catholic guy who kept following us around murmuring prayers incessantly. It was NOT helping the situation. This morning, I was in the ocean involved in some kind of swimming contest when my partner and I realized we were being circled by two sharks. Fortunately, they were not cooperating, but competing. Thank God! You know your luck has turned when they're rival sharks and not friends, trust me. Though, as dreams are wont to do, they morphed into angry orcas. They were swimming in circles around us, biting at each other, jumping out of the water trying to belly flop each other to death, and my partner and I just kept swimming and swimming, thinking if we can just swim to that parking lot, we'll be okay (because it'd be too shallow for the orcas, of course). Well, we made it to the parking lot and started arguing about what kind of scones we were going to get at Starbucks (a little cocky and premature on our part), when we saw that the orcas were still circling us. Then a Beverly Hillbillies character comes out on his rickety wooden porch, levels his shotgun and shoots both orcas dead with a single shot each. My first thought in my dream was "I have GOT to blog about this," and that disturbed me so much, I had to wake up. Yet here I am. Blogging. Ta-da. July 03 I do what they tell me toThis morning when I woke up, I had a very clear thought in my head that somehow made perfect sense. This is it: "Well, it would be easiest if it was already IN the car wash." July 02 I'd rather not knowWhy do roaches come out of hiding to die? Is it to taunt us with their presence but without risking being squished? Or to ensure a decent end, where being put in the trash is the equivalent of going to roach heaven? And how do they end up flipped on their backs? Are their death throes really that violent? I think I would like to see that. Yeah...it was a busy day. June 27 Flow-bee!Hair-wise, I am a happy person today. I have not been a hair-happy person for the last two months or so. I had gotten a really fun haircut way back in December, that just kept being fun as it grew out and out and out. By the middle of April though, I was seriously hating life as it started to look like a raggedy mullet. I could have just gone and gotten it cut by my personal hair genius (not shear genius, no), Christina, but I thought I had a better idea. (Can you guess that I was WRONG?). I knew we were heading to Europe and that I would be spending a couple of weeks visiting my parents in Finland. My mom had said that she wanted to take me on a day-trip to Estonia for my 30th birthday. In case this isn't the most well-known thing in the world, I will inform you that the thing to do on a day-trip to Estonia is to get your hair cut and colored, plus whatever salon/beauty services your little heart desires. That stuff is very expensive in the rest of Europe, especially the super-pricey sector called Scandinavia. It is unbelievably cheap in Estonia (cut and color for $30) and of top-notch quality, even if their customer service skills are stuck in the Communist era (it's really fun). So, I had figured that I'd suffer a couple of weeks of mullet so that I could have my very own Estonian beauty experience.
My mom and I woke up early to catch the high speed hydrofoil (basically a smallish ship) for the hour and a half trip across the Gulf of Bothnia. Our very first stop was the salon. All the women working there are from Russia, so the language problem gets interesting right away. These are Russians, living in Estonia, doing business with you in Finnish. Great. Fortunately, I had thought of this, so I brought a picture of what I wanted. Unfortunately, it didn't help for one second. She looked at what I wanted, nodded vigorously, and then with the very first cut indicated to me she had no idea what was going on. There were supposed to be long sweeping bangs, and she started by cutting a full centimeter ABOVE my eyebrows. I decided to just close my eyes and practice mouth-breathing. Close the eyes to hide from her hair-butchery, breathe through the mouth because this girl has not put deodorant on in a very long time and is spinning all around my head with armpits fully displayed. In the end, I looked like a character out of "Hairspray." When I tried to fix it myself later, I kept ending up looking like Mrs. Brady. Really not what I was going for, but at least I can enjoy a good laugh at my own expense. The best came when Jason and I spent the day riding roller coasters at Islands of Adventure and he would crack up hysterically at the end of every ride as the wind had revealed Ronald McDonald was his coaster-mate. Fan-tas-tic.
Finally, yesterday, I'd had enough and headed back to Miss Christina. I brought her a picture of a funky short hair cut, and she knew exactly what to do with it. It is so nice to have super short hair again, though I keep using way too much shampoo. It's not foolproof though, because when Jason came home today, he said I look like one of the Beatles. And he's right...without any pomade or wax with it laying flat like this, I do kind of look like Ringo. Or even Paul. I'm okay with that, because I LOVE IT.
On a side note, I had no idea that they still make the flow-bee haircutting system (I only really remember it from 'Wayne's World'). I particularly love these selling points:
"Low noise, quiet enough even for autistic children."
"Two products in One: Family Haircutter and Pet Groomer."
Classic. June 21 We don't live here anymoreOur house has been on the market for nearly three months now, and the most irritating part is that it has to be in tip-top ready-to-show condition at all times. By nature we are not make-the-bed and wash-dishes-instantly kind of people, so this has been a bit taxing. Up until about a week ago, agent's were following directions and giving us about an hour notice before bringing people to see the house. This was fine. In an hour, I can work all kinds of magic. Then last week, I was awakened by a phone call stating I had 25 minutes to get up and out. We had come home from California the day before, so our luggage was still half-unpacked in the hallway. It was a frantic 25 minutes as I struggled to get dressed, make the bed, clean up the suitcases...only to have the agent show up early while I was in the middle of trying to tame my crazy hair. Nice. Then this week, I received an apologetic phone call stating there is an agent in my neighborhood RIGHT NOW who wants to come show the house. Ahhh!! Luckily, I had been preparing to leave, so I was able to rush out of here within 3 minutes with everything all bright and shiny and ready to SELL SELL SELL. Then, two nights ago, I was sitting at home, watching TV and waiting for a friend to come over when there was a knock on the door. It was 7:30, over an hour past understood home-showing hours, but despite that an agent stood outside my door with a family asking if they could see the house. Since we REALLY want to sell and hate to turn any prospective buyers away, I swallowed my irritation and asked for a minute to get my stuff together so I could get out of their way. I ran around turning on lights and putting things away and then went out and sat in my driveway while strangers came in and appraised my house. It would be so much easier to leave our house in nice, neat condition and go stay somewhere else. It's too much pressure! Plus, every time I go to take a shower, I'm paranoid that I'm going to not hear my phone ring and I'll step out of the shower to find people in my house. It's not your home anymore if it's not safe to be naked. That's what I say. June 19 Pun overloadIf ever you find yourself thinking, "Gee, I haven't heard many puns lately and am feeling sadly low on my pun-o-meter," then just click on over to Bravo and watch a few episodes of "Shear Genius." Within an episode and a half, you will be vomiting hair puns all over the couch. Gross.
Fun fact about "Shear Genius": it was filmed where my husband used to work in LA. It's not actually a salon, it's a weird kind of open floorplan office building for an artsy company, H Studio. From one camera angle, if you're at our house you'll hear my husband say, "Hey, my desk used to be right there." It's kinda fun. I swear.
Bravo kindly ran a marathon of the last episodes that I didn't see because I was gallavanting in Europe (choose Europe over TV every time...trust me). The one comment I must make is that if you are unwilling to have your hair cut, you should not go on a TV show that is a hair-cutting competition. Do they not screen their hair models AT ALL before they put them on the show?? People are so stupid. June 17 Wha....?Two days ago, I hit the big 3-0. I'm the last in my official birthday circle to do so, and they all gleefully reminded me that I am now OLD like them. Well, while I am hating to burst their bubble, I must disagree: 30 is not old. I guess working with primarily 80+ year olds gives me a nice, fresh perspective of what infants we actually are. Thank God for my geris.
Since dawn of my birthday, I have been happily inundated with baked goods and candy. Today, I am emerging long enough from this sugar-induced coma to tell you that the greatest thing about birthdays (especially when you ordered way too big a cake - which I highly recommend) is:
 How can you hate your birthday when this is what it brings you? I love my birthday. Or anyone else's birthday if I am lucky enough to be there the next morning. Mmmmm....cake. June 14 Thank you Cuba!I highly recommend Mint Mojito flavored gum by Orbit. It has high potential to be gross, but surprisingly is not...actually, it does taste quite like a mojito. And chewing gum is more socially acceptable than getting your drink on at 11am. Unless you drink in secret. Then you probably don't care about the gum.
Speaking of getting your drink on, Pearl should win some kind of award. June 13 Oh, Alton...I usually avoid watching Alton Brown on FoodTV as much as possible. He gets too scientific with food, which usually my inner-nerd would love, but sometimes it's too much information and ruins the mystery. I like mystery. Especially with food. Don't tell me what's in it and I'll be much happier eating it. But today, Mr. Brown did a whole half hour on TOAST. I love toast. I am a toast master. Frequently, I am called upon to make "professional toast." I do this gladly. So today, I cracked and watched Alton go on and on about toast. I was transfixed. He may have inspired me to buy a toaster. (I've been strictly toaster oven for years). I don't think it's possible, but my toast might get even better after today. Surprise!So, for the last two months, I have been teetering on the brink of insanity as I have finished my fifth year (of six) of grad school. Every couple of weeks, I got sick with a delightful sinus infection/cold/flu/something, and then took off to Europe for three weeks in the middle of it all. Europe was wonderful and relaxing and everything Europe is that keeps us Americans going back there over and over again...but the timing on my part was clearly stupid. I'm okay with that.
The big surprise? The brink of insanity is a candy haven, and that's probably why I end up there so often. But if you go over the edge, they make you exercise to work the calories off, so it's best to grab the candy and beat a hasty retreat. I have perfected this move, so call me for free advice. But beware adult-onset diabetes. I can't help you with that.
So here I am, on the sane side of that line, with another master's degree under my belt (whoopdedoo!), and nothing to do for the next six weeks but entertain the world with my daily pontifications (serious whoopdedoo!). April 10 Uh...There's a facial cream commercial that starts out saying "Lycopene is"...but to me it always sounds like they're saying "Like a penis"...and then I have to do a double-take as my brain gets stunned by the scary possibilities of a facial cream commercial that starts out with a comparison to male genitalia.
This is why I usually skip commercials. It's just too much. March 03 I Palindrome IAs we have learned now that the internship process has ended well and we have been successfully placed at the Miami VA Hospital, it is time to consider more important things. The biggest realization of the week: My life is becoming a palindrome!!
HOW EXCITING!
I luuuuuuuuuuuuv palindromes! (That's right. I'm not afraid to admit it!) I <3 Palindromes. Kiss kiss.
I grew up in Palm Beach County.
Then I moved to Miami.
From there I went to Tampa.
Then it was off to California. Uh-oh, now it's back to Tampa.
Gasp! Back to Miami.
And ultimately, my goal is to live in Palm Beach County again.
Ta-da! You know you wish you were me!!! February 25 One more thing...Okay, I just have to say WHAT IS JENNIFER HUDSON WEARING? Someone get her to take that horrible shrug off! The aliens will use it to locate the earth and blow us to smithereens! OSCAR!Okay, so after a month of insane movie marathons, I feel ready for the Oscars, but overall I am actually not too excited. A lot of the movies I've watched have been a letdown. Underwhelming. Disappointing. Anticlimactic. My favorite for Best Picture continues to be "Little Miss Sunshine," but I am sad, because comedies rarely have a chance to win. Boo. All the same, I will devote 6 hours of my life to this spectacle. But I REFUSE to get anywhere near Joan & Melissa. Ryan Secrest is hard enough.
I am looking forward to Ellen hosting. Please let's not ever have Chris Rock ever again. Never.
Oh, and I hate the "perpetual loser" stories like Martin Scorcese. Give the man a break. Stop talking about it. It's just a jinks. Geez.
Painful! It's Al and Tipper Gore on the red carpet! MY EYES! MY EYES!!! Take the mike away from him! Please! PLEASE! What is Secrest talking about? Do Leo and Cameron hang out at your crib? Our former VP just gave the blankest stare. Oh, and then suggested that William Hung from AI should play him in a movie. I can't take it.
Okay, I am now recognizing that if I don't close this window now, you will all end up reading a ten-page play-by-play of my reactions.
(He did not just say "badunkadunk." Oi.)
I will spare you. Good night! February 11 But I'm never going to use this in real life...From an algebra test given by a New Mexico high school teacher:
Smoky J. sells meth. Smoky's source says he has to sell a G's worth of meth by the end of the month. If Smoky sold 240 dollars the first week and 532 dollars the second week, how much money must Smoky make if he wants to avoid the beatdown from his connection?
NOW we're learnin', kids!!
February 10 Brain balloonOver the course of my life, I have learned firsthand there are many different things that can make you feel like your head isn't entirely attached to your neck. This week, it's been the haphazard cocktail of various cold remedies. Here's something I don't recommend: Take a double dose of Mucinex on an empty stomach. Follow up with Nyquil. Sit down and watch "The Science of Sleep" while getting hopped up on M&M's and cherry Tootsie Pops. The one thing that is guaranteed following such an experience: deep, hard sleep, peppered by dreams so real you will wake up full and sated from that amazing chocolate donut.
Before all this psycho med mixing began, I stumbled upon another manner of driving yourself right to the brink of nuts.
Having had my glasses confiscated by the optician to have the lenses replaced with a stronger prescription, I was resigned to wearing my new contact lenses. I woke up quite late and had to hastily put the contacts in then run out the door. Usually when I wear contacts after having spent months wearing only glasses, things feel a little surreal and wavery for the first 10 minutes or so. Well, this time around, those first 10 minutes passed, and it was beyond a little wavery...I was trapped in the funhouse mirror room with respite not forthcoming...and it was too late to go back home to do anything about it. We were on our way to church, and I was beginning to dread having to read powerpoint slides from 50 feet away. To add to the fun, the funhouse effect was beginning to make me nauseated. To keep from tossing my breakfast on my shoes, I had to try to keep one eye closed at all times and avoid looking at anything in the distance, which meant my gaze was fixed on the floor in front of me. It was hard to not appear rude. Forget rude, it was hard to not look like a socially-stunted paranoiac escaped from the local lockdown facility. By the end of those 3 hours, I was quite incoherent in my optical misery and my dear husband did his best to steer me away from people we actually know. When we got home, I lurched my way to the bathroom and pulled the contacts out, still wondering what could have possibly gone wrong. I fished the containers the contacts came in out of the trash and peeled up the "R" and "L" stickers the optician had so helpfully placed to remind me what goes where. Had the optometrist gotten my prescription very wrong? Was I given the wrong size lenses? No. No no no. The optician in her quest for helpfulness had mixed up the R & L stickers, which would in fact be very NOT helpful. For most people this would not be a big deal, but my left eye is twice as bad as my right eye. So, for the previous 3 hours, I had been wearing a contact that was two times too strong in one eye, and a contact that was only half strength in the other eye. If you want to know what it would feel like to lose your mind, I recommend trying this. Oi...just writing about, I'm feeling nauseated all over again. Excuse me. February 07 Ick.The idea of Eva Mendes kissing Nicolas Cage makes me throw up in my mouth a little. Or a lot. Oh geez...the cheeseburgers are coming back................ February 01 The Amazing CyrilOkay, now not only is this a pretty cool magic trick, but you also get to meet Cyril, the Japanese David Blaine. Listening to him talk hurts...the random half-English phrases, the over-exagerrated gestures...but the best part of the whole thing is the sounds of dismay and amazement coming from the crowd. I LOVE the Japanese!!
Now, meet Cyril:
Be amazed!! |
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