I like chocolate milk very much

Wow. Just...wow.

2007-09-25T10:40:00.000-05:00

This article is from my favorite new website, Consumerist.com:

"The Harvard Crimson ran a story last week about a student who was asked to leave the premises for writing down the prices of six textbooks at the Coop, Harvard's bookstore of record. The bookstore's president says that there's no official policy against students writing down information, but "we discourage people who are taking down a lot of notes." But what's more surprising, he tells the Crimson that the textbooks' ISBNs—which can be used to look up the same books online—are "the Coop's intellectual property."
The Crimson speculates that the Coop may be reacting this way because of Crimsonreading.org, an online database that lets students search for the lowest prices by using ISBN. Harvard's Undergraduate Council President says he's spoken with an intellectual property lawyer and confirms that the ISBN-ownership claim is hogwash.
We understand taking severe measures to protect your business against cost-cutting competitors—especially when they have a business model that potentially gives them the upper hand against your traditional brick-and-mortar establishment. But we think it's pretty hilarious to invent copyright law. And we wonder, do they own the ISBNs of all books, or just the ones in their inventory? Does the publisher have any ISBN ownership rights? Maybe we should create some sort of international, standardized book numbering system so we can replace this proprietary one.
Anyway, so yeah, don't use ISBNs without writing to the Coop first and asking for permission.
"Coop Discourages Notetaking in Bookstore" [The Harvard Crimson, submitted by Joe—thanks, Joe!)"

In case anyone doesn't know, the ISBN is the "International Standardized Book Number" which is unique to a particular edition of a book--even between paperbacks and hardcover. If you search by ISBN you will get exactly what you need, even if there are multiple titles with the same name.

This is wrong on many levels. And just silly, really. I don't have much to say about it, but as a librarian I am appalled that a bookstore would make a claim like that. Intellectual property? How is an international standardized number their property? It is public information available to everyone; there is no way you could call that a 'trade secret' protected under intellectual property laws.

If the ISBNs belong to that Harvard bookstore, aren't they angry that all the other bookstores are using their ISBNs?

I'll be curious to see if this goes any further.

Amelie

2007-07-11T14:08:00.000-05:00

Remember in the movie Amelie when the narrator is introducing the characters, how every character is defined by an idiosyncratic list of things they like or dislike? The narrator would tell you what the thing was and you would see a slightly humorous depiction of the character's reaction to that thing.

If I were in that movies, the things I like would have been:

--standing outside on a windy day
--snuggling into warm sheets from the dryer
--organizing a closet

My dislikes would be:

--being around people wearing strong perfume or cologne.
--any kind of unidentified rattle or noise in a moving vehicle (not from the vehicle, although that is alarming, but rather something in the car making noise).
--when people (coworkers) won't stop talking to me when I am clearly feeling non-conversational.

Amelie's mother disliked, among other things, the pillow-creases that you get on your face while you are sleeping (unless you're a no-good back sleeper (sorry, I'm just bitter because I can't sleep on my back, a fact which creates pain in my life)).

Point of the story:

Last night was the midnight premiere of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, which meant I didn't really get to sleep until after three. I woke up swearing at 7:52 (I work at eight) with the mother of all pillow creases stretching vertically across my face.

That damn crease stayed on my face until 11 am.

Now is the part where I bring everything together and end with a pithy or clever comment, but between my red eyes and constant yawning, this is all I've got until after that pillow gets a second chance at my face.

Why I hate Roman Numerals

2007-07-06T09:51:00.000-05:00

or, "Roman Numerals Do Not Automatically Make You Seem Smarter."

Dear publishers of newsletters, magazines, journals, and newspapers (I'm looking at YOU, newsletters),

I realize that publishing a periodical can be difficult. It's hard to keep track of all those numbers, and to remember what volume you last sent out. It's perfectly fine to say that you publish twelve times per year when in fact you publish 7, or 2 or whenever you feel like publishing. I can deal with that.

I understand that sometimes you may decide to change the title of your publication without warning, so that I don't recognize it when it comes. I understand that. I even understand it when, after some indeterminate amount of time, you inexplicably change the title again-- revert to the original or perhaps to something else entirely. I don't mind. Really, I don't.

I understand when you get behind, and your fall 2005 issue isn't published until June 2007. I mean, I personally think it would make more sense to just give up on 2006 entirely and get back on schedule. But hey, it's your prerogative.

It would be nice if you would try and be consistent with things. When you switch back and forth between seasons and months it just makes things so messy. I am a perfectionist though, so maybe that's just me.

There is one thing I don't understand, however, and it is this:

Why, oh WHY do you insist on using Roman Numerals when you have NO CONCEPT of how they work?

This may come as a surprise, but it doesn't make you seem smarter when you're using them incorrectly. Let's look at you for example, CN News. You are on your 93rd volume. Clearly, you are an important organization that has been around for a long time--Good for you! Do you think that your publication is made more, or less respectable when you write the number 93 as LXXXVVIII?

(that's 50+10+10+10+5+5+1+1+1. It's the two fives that really get me).

I know, I know. It does look impressive to see all those numbers stretched out across the page. But if you know anything about roman numerals? Not so impressive. 93 is XCIII (That's 100-10+1+1+1). I'll let you in on a little secret, "When you make up your own roman numerals, people laugh at you."

Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but please please go to Google and type "roman numeral converter." It is SO EASY.

Pleadingly yours,

The Chocolate Milk Girl.

We Shall Overcome

2007-07-03T15:30:00.000-05:00

Ha ha! I have finally conquered Blogger whilst managing to keep all my secret identities separate!

I'm rather embarrassed at how long it's taken me, but I blame grad school mostly. That and getting a real job in which I do not spend the entire day entertaining myself on the internet to stave off utter boredom. That and not feeling like blogging anymore. That and not having internet at my little* apartment.

I warn you, my return may only be temporary, as none of the conditions mentioned above have really changed.

Also, I discovered a post I wrote back in October, but for some reason never made public. It's a rather passionate essy I wrote entitled, "Why I Hate Dreaming." I've added it below, for your reading pleasure.

*Little, in this case, is not merely an adjective used as a term of endearment. My apartment, while not a studio, would cause claustrophobia in many people. I do love it though. And did I mention I live alone? Bliss, utter bliss.

Newbery Award Reader

2007-07-03T11:43:00.000-05:00

Ok, because I'm not in school for the next two months, I have decided to begin my newest reading plan. Actually, it's my first reading plan because I've never read anything from a list before. I mean, I may have read a book from a list but I've never set out to read an entire list. Mostly when it comes to reading lists I just use them as a satisfying source of crossing things off and feeling superior. I read a lot peeps, I'm telling you.

Well imagine my horror when I looked at the Newbery Award list, and I've only read about 20% of the books! Me! Who wants to get a job recommending books to kids! Inexcusable. And not that great of a turnout for someone who claims to love YA books most of all.

So the Newbery Award has been around since 1922. That's um...*mental math*....um, still mental mathing...86 books. Give or take one. I also plan on reading all the Newbery Honor books, but I think I'll start with just the winners. And then there's the Printz Award, which is specifically for YA. The Printz has only been around since 2000 though, so I should be able to knock all those off pretty easily.

In theory, I will be commenting on these briefly as I read them. I think it will be really interesting to look at the winners through time.

(The books in pinky red are ones I have read. The ones in blue are ones that I suspect I have read, but won't know for sure until I start to read them again). I think I'll begin way back when, in 1922.

Read on. (My comments on the books as I read them are here).

Association for Library Service to Children
Newbery Medal Winners, 1922 – Present:
2007: The Higher Power of Lucky by Susan Patron, illus. by Matt Phelan
(Simon & Schuster/Richard Jackson)
2006: Criss Cross by Lynne Rae Perkins (Greenwillow
Books/HarperCollins)
2005: Kira-Kira by Cynthia Kadohata (Atheneum Books for Young
Readers/Simon & Schuster)
2004: The Tale of Despereaux: Being the Story of a Mouse, a
Princess, Some Soup, and a Spool of Thread by Kate
DiCamillo (Candlewick Press)
2003: Crispin: The Cross of Lead by Avi (Hyperion Books for Children)
2002: A Single Shard by Linda Sue Park(Clarion Books/Houghton Mifflin)
2001: A Year Down Yonder by Richard Peck (Dial)
2000: Bud, Not Buddy by Christopher Paul Curtis (Delacorte)
1999: Holes by Louis Sachar (Frances Foster)
1998: Out of the Dust by Karen Hesse (Scholastic)
1997: The View from Saturday by E.L. Konigsburg (Jean Karl/Atheneum)
1996: The Midwife's Apprentice by Karen Cushman (Clarion)
1995: Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech (HarperCollins)
1994: The Giver by Lois Lowry(Houghton)
1993: Missing May by Cynthia Rylant (Jackson/Orchard)
1992: Shiloh by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor (Atheneum)
1991: Maniac Magee by Jerry Spinelli (Little, Brown)
1990: Number the Stars by Lois Lowry (Houghton)
1989: Joyful Noise: Poems for Two Voices by Paul Fleischman (Harper)
1988: Lincoln: A Photobiography by Russell Freedman (Clarion)
1987: The Whipping Boy by Sid Fleischman (Greenwillow)
1986: Sarah, Plain and Tall by Patricia MacLachlan (Harper)
1985: The Hero and the Crown by Robin McKinley (Greenwillow)
1984: Dear Mr. Henshaw by Beverly Cleary (Morrow)
1983: Dicey's Song by Cynthia Voigt (Atheneum)
1982: A Visit to William Blake's Inn: Poems for Innocent and
Experienced Travelers by Nancy Willard(Harcourt)
1981: Jacob Have I Loved by Katherine Paterson (Crowell)
1980: A Gathering of Days: A New England Girl's Journal, 1830-1832
by Joan W. Blos (Scribner)
1979: The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin (Dutton)
1978: Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson (Crowell)
1977: Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry by Mildred D. Taylor (Dial)
1976: The Grey King by Susan Cooper (McElderry/Atheneum)
1975: M. C. Higgins, the Great by Virginia Hamilton (Macmillan)
1974: The Slave Dancer by Paula Fox (Bradbury)
1973: Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George (Harper)
1972: Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C. O'Brien (Atheneum)
1971: Summer of the Swans by Betsy Byars (Viking)
1970: Sounder by William H. Armstrong (Harper)
1969: The High King by Lloyd Alexander (Holt)
1968: From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E.L.
Konigsburg (Atheneum)
1967: Up a Road Slowly by Irene Hunt (Follett)
1966: I, Juan de Pareja by Elizabeth Borton de Trevino (Farrar)
1965: Shadow of a Bull by Maia Wojciechowska (Atheneum)
1964: It's Like This, Cat by Emily Neville (Harper)
1963: A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle (Farrar)
1962: The Bronze Bow by Elizabeth George Speare (Houghton)
1961: Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O'Dell (Houghton)
1960: Onion John by Joseph Krumgold (Crowell)
1959: The Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare
(Houghton)
1958: Rifles for Watie by Harold Keith (Crowell)
1957: Miracles on Maple Hill by Virginia Sorenson (Harcourt)
1956: Carry On, Mr. Bowditch by Jean Lee Latham (Houghton)
1955: The Wheel on the School by Meindert DeJong (Harper)
1954: ...And Now Miguel by Joseph Krumgold (Crowell)
1953: Secret of the Andes by Ann Nolan Clark (Viking)
1952: Ginger Pye by Eleanor Estes (Harcourt)
1951: Amos Fortune, Free Man by Elizabeth Yates (Dutton)
1950: The Door in the Wall by Marguerite de Angeli (Doubleday)
1949: King of the Wind by Marguerite Henry (Rand McNally)
1948: The Twenty-One Balloons by William Pène du Bois (Viking)
1947: Miss Hickory by Carolyn Sherwin Bailey (Viking)
1946: Strawberry Girl by Lois Lenski (Lippincott)
1945: Rabbit Hill by Robert Lawson (Viking)
1944: Johnny Tremain by Esther Forbes (Houghton)
1943: Adam of the Road by Elizabeth Janet Gray (Viking)
1942: The Matchlock Gun by Walter Edmonds (Dodd)
1941: Call It Courage by Armstrong Sperry (Macmillan)
1940: Daniel Boone by James Daugherty (Viking)
1939: Thimble Summer by Elizabeth Enright (Rinehart)
1938: The White Stag by Kate Seredy (Viking)
1937: Roller Skates by Ruth Sawyer (Viking)
1936: Caddie Woodlawn by Carol Ryrie Brink (Macmillan)
1935: Dobry by Monica Shannon (Viking)
1934: Invincible Louisa: The Story of the Author of Little Women by
Cornelia Meigs (Little, Brown)
1933: Young Fu of the Upper Yangtze by Elizabeth Lewis (Winston)
1932: Waterless Mountain by Laura Adams Armer (Longmans)
1931: The Cat Who Went to Heaven by Elizabeth Coatsworth (Macmillan)
1930: Hitty, Her First Hundred Years by Rachel Field (Macmillan)
1929: The Trumpeter of Krakow by Eric P. Kelly (Macmillan)
1928: Gay Neck, the Story of a Pigeon by Dhan Gopal Mukerji (Dutton)
1927: Smoky, the Cowhorse by Will James (Scribner)
1926: Shen of the Sea by Arthur Bowie Chrisman (Dutton)
1925: Tales from Silver Lands by Charles Finger (Doubleday)
1924: The Dark Frigate by Charles Hawes (Little, Brown)
1923: The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle by Hugh Lofting (Lippincott)
1922: The Story of Mankind by Hendrik Willem van Loon (Liveright)

Strawberry, blackberry, schnozzberry, Newbery

2007-07-03T11:04:00.000-05:00

1922: The Story of Mankind
Well, this is getting off to a slow start. The reason? The first book on the list is called "The Story of Mankind." When I ordered it from the library I noticed that it was shelved in the Adult non-fiction section. That seemed ominous. It's very outdated. I imagine that in its day it was quite controversial; 1922 seems early for a kids book teaching evolution to win a prestigious award like the Newbery. I'm slogging through it, but so far I'd say this book is no longer relevant. Way to go, Newbs.

8/15/07
I've read the first four books now, and just finally finished "The Story of Mankind." That was a chore. I can see how it was well-written and very well organized for its time, but it is pretty irrelevant now. Also: pretty boring at any time. The main thing that bothered me was how much the author assumed. He would say, "And the rest of this story is common knowledge," and then he would go on. That's just not ok for a book aimed towards young readers. Blah.

1923: The Voyages of Dr. Dolittle
I was wrong; I hadn't read this book before. I must have read one of the others in the series though (there are about 12). It was pretty good. I didn't love or loathe it. The edition I had was 'edited' in terms of the language and treatment of native peoples, but even so I raised my eyebrows a time or two. I can see the appeal of these books, it was a great adventure and wildly imaginative. The chapters read more as individual stories in sequence than one long story, but that's a good thing for emerging readers. It is very very English though, in terms of language, lifestyle and sensibilities. I think it would be a fun read-aloud story.

1924: The Dark Frigate
Pirates! This is the most piratey pirate tale I've read. There's nothing romanticized about the pirates life here and to be honest, it's a solid PG13 in terms of violence. This book is a really good example of the influence of the Victorian belief that children were merely small adults. There are no themes of childhood, or even young adulthood in this book. It is exciting, action packed, and completely rooted in the adult psyche. I quite enjoyed it.

1925: Tales from Silver Lands
This is an excellent collection of folk/fairy tales. I'm not sure if these are actual folk tales, or if they are literary tales, but either way they are great. As someone who has read loads and loads of fairy tale anthologies (middle school age) it was really refreshing to read these. The stories are set in some Spanish speaking land, (but not Spain) so they are unique to the European tales. As I said, that's very refreshing. As much as I love fairy tales, it gets redundant with the European tales, because every country has variations of the same tales. It was great to read some really new stories.

Dream a Little Dream of Me

2006-10-10T14:43:00.000-05:00

Last night I had, like, six million crazy dreams. I hate dreaming. Did you already know that? Anyway, I HATE dreaming. Since I have cultivated this opinion about dreaming, I have found that it makes people very uncomfortable, even angry when I say, "I hate dreaming." It seems to be an opinion that I'm not allowed to have, because any time I say it people try to prove that I can't hate dreaming, or that my opinion is wrong because dreaming is awesome. Maybe for you, but NOT FOR ME.

Reasons I Hate Dreaming.
by: The Chocolate Milk Girl

1. Dreaming, to me, is very uncomfortable. When actively dreaming, I'm tossing and turning and waking up constantly; I become extremely disoriented and have a very difficult time actually waking up. Result: I'm always running late if I have been dreaming, and I'm always extremely tired the next day no matter how long I slept.

2. My dreams suck. I can't tell you the last time I had a pleasant fun crazy dream. My dreams are always weird and unsettling, and I often have nightmares. Usually it's just a bunch of random stuff that I was thinking about the day before put together in some sort of unpleasant context. Because of this I don't really put a whole lot of stock in 'dream interpretation.' My dream interpretation goes like this: Last night I was reading the hobbit; Sam Gamgee was in my dream. Last night I was thinking about chocolate milk; in my dream, the sacrificial babies came from the dairy aisle in the grocery store. Last night I was thinking about my friend whose going away party I feel bad about skipping; in my dream she wouldn't talk to me and I felt bad. Whoa, those are deep, man.

3. In the interest of honesty, I do occasionally have what I call 'adventure dreams' which are not entirely unpleasant. In these dreams I'm usually a spy, war liaison, or adventurer. These dreams are very suspenseful and are often quest dreams. There is always a very pervasive sense of evil that I am fleeing or fighting against. They are usually scary, and involve death. I don't usually count these as 'bad' dreams, because I wake up with a sense of wanting to continue the dream to find out what happens. But really, they're not good dreams and I'd still rather not have them.

4. Real life examples:
a. A plane crashes in the back yard, containing my mother who is calling for me to help her, but I am too scared to help her because the plane might blow up. I wake up crying.
b. A giant dog is force-fed babies, and when the dog can't fit the baby in it's mouth, and man cuts the baby up. I wake up yelling, "You FUCKER."
c. A serial killer (a la Se7en) leaves a series of clues to his latest victim, who I find out was a former boyfriend. It is my fault he is dead because the killer is after me. I realize that the next victim will be my current boyfriend, and wake up bawling my eyes out.
d. (last night's dream) All my friends hate me. I wake up bawling.
I can't wait to go to sleep and have more dreams!

Other people may have insightful, wonderful dreams that make sleeping a meaningful and pleasant experience. That's just wonderful for them. Me? I hate dreaming.

The End

Send this to 10 people or your cat will die.

2006-09-12T09:04:00.000-05:00

Speaking of 9/11 and enragement (ok, I know we weren't speaking of either of those things, and for that matter I'm not even sure enragement is a word--even so), last night I got a text message forward.

Ok, first of all let's just pause a moment and let that sink in. A text message forward. Last time I checked, my phone was not a conduit for junk mail. Most people have to pay for their text messages, or are limited in the amount of free ones that they have. So annoying!

Second point of enragement, the message was this:

"In honor of all those who lost their lives on this day, send this message to 10 people and something good will happen to you. "

Wait. Where's the part where we're honoring "those who lost their lives?" Hmm...I must have missed that 'message'. Oh! I get it, it has nothing to do with 9/11. AT ALL. It's just a cheap excuse to justify another stupid chain letter. At least email forwards make an attempt to give you some sort of 'inspiration,' whether it's a cheesy 'true' story, or rhyming poem there's at least some body to the message.

There's no real message or honor involved, so the only reason to forward it is so that you will get something out of it. It's superstitious crap. Nothing good will happen because of this message, and it IN NO WAY honors anyone! Yes, something good will happen to you sometime after you forward the message, but does a day go by when something good doesn't happen if you're looking for it?

I'm disgusted.

I don't really mean to rag on people who've forwarded this message. I'm sure they didn't really think about it, just passed it on and then felt like they did something to remember September 11. But that's the problem.

Is this the best we can do? Wouldn't it be better to not remember at all than to remember in such a cheap, self-serving way? Why do we fill our lives up with cheap, kitschy, substitutes for emotion? Are we that afraid of actually feeling anything real? I don't have time for forwards, I'm busy with real life.

Disgustedly and rantingly yours,
the chocolate milk girl

Jumping Ship

2006-06-13T11:28:00.000-05:00

I might be jumping the gun posting this since I haven't given notice yet, but I GOT A NEW JOB!!! Hooray! No more American Awesome Products! I beat out 101 people to get what is the current equivalent of my dream job. I'm proud of myself and so happy I could burst.

That being said, for your mocking pleasure I give you the link to my current employer's website. It's a graphic design nightmare.

www.aopmn.com

Note: I wrote this in June but never published it. Now I don't care because I DON'T WORK THERE ANYMORE!!!! That is a hundred gallons of Chocolate Milk cool.

Hey there, little lady.

2006-06-01T08:21:00.000-05:00

Do I have a sign on my forehead reading, "Little Lady?" As in a, "Hey there little lady, make me some dinner since you've been lounging around the house all day while I put in a hard day's work at the office" sort of thing.

Because seriously, the owner of the company I work for asked me if I could sew a button onto a pair of pants for him. Truth! I was literally speechless. I mean, he is of an older generation. A generation where that's what a woman's role was. However, I am not of that generation, and I'm not his seamstress! I'm not kidding here, I was speechless. I sort of stammered that, yes, I know how to sew, but... By the time I got to the "but" he had already walked away. The worst part is that this place is so ridiculous that people just let him get away with that stuff. I wish I could remember all the questions he asked me at my interview that I now know are illegal to ask. I know he asked if I exercise, have a car, and if I'm German. Illegal! All of them!

So then, when I was leaving for the day, he said he'd bring the pants in next week, and motions me over to his desk where he has a knit stocking cap with a post-it on it. The post-it reads, "Cut three inches." He then asks if I can do that too. I tell him no, that's a knit fabric and it would unravel if you cut it. I mean, it could be done, but would definitely require a machine. I do sew, but I barely have time to do my own projects! Let alone free projects for the cranky old man who owns the company where I work!

Ok, so after I tell him it would unravel, he says, "Aren't there machines that can do that? Or can't you just sew it first and then cut under the stitching?" I was more speechless...and just kind of shook my head. I mean, he's right, but that's a complicated bit of sewing, because if you just sew it normally it will rip out; the point of a knit fabric is that it will stretch, and stretching will rip the seam unless you use a special stretch stitch.

I sent the following text message to some of my friends who know my disdain for this place of employment:

The owner of the company asked me if I could sew a button back onto a pair of his pants. True story. I need a new job.

I received the following replies:

Amanda: nice
Elasah: ha!
Lindsey: gurrrross

Angela (in a phone call): tears of laughter, and deep sympathy.

What is a girl to do?

Sad? Look no further.

2006-05-31T14:50:00.000-05:00

Ok, seriously, if this link makes your day half as happy as it made mine you will be an extremely delighted person.

I give you, this

How many...

2006-05-22T15:28:00.000-05:00

Q: How many Bloggers does it take to change a light bulb?

A: Bloggers won't ever get around to it. They've been really busy and meant to change the lightbulb, but just haven't had the time and life just gets crazy like that, you know?

Ha. I've been too busy obsessing over America's Next Top Model. Oh, shameless trash television, how I love thee! And, since I don't have a TV, I spent the first half of the cycle keeping up with it online. Thus, much of my work day has been spent with ANTM. I even dream about it sometimes!

This is why I can't have my own television. I have no self control and I'm OBSESSIVE.

In addition, my job is sucking all enjoyment out of life and I don't even have the strength to blog. Sad.

BUT, wasps that turn cockroaches into zombies!

And, remember kids, my job is making me miserable!

P.S. Dear Blogger, why does your spellcheck not know the word, "blogger?" Not to mention the complicated word, "blog?" And no, I do not want my correctly spelled "lightbulb" to be replaced by "lustfully," but thanks anyway, you incompetent excuse for proofreading.

Jesus Cheetoh

2006-04-27T12:25:00.000-05:00

Just go to this link. . .that is all.

The Jesus Cheetoh

Finals Week for a Blogger: A Play in One Act

2006-04-25T08:29:00.000-05:00

[5:50 am]

Alarm: “Be be be beep. Be be be beep. Be be be beep…”

Me: [Sitting up in bed] “Board?”

[Stagger to dresser and hit snooze button. Crawl back in bed.]

[seven minutes pass]

Alarm: “Be be be beep. Be be be beep. Be be be beep…”

Me: “Plank?”

[Stagger to dresser and hit snooze button. Crawl back in bed.]

[seven minutes pass]

Alarm: “Be be be beep. Be be be beep. Be be be beep…”

Me: “I wish my roommate didn’t use her space heater all year…I be that really hikes up our Excel bill.”

[Stagger to dresser and hit snooze button. Crawl back in bed.]

[seven minutes pass]

Me: “I guess I don’t really *need* a shower.”

[Stagger to dresser and hit snooze button. Crawl back in bed.]

[seven minutes pass]

Alarm: “Be be be beep. Be be be beep. Be be be beep…”

Me: “This would make a funny blog entry…the first thing I thought this morning was, “Board,” which made sense at the time.

[Stagger to dresser and hit snooze button. Crawl back in bed.]

[seven minutes pass]

Alarm: “Be be be beep. Be be be beep. Be be be beep…”

[Turn off alarm. Write blog entry instead of working on final papers due today which were completely blown off last night in favor of 1). Playing on the internets 2). Hanging out with people and 3). Sleeping]

[The End]

How to Fold a Shirt with Honor

2006-04-17T22:39:00.000-05:00

Today, grasshopper, you will see how to fold a shirt with honor

I miss Kit!

2006-04-17T15:21:00.001-05:00

There are too many things to say about the picture above, and too little internets time.

Also, look at the man in the photo below. Just look at him...
He totally looks like one of the characters in "Guess Who?"
"Does your person have . . . a white toupee?" (Follow this link and click on "Men's Styles" on the left--but only if you're prepared for Tim Allen to peer into your very soul)

And the woman. I have seen few people who look more rodent like than this woman.

More Homeless

2006-04-17T15:21:00.000-05:00

Best panhandler sign I've seen so far:

"Running for President: He took my job, now I want his."

I would have given that guy money, if I'd had some on me, that is.

I made up a Joke!

2006-04-14T08:13:00.000-05:00

Q: Why should a Skydiver never assume anything?

A: Because he might jump to a conclusion.

I called my Dad this morning to tell him this joke, and was talking to my family while I got ready for work. I was nearly ready to leave, but then I couldn't find my phone...

I've had it with these snakes!*

2006-04-13T21:59:00.000-05:00

I believe in my last post that I failed to make the connection between rubber snakes at the Conservatory and "Snakes on a Plane" By way of explanation I will reproduce (cut and paste, actually--God bless technology) an email that I received the day after the Conservatory snake throwing.

Re: Snakes on an Audience

"Hey,

I've been thinking for a while that it would be really fun/ny to buy as many rubber snakes as possible and throw them out over the audience at the first midnight showing of SoaP. Over the weekend, Amanda brought home this catalog from work (that you need to see) and they actually sell big bags of rubber snakes! For a mere $5 you can order a bag of 6 dozen 7" snakes in 6 different varieties! I plan on ordering at least two bags and I think Ben is going to get one too! That's 18 dozen, or 216 rubber snakes! August can't come soon enough."

I couldn't say it better myself: August can't come soon enough.

*Sam Jackson quote from the trailer. . .Man, what a line.

S.o.a.P, Flowers, and Clumsiness

2006-04-13T10:18:00.000-05:00

How do Snakes on a Plane, Flowers, and Clumsiness relate, you wonder? Well dear readers, I shall tell you.

It all began with a simple trip to the Como Park Conservatory with a certain gentleman of my acquaintance.

If you live in the Twin Cities and have never visited the Conservatory, you really really ought. It is a tropical wonderland full of enormous palm trees, exotic orchids, and a pond full of real live Koi! I love going there because, well, I like plants--but also because it is such a refreshing escape from city life.

Ok, I'm done with my advertisement. On with the stories.

Well, they have recently renovated the Conservatory and added on some new rooms. I'm very excited because one new room is a rainforest room, and it's going to have animals! I have always been fascinated by the rainforest, while at the same time knowing that I'm a little too girly about bugs to want be in it for a long time. Well now, thanks to Como Park, I get the best of both worlds! There is going to be a Sloth! Sloth!

Another addition to to the Conservatory is the Gift Shop. This is not your average gift shop. . . I mean, in a way it IS your average gift shop in that they sell gifty type items. However, this is a really fun gift shop with lots of fun items.

Translation: there are a lot of toys.

My companion for the afternoon--Mister--and I spent no little time playing with puppets, animal masks, marionettes and various other amusements in the shop. Well, Mister gets the bright idea to put a giant spider on my shoulder whilst I am looking at something else.

Now, dear readers, I don't know if I have shared this with you or not, but I am TERRIFIED of spiders. It is, I know, completely irrational. I know this. I also knew, in my mind, that the spider was fake. In my mind that is. This knowledge did not prevent me from freaking out.

Mister thought he was quite funny after this.

Fortunately for me, there were two important things that I realized/remembered. 1. the gift shop had bins full of rubber snakes. 2. Mister is totally creeped out by snakes. So being the nice forgiving person that I am, I crouch down and pick out a nice icky feeling snake and throw it a few feet so that it hits Mister. He freaks out a bit and throws it back towards me. I think that my behavior is hilarious and that I have been extremely clever. In fact, I'm laughing so hard as I crouch on the floor that I lose my balance and fall over. Ha ha. the joke turned out to be on me after all.

"Anna" means full of grace. I can only assume it means the other kind.

Homeless Season

2006-04-12T12:15:00.000-05:00

Spring brings many things to the Twin Cities, new growth, warm weather, and the re-emergence of the homeless population. Now don't get me wrong, the homeless are around all winter (somehow) but when Spring comes, there's just something in the air.

My work is located in a pretty seedy area near a couple of shelters. So far this Spring we've had to clear out a rat's nest of a homeless stash under the bush on our front lawn. Every day it would get cleaned out, and every morning there would be a new stash of garbage and junk under the bush. Until the day that a case of beer got thrown out, that is. Somehow the message got across after that, and there havn't been any more garbage sculptures out front.

Because our building is on the main walking route on the way to the shelters, we often have people come in the front door. It's always interesting to see what happens next.

Today, for example:

We hear the door open, and then nothing. My office manager (OM) has a direct view to the door, and he looks over and says, "Can I help you?"

A homeless man sans teeth comes over to our section of the the office and replies, "Actually, I was hoping you could help me." As pleasant as can be. "I was wondering if I could wash your two front windows out here."

OM: "I'm sorry, we don't really need them cleaned right now."

Homeless: with a air of outraged disbelief, "Hey man, I'm just trying to earn a dollar so I can eat."

OM: "I'm sorry, I really can't help you."

Homeless: scornfully, "What, so you're telling me you're not the American type then, huh?"

OM: understandably, has no actual reply to this

Homeless: looks around office for sense of camaraderie at his plight against this anti-American type--I am suddenly busy at my desk. Do not make eye contact, do not make eye contact.

Homeless: walks out, thoroughly disgusted with our un-American attitude.

Rise and Shine

2006-03-31T08:17:00.000-06:00

This Morning I woke up with two things stuck in my head.

The first was the song "Be Gentle with Me" by Boy Least Likely To.

This is normal.

The second thing was the phrase, "Wacky hijinks ensue."

This is not normal. At all.

Procrastination

2006-03-30T15:04:00.000-06:00

So, that plan sort of backfired.

After putting up the Lisa Loeb pics, now all the peole who were like, "What? Lisa Loeb? You don't look like her." are telling me,
"Actually, after seeing those pictures on your blog I can see the resemblance."

I mean, I don't care. She's certainly not too hard on the eyes, although she did have some bad hair going for a while (I didn't put up any bad hair pics. If I did look like her it wouldn't be the end of the world.

This whole thing is just sort of funny.

I'm listening to music right now and I'd like to take a brief moment to point out that the end of Depeche Mode's "Told You So" is terrifying.

In addition, I would like to point out that I am not at work. In fact I am supposed to be working on my 20 minute presentation that's due in less than 48 hours. Look at me go.

Just Call Me Lisa. . .

2006-03-28T09:53:00.000-06:00

People keep telling me I look like Lisa Loeb. . . I
don't, other than the fact that we both have dark hair
and eyes and often wear glasses.

But in honor of all the random people I've never met saying
that I look like her, here are some pics.

Sucker Punched

2006-03-28T08:18:00.000-06:00

So, last night I pretty much punched myself in the face.

Here's how it went. I was sleeping, and woke up because my arm had fallen asleep. It was way past pins and needles, to the point where it's completely numb and doesn't really feel like part of your body anymore and you're afraid to move it because it sort of feels like it might come off.

Yeah, it felt like that.

So I roll over on my back and lift up my whole arm from the shoulder straight above me (I believe that this was so I could "see" my arm and make sure it was still there despite being in the dark). Well, as soon as I relaxed my shoulder, I had no other working muscles to keep my arm up and it fell and hit me in the face. It hurt quite a lot. I never knew my own arm was so fricken heavy. I immediately fell back asleep while thinking, "I just totally punched myself in the face. . . My nose hurts. . .I should blog about this. . ."

Texting Too Much...

2006-03-26T18:00:00.002-06:00

You know you've been texting too much when, while typing at your computer (which has a full keyboard) you need to type a punctuation mark but hit the number one key instead of the key dedicated solely to that punctuation mark. Sad.

(I'm speaking hypothetically, of course. I would never text that much or make such a silly mistake. . .*cough*)

There's Nothing Sad Like a Wild Muffler

2006-03-22T16:22:00.000-06:00

See:

edit: I don't know why this isn't working.

You'd think it would be easy...

2006-03-22T14:06:00.000-06:00

You would think that putting socks on your feet would be a simple task, wouldn't you?

This morning I failed to rise and shine at my appointed time. I was actually an hour and a half late for work. I could have been rather close to on time, but once I overslept a little I figured I already had a good excuse and decided to continue oversleeping. Note to self: if your phone is your alarm clock you should make sure that the volume is not turned off before you go to sleep.

Ok, back to the socks. So I'm finally up and trying to get to work. I sit down on the floor to put my socks and shoes on. I pull on my first sock but when I go to put on the other one, I can't find it. I search side to side, I stand up to see if I was sitting on it. I look in my drawer to see if it came unfolded and I only grabbed one. Nothing. The sock has disappeared. Thinking that I may be going crazy, I shake my pants legs to see if it's there. Nope. Then I give up and pull out another pair of socks from my drawer. When I pull up my pants leg to take off the original sock, there's the missing sock--stuck inside the one that's already on my leg.

How old were you when you learned to get dressed?

Random Thoughts from a Brain Full of Headache

2006-03-21T09:08:00.000-06:00

Good Morning, dear readers. I know I've been a boring chocolate milk girl lately. I simply haven't felt like posting. It's not that I haven't had any stories, I just didn't want to write them.

One reason is that it has been very cold at my work, and all I want to do is sit huddled up in my chair or sneak into the back and stand in front of the heater. Actually, it's always cold at my work--I'm just colder because I've been wearing spring clothes. Now that the sun has decided to come back to our lovely state, it looks like it should be warm and nice outside all the time--and it is very often nice out. However, that lovely weather does not infiltrate my place of employ. Another reason I'm cold at work is that my little apartment is always a million degrees. It's steam heated and we don't have a thermostat--if it's too hot we have to open the windows. So I wake up, go out on the porch to see what kind of day it is, see that it's sunny, and I'm all toasty and warm in my little apartment--so the last thing I think of is wearing a big warm sweater because I'm going to work at my SUB ZERO office.

It's been a headache week like I used to get all the time. Owie. I really can't explain how awful it is to have a headache all day, go to sleep, wake up, and realize that you still have the headache. And you sleep awfully, especially if it's a nauseous headache--I'm really tired. Thankfully, I have an appointment with my Chiro tonight, and she'll make me all better by poking a bunch of little pins in me. Strange, but true. I'll do anything to get rid of these headaches, and that works.

In other news, there's been a lot of birthday-related shopping lately and I'm wearing a new shirt that I justified buying by saying "Well, I can wear it to work and it's long-sleeved (warm)." However, upon retrospect and wearing it to work, I'm actually sort of doubting it's inherent work-appropriateness. It's a drape neck, and very, er. . . drapey. Oh well. At least I'm doing something fun tonight, so it's not a waste of a good outfit. I just hate wearing nice things just for work. It doesn't make sense--I don't want to get dressed up for work! I want to get fancy for being with my friends and doing things that make me happy, not work. Ew.

Speaking of work, I have to go now.

I'm not afraid to say it.

2006-03-17T08:13:00.000-06:00

Joseph Arthur is John Mayer for music snobs.

There, I've said it; I'll defend that statement to the grave.

Slug Bugs

2006-03-08T11:19:00.000-06:00

So, this one time about two years ago, I went to visit my friend Corrie and her husband Sam at their apartment. Before they moved away I used to go over there a lot--no specific plans or anything, just hanging out. Corrie was working on a design for an Interior Decorating job she was trying to get, so the coffee table and most of the living room was covered in fabric samples, bits of paper, drawings etc. We were just chatting, catching up--you know, girl talk stuff. Then I got a phone call (from a boy who I would soon start dating). Corrie was sitting on the couch working on her project, and I was sitting on the floor next to the coffee table with my back against couch. Now, you may or may not already know this about me, dear readers, but I'm a very fidgety person. When I'm having a conversation, and especially if I am in any way nervous or excited, I cannot sit still. I play with my rings, or I tear up a napkin into little bits, or I mess around with whatever is in front of me.

Imagine this: I'm sitting there on the phone and I'm fidgeting. I'm messing about with all the little bits of fabric and things that Corrie has all over the place (remember that I'm not paying attention to what my hands are doing at all because I'm focused on this conversation with this boy). So I pick up a little bit of something, and--wait, something isn't right--I stop focusing on my conversation and look at what I'm holding. It's a slug. A Slug. A SLUG!

At this point I freak out.

"OhmygodIjustpickedupaslug." I'm hysterical. I'm practically rolling around on the floor shrieking --yes, shrieking--I! Just! Picked!Up! A! Slug!!!! !!!!! A SLUG!!!!

Corrie is laughing so hard that she's crying, Sam comes in from the other room to find out what's going on, and starts laughing too. The boy who I was talking to is laughing (and wondering what the hell is going on). I continue being hysterical.

I'm hysterical not because I'm scared of slugs. I'm not. They're gross, but I'm not phobic or anything. If I were at the zoo or something and there was a petting slug, I'd probably touch it. I'm more hysterical about the absurdity of the moment; I'm in someone's living room talking on the phone, and the next minute I'm holding a slug. This is not normal. This does not happen to people. You don't suddenly look down to see that you're holding a slug--except that I did. It took me quite a while to regain my composure.

I guess the moral of the story is "pay attention to what you're doing--you never know when you could be holding a slug."

100% Not B.S...At Least For Today.

2006-03-07T09:28:00.000-06:00

I know I know, "But Chocolate Milk Girl," you're probably thinking, "So many of your posts are full of B.S.--especially the advice ones!" Well, not today my dear readers. Today I will share with you multiple Really Useful Things To Know.

The first of which is this:

Do you hate it when you have to get up in the middle of the night to get a drink of water and you turn on the light and then your eyes get adjusted to the light, and then you can't see when you try and walk back to your bedroom and you trip on the coffee table and really hurt your shin? Well, here's a simple solution. Keep one eye closed when you turn on the light. The open eye will adjust to the light and allow you to pour your water without spilling. When you're finished, turn off the light. Now close your "light adjusted eye" and open the eye that you have kept closed the whole time. This eye is still adjusted to the dark, and you will be able to see that damn coffee table. It's great!

Useful Fact the Second:

Also, do you hate it when your shoelaces come untied all the time, but also hate it when you tie double knots and they are such a pain to untie? Well, problem solved! When you tie your shoes the regular way, instead of looping once around the 'bunny ear,' loop it twice before you pull it through to make the second 'bunny ear.' This takes a little getting used to, but it holds really really well and unties just like magic! Yay!

Useful Fact the Third:

Do your coworkers steal your lunch from the work fridge? Simply make a delicious sandwich using "Fancy Feast" catfood, lettuce, tomato, and cheese, and leave it sitting front and center in the work fridge. Your coworkers should quickly cease and desist their thieving ways. . . or at least you'll get a nice sense of satisfaction.

I forgot the best thing!

2006-03-02T13:05:00.000-06:00

I can't believe I forgot the share the very bestest thing of all about this week: It's now March!!!!
Yay! March is the bestest month ever!*

Why is March the Best Month Ever, you ask? Well, it's not because of St. Patricks Day (although being Irish I am fond of this Holiday). And it's not because the first day of Spring is in March (although that is VERY wonderful). Ok, ok, I'll tell you: March is my Birthday Month!

Oh Birthday Month, how I love thee. Why limit your celebrations to one day, when you can justify everything you want to do, buy and eat with four simple words, "It's my Birthday Month!" (this is only supersceded by the Birthday Week, and actual Birthday).

My bestest Birthday Month story is this.

Two years ago, I took myself shopping since it was my birthday month. I was at Rosedale mall, and was finished shopping and walking through the mall to get to where my car was. I passed a flower vendor, and because I LOVE flowers, I stopped to see what was there. As I was looking at some lovely pink roses, the flower seller came up to me and said, "Do you like those flowers? I'll give you a deal." The signs said that two dozen roses was $15.99 or something like that. I just kind of laughed and shrugged non-committally, and the guy went away to help someone else. I was still considering buying myself some flowers when the guy came back and said, "Come on, I'll give you the whole bucket for $15.99." I thought, It's my birthday month, I should get some flowers for myself. Then I said, "Sounds like a deal," to the flower guy. So I paid him, and he put the flowers in bags. There were four bunches of roses, so I felt like Miss America walking out of the Mall with this entire armful of pink roses.

It wasn't until I got home that I realized that there were actually TWO dozen roses in each bundle, so I 'accidentally' bought eight dozen roses for myself. I had roses everywhere, and I gave a bunch away. It was just absolutely lovely.

*You cannot fight with me about this. If you do you will be ruining my birthday month, and you might as well finish out the month by kicking some kittens. That will make you a bad person.

Good things about this week

2006-03-02T08:26:00.000-06:00

1. Finishing a big project due for class on Tuesday. Spent much time working on it. Then, after handing it in, finding out that it was only worth 10 points. Ten, that's it.

2. Not being late to class. I got to be there for every minute of boring lecture, every stupid pontificatory question/statement made by people in my class who like to hear themselves speak, and I also got to hear everyone's explanations of how exactly they interpreted the project, and was that ok, because according to the syllabus, that should have been ok, and they should not be penalized for interpreting it that way, because in class the Professor said this, so that's why they did it that way. Ok?

3. Staying home from work on Wednesday.
--Roommate: sick
--Co-worker: sick
--Library school friend Amanda: sick

I didn't have a chance, especially since I didn't get that new immune system I asked Santa for this past Christmas.

Things that make me act like a baby:
1. Sore throats
2. Cough syrup*
3. Cough drops*
4. Not having straws to drink out of when sick.
5. Sore throats
6. Spiders (not sickness related)
7. Having to leave the house when sick
8. Sore throats
9. Cough syrup/Drops*
10. Sore throats

*medicine that you can taste.

The Sun, I swear, is bleaching out my hair. . .

2006-02-23T13:58:00.000-06:00

Guess what's really dumb?

Ok, since I can't hear you guess (and there's, like, a million right answers to that question), I'll tell you: Not wearing a coat to work on February 23rd, 2006.

So, now guess who is really dumb?

I bet you've all got this one figured out.

On the plus side of things, the Sun has finally gotten off of its lazy butt and started making things warm again (such as the inside of my car when I got into it). It's about time.

Needed: Kitty Rest Home

2006-02-23T08:22:00.000-06:00

And now for a very sad story:

Once upon a time there was a cat named Lemmy. She was cute and furry, and her favorite things in the world were mint flavored gum, sleeping on freshly folded laundry, and making nests out of paper or plastic bags. Her nickname was Fuzzy. She also really loved drinking milk, and liked to paw people on the back when they were eating cereal, because she wanted them to share.

Lemmy found a home with the Pfeifer family about 11 years ago, when she was a young cat. She has had a happy life growing up with the three Pfeifer boys, being sassy, and getting chubby. Then, one summer the Pfeifer twins got asthma. For a while things were fine; the family got rid of the carpeting and switched to wood floors, and that helped for a while. But then the boys kept getting worse and worse, and the Dr. said that if they didn't get rid of the cat, the boys would have to have surgery and irreparable damage could be done.

And everyone was very sad. The Pfeifers loved Lemmy, and didn't want her to go, but had no choice. Lemmy was sad because she is an old cat now, and just wants to spend her days in quiet sunshine with some newspaper to nest in and someone to cuddle with at night.

The Pfeifers are now looking for someone to take Lemmy into a "Kitty Rest Home." They are happy to take care of her financially, if only she had somewhere nice to live out her days.

Is there anyone who could help?

Electronic Brains

2006-02-22T14:09:00.000-06:00

Who knew that being in Grad school could be so much fun? The past two nights I've met up with my friend Amanda to "study." I'll spare you the sordid details, but I would venture to say that our productivity is rather low. Along with a million embarrassing stories and inside jokes we do, however, have photo-documentation of each study session on our phones. I guess they were more 'photo' sessions or 'eating' sessions, or even 'sending text message' sessions than study sessions.* Oh well, fifteen-thirty minutes of studying is better than no studying, right? At least we're trying.

Anyway, the point of my story is this: I was doing some homework for my cataloging class, and I was working on Subject Headings. A Subject Heading is a term that encompasses all variations of a term. For example, Cats is the authorized subject heading for felines, kittens, housecats, etc. When you look up an authorized Subject Heading, it tells you all of the terms that it replaces. My book used the example of Computers. So I'm looking at this, studying it, and I read that one of the unauthorized terms for Computers is "Electronic Brains." Yes, you read that correctly. "Electronic Brains," it's listed right after "Desktop Adding Machines."

Now, I don't know about you, but if someone asked me to help find them information about "Electronic Brains" I would immediately suspect them of being some sort of robotic zombie**, because what else would a Robot Zombie eat besides "Braaaaaiiinnnnnnnnnnnns. . . Electrooooonic Braaaaaiiinnss."

*session is a good "Un-word it" word

**I would also suspect this person of being born in 1914.

To quote one of my favorite authors:

2006-02-21T09:56:00.000-06:00

"I'm so tired I can barely type these worfs."

Ha ha.

Actually, I'm not as tired as I ought to be, because Lord knows I'm not getting my 8-10 lately. Last Friday I was really tired, but I've already discussed why Fridays are like that here.

I am, however, really losing at the "get up and get ready for work on time" game. I mean, it's not my favorite game in the first place, but I would think I could make a better showing then I have been. If I were in the Olympics for 'getting ready for work in a timely manner' I would be booed out of the country. I mean I'm not horribly late; I'm on time enough to make the team, but I'm just not good enough to medal. I just hate hate hate being late or rushed for things, but I love love love sleeping. So that makes mornings somewhat problematic.

Also, I was having really weird dreams that involved shopping at a mob-run warehouse 'on the down low.' It was worth the chance of getting in trouble because everything was 15% off (?!) and you could spend up to $50! Wowee!

It was funny because I remember picking out a really atrocious wedding gift for Disco and Skye. It was this giant pig thing that was maybe filled with candy. I totally thought that they'd love it. There was a lot more, and some parts of it were really creepy. But, despite waking up and thinking, "Wow, I'm going to remember this dream," It's all gone from me now.

It's for the best, really.

How do I hate work today?

2006-02-20T09:23:00.000-06:00

Let me count the ways.

I can't count that high...never mind.

I really wish I could have continued sleeping today, instead of getting up and coming here. Although I have to admit to it being a nicer Monday morning than I've had in a while, that doesn't change the fact that it is Monday morning and I had to go to work. It's sunny and actually above freezing, so it would be really fun to stay home and play today.

I'm sure that I express the sentiments of Monday morning workers across the globe as I write this. Makes me feel so connected, I mean, I'm sure over in California my brother is feeling the same Monday morning blah, and across the room my office manager is clearly not happy to be here. We're all so alike, really.

I had a fabulous weekend, the majority of which I spent in LaCrosse with my sister. We didn't do much, but had a great time doing that. I feel bad for her because she's in her fourth year at UWL (El-ed major=5 years), and this year is just a ton of work, so she always has a bunch of work to do and is really stressed. Poor little hermanita! We talked in a lot of Spanish, made a lot of plans that we didn't follow through on, and went shopping. We only got in one real fight, too! (well, unless you count the "disagreements" about music . . . then we got in several fights). We both bought summer clothes on our shopping trip, which was funny because it was the coldest weekend in, like, two years. I can buy a swimming suit if I want to!

My favorite things about the trip were 1.) coming upon Back to the Future on tv and being unable to tear ourselves away from watching it. Now I really really really want to watch Back to the Future II 2.) Playing 'Apples to Apples' with a bunch of people, and having Em pick my card every round. There's really nothing quite as refreshing as quicksand, is there? Especially if you love The Princess Bride.

Aside: She just called me at work, and when I answered the phone she said, "Hi." And then there was a big pause while my heart started pounding and I frantically tried to figure out which one of my customers it was before they realized I didn't recognize them and got upset with me.
And yes, several of my customers do that. Mike for example, but I can usually tell when it's him because it's always at about 8:01 am, and I haven't even taken off my jacket.

Don't mess with Allenville

2006-02-17T09:39:00.000-06:00

Today I will share with you, my dear readers, one of my very bestest stories of youthful mischief and fun. This is one of the rare times in life when you feel like you're living out a scene in a movie--you couldn't have scripted it better. So sit back, dear readers, and enjoy.

As some of you may already know, I grew up in a tiny community in the country. Back in the railroad days my town was actually a town. Now it's just a grouping of houses in the middle of the country. My house is actually the old general store--but I digress.

There were about 12-15 kids in our neighborhood, and we did all the classic kid stuff like playing kickball and softball, riding bikes, and getting decked out in black for our nightly games of kick-the-can. Once I got into highschool, the group sort of changed and it became two semi-peaceful factions--"the guys" and "the girls." Of course, there were many pranks between these two groups, and I liked to consider myself an independent contractor in the prank business.

On this memorable occasion, my sister Emily and our friend Heidi came to me for help. The guys had pulled some lame trick on them, and they wanted to retaliate in a way that would prove without a doubt that they were the superior pranksters. So we came up with this plan:

I would send a message to the boys saying that I was mad at Em and Heidi, so I wanted to help them (the boys) to prank the girls. I told them that Em and Heidi would be sleeping out in Heidi's tree house on Saturday night, but that they were going to bed early because they were going shopping with Heidi's mom in the morning. So if they planned to prank them, sometime between midnight and one would be perfect.

Thus, the trap was laid.

By Saturday night, we were ready and waiting. Leah (another friend) and I were stationed in the treehouse. Em and Heidi were staked out in our van, which they had pushed out of the driveway to the front of the house. Aside: the boys hangout was about three blocks from Heidi's house, and our house was about halfway between them. We had walkie-talkies so that the other girls could warn us when the boys were coming (there was also camouflaged involved, FYI). We were well-equipped with weaponry. We had prepared, at my suggestion, two five-gallon buckets full of cold water-balloons. But here's where the genius comes in. We had also gotten a hold of some Butterscotch and Tapioca pudding, mixed that up, and planned to dip the balloons in pudding before launching them.

12:15: Right on schedule Em and Heidi signal to us that the boys are coming. We saw the guys riding their bikes around 'casually' for a few minutes before they left. We knew that they were just seeing if the coast was clear, so with rising anticipation, we continued to wait. About ten minutes later we received another signal from the van, and we knew it was time. Before long we could see figures stealthily approaching from the apple orchard behind Heidi's house. When they got to the tree-house, they started toilet-papering it. We let them get into it a little, and then we attacked. Words cannot express that scene. It was utter chaos as the guys tried to grasp what was happening (and what they were being slimed with). They ran around screaming like girls until a cease-fire was declared. Leah and I descended from our arboreal battle station, Em and Heidi showed up, and we all began reliving the successes(us) and failures (them) of the night.

But what were Emily and Heidi doing all that time? Did they really miss out on all the fun? Oh no, dear reader, they certainly did not. As soon as the guys passed the van the second time, those girls high-tailed it to the boys hang-out armed with toilet-paper, shaving cream, and "roadkill."* They did their work, left their calling card, and were back with us before the boys had a chance to suspect that there was something more in store for them besides pudding-covered water-balloons.

I'd say that we gave the guys a little something to think about before they pranked the girls again.

The End

*does not mean actual roadkill. This is something we made up. I should probably tell the roadkill story here sometime soon. So be patient, and all will be revealed.

Swearing Problems Solved--by me!

2006-02-10T15:41:00.000-06:00

Do you swear too much? Drop the "f-bomb" a little too frequently? Well, I have a simple solution. Instead of dropping the 'f-bomb' say "f-bomb."

Here's an example:

Lets say that hypothetically you are still blow-drying your hair when you realize that you are supposed to be in your car already. Normally you would say, "f**k!!!"

Instead, when you look at the clock say, "f-bomb!!!"

Once you've taken that small step of replacing all of your 'f**ks' with 'f-bombs' it will be no problem to then stop swearing completely. Especially when all your friends hear you say, "F-bomb!" after tripping over nothing. Your friends will be soooo supportive of you not saying 'f-bomb' anymore that you won't be able to believe it!

Un-Word It!

2006-02-08T16:03:00.000-06:00

Here's a game that my sister and I used to play (embarrassingly often actually, because while this game is really fun, it's one of those things that makes you look like an idiot).
The rules are very easy, you simply choose a word such as school and say it over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over until it stops sounding like the word you knew as school and starts sounding like a meaningless abstraction of sounds. It's more fun with two people doing it at the same time, becuase eventually one of you will mess up and start laughing. Hilarity ensues when you play 'Un-word it!.' However, it can easily be played alone as well. Follow the rules as above without alteration.

Other words that work well:
spoon
milk
class

Be creative, you are free to think of your own words.

I'm not kidding here, actually, it's a really fun thing to do.

Humor Lecture

2006-02-07T11:33:00.000-06:00

There's only one other person in the world that I know for sure will find this as funny as I do. It's from the brain of my good friend whb. Hopefully I'll be seeing him get hitched this spring, but that's beside the point (I mean, he IS getting hitched, but I may not be there because it's in PA).

Anyway, everyone should find it at least clever. Clever doesn't really give it its due, because it's really quite funny. Especially if you grew up without cable, and spent many a night doing nothing but watching whatever stations were still broadcasting at 2am just because you were awake.

What do non-cable stations broadcast at 2am, you wonder? Well, mainly infomercials. We always watched the infomercials for music collections. Therefore, this post goes out to anyone who knows what comes next, because they find whb's post as funny as I do:

"We had joy we had fun, we had seasons in the sun..."

(hint: has nothing to do with hills, wine, or song).

Snakes on a Plane

2006-02-06T09:33:00.000-06:00

No, this is not a bad joke. It's not even a good joke. It's not a joke at all.
It's. . . "Snakes on a Plane."

In case you have yet to hear of this forthcoming cinematic treat, I will take this opportunity to fill you in.

Just remember, this is not a joke.

Release Date: August 18, 2006
Studio: New Line Cinema
Director: David Ellis
Screenwriter: John Heffernan, David Loucka
Starring: Samuel L. Jackson, Nathan Phillips, Benjamin McKenzie
Genre: Action, Thriller
Plot Summary: Samuel L. Jackson stars in the intense action feature "Snakes on a Plane" from director David Ellis ("Final Destination 2," "Cellular"). Jackson plays an FBI agent who is escorting a witness on a flight from Hawaii to Los Angeles when an assassin releases hundreds of deadly snakes on a commercial airplane in order to eliminate the witness. The FBI agent, along with a rookie pilot, frightened crew and passengers must then band together in a desperate attempt to survive.
Trailer: Coming Soon!

(holy crap, are you excited or what?)

I don't even have the words to mock this premise. Honestly, what kind of lame assassin uses a massive amount of snakes 'in hopes' of killing someone? Obviously this person is an assassin-school drop out, and definitely doesn't deserve to have a movie made about his or her pathetic assassination skills.
People (like me) are so excited for this lame movie, that Wikipedia has an entry for it showing how this movie has been adopted into popular slang:

"Soon after Josh Friedman's blog entry, the title became a catch-phrase for common idioms such as 'whattya gonna do?' and 'shit happens', as well as for expressing mocking fear over a mild situation."

So far, "Snakes on a Plane" has already enriched my life by providing much hilarity in 2006. On New Year's Day, after a delicious brunch my friends and I somehow got on the topic of this film and spent a lazy afternoon coming up with similar plots.
"Eels on a Submarine"
"Jellyfish on a Helicopter"
"Earthworms on a Greyhound"

This movie is going to be a blockbuster because of people like us. Oh, we're so ironic.

Bestowing Wisdom

2006-02-03T11:17:00.000-06:00

Since I have achieved such wisdom in life, I thought that I should start sharing it with the people I care most about: my blog readers.

Today's topic will be 'Note-taking Strategies for School and Beyond'

Tip #1.
If you won't be tested on it, don't bother!

Tip #2
Don't waste time writing down small details--focus on the big and important things.

Tip #3
If you find your attention wandering during the meeting or class, change your note-taking strategy.
ie: if you are trying to take notes on photosynthesis and you just can't pay attention, try writing a note to a colleague or classmate--it doesn't even have to be on photosynthesis since you will be giving it away and not using it to study/work from. Instantly you will become fully attentive--magic!

In case you doubt my strategies, I will recreate (without altering) some notes that I took during a recent business meeting.

1/11/06
400 = level 4
500 = level 2

Nasty perfume
nose twitch while talking
says 'matrixes' vs. 'matrices'
hair = fur
giant snap sweater in 80's day glo.

By studying these notes, I can see that our marketing sales rep clearly needs a millennium makeover and a grammar lesson.

Go forth and take good notes, dear readers.

Dear Bloggette

2006-02-03T10:52:00.000-06:00

Hello my little bloggette,
I'm sure you are feeling a little neglected these days. I'm sorry. These crazy people I work for have actually been expecting me to work lately. It's very strange. However, I don't hate my job like I did in December--so that's good. It's good to not be mind-numbingly bored at work all the time. Things should settle down in the next couple of weeks. I should also admit that I've been spending some of my free-time at work doing grad school work. Who knew that grad school (of all things) could be so time consuming! Also, I must admit that I've been spending a lot of time playing on Facebook. I've also been buying a lot of shoes...but that's nothing new. I just ordered the cutest new ones! I'm so excited. I justified them by saying I will wear them to Skye and Eric's wedding--so thanks for the new shoes guys! Oh yeah-- and good luck with that, you know, marriage thing.

(not the pink).

Whew.

2006-01-26T08:23:00.000-06:00

Good thing I'm not a hand model (you know one of those people who get close-up pictures taken of her hands showing off different products).

"What?" you wonder, "But chocolate milk girl, you have such lovely model-like hands--they are always so perfectly manicured and moisturized! How can you say you shouldn't be a hand model?"

BECAUSE I AM CLUMSY. I have a very painful, very ugly little scratch on my right knuckle. I know it is from this morning becuase of the blood, but other than that I have no recollection whatsoever of how I got it. None. And I have one on my left hand from last week--same situation. How does one tear the tender skin on her precious hands so consistently and not notice? How?

Although I guess if I were a hand model I could invest in one (two?) of those bubble things that goes over you hand so that nothing can harm it. It would be pretty hard to type though.

What is this 'toner' you speak of?

2006-01-24T14:41:00.000-06:00

Me: "Hello, American Awesome Products*."

Customer: "Hi, I need some toner for my Lexmark 9000 blah blah printer."

Me: "Ok, what's the product number."

Customer: "I don't know. It's for a Lexmark blah blah blah..."

Me: "Do you have the old toner? It should say on the old cartridge what the number is."

Customer: "I don't have it with me, but it's the toner for a Lexmark blah blah blah...It's black ink"

I am not a printer/fax machine/copy machine expert! Nor is this a store that sells those things. I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TYPE OF TONER YOUR MACHINE NEEDS!!!!!!!

no.idea.what.so.ever

Look it up on the internets--that's what they are for.

whew, glad I got that off my chest.

*this is not the real name of my company

How did you like it?

2006-01-19T14:05:00.000-06:00

All the best blogs have a rating system. Therefore, I realize that my blog desperately needs a rating system. Otherwise my blog will feel left out, just like the 8th graders who don't have cell phones, ipods, AND digital camaras. My blog must have the best advantages, for the internets can be so cruel.

My rating will be (of course) in terms of chocolate milk. The best rated items will not only get more chocolate milk, but their chocolate milk will be of a higher quality.

Ratings are as follows, from best to worst:

5 /5 = a glass of delicious chocolate milk--the kind that comes pre-made and you don't have to stir or shake--and a pudding pop (so good you must be in heaven).

4 /5 = a glass of Nestle's Qwik (very very satisfying).

3/5 = a glass of Hershey's syrup mixed with milk (not great, but not complaining).

2/5 = a glass of chocolate slim fast (not that good, but with some redeeming value).

1/5 = a glass of milk with not enough chocolate mixed in (lame).

0/5 = no chocolate milk, but in fact the Gallon Challenge (makes me want to throw things, or throw up).

This is disturbing:

2006-01-18T08:58:00.000-06:00

Good news: I am smelling my favorite cologne, the one that makes me go weak at the knees.

Bad news: My office manager is the one wearing it.

Looking Back...

2006-01-16T19:08:00.000-06:00

My brother Doug is ten years older than I am. That means that he was 15/16 when my sister and I were four and six--when the problems started. We used to cry when Mom and Dad would leave, "Please please don't leave us with him!" Why did we dread him babysitting so much? Mostly because he made us clean our room while he watched tv. Very unfair. I remember that we made up a game called "Counting Cars" in which we would sit in front of the window and keep track of all the cars that went by until our parents came home. Rather pathetic actually. In retrospect, we probably annoyed the crap out of him. Actually, I have pretty solid evidence of this. Whenever we had a formal dinner for a birthday party or holiday--basically whenever we had guests and ate in the dining room--I would make placecards for where everyone was supposed to sit. Now, for some reason I thought that the funniest possible joke in the world was to write "Dog" instead of "Doug" and pretend it was a mistake--every time. The thing is, I remember doing this one time and having to look up how to spell dog. I also remember lots of weekends where Doug tried to sleep in while we endeavored to make that impossible. We practically begged for the opportunity to wake him up if Mom or Dad needed him for something. It was delightfully terrifying to sneak in and jump on the beast in the bed--you had to be quick--maximum annoyance in minimum time. You couldn't give him enough time to yell or retaliate--he was twice our size after all.

He likes us now, mostly.

Stereotyping is fun!

2006-01-11T09:01:00.000-06:00

There is a person in my grad school program who has been wearing a cloak/cape every time I have seen him. It is, of course, black. He also has long long thin hair that he wears ponytailed in in back, and a large crucifix worn over his cape. Also, he has a long goatee, but the kind that starts as sideburns and grows all the way down the chin on either side, but never meets in the middle. He described himself in one class (as reported to me by my library school friend, Amanda) as a "computer guru," and in last night's class shared that he frequently has to assure people that he is neither a monk nor a priest. He talks in that extremely precise nerdy way that you expect to hear from computer programmers/comic book obsessers--somehow an abnormally large amount of words have a 'sch' sound. Almost a lisp, but it's learned. I'm sure he owns either 1.) a broadstaff 2.) a broadsword, or 3.) a +20 cloak of fire.

2006: Now with More Resolution

2006-01-10T12:02:00.000-06:00

To prevent my blog from becoming too vapid, pointless, shallow, or silly* I have decided to dedicate this Tuesday's post to New Year's Resolutions. I will use this blog to better myself by keeping myself accountable to my New Year's Resolutions.

Last Year's Resolution: Wear more Black eyeliner

2005 update: I did very well at the beginning, but wussed out as spring waned. Towards June I peaked, with heavy usage through July and August. Toned back again in September due to work. This will not do.

This Year's Resolution: Appear friendly in public

also: Continue wearing lots of black eyeliner.

also: more happy hour

2006 two-week update: First off, I need to buy black eyeliner. "Plum" just doesn't get the same effect, although it does enhance my natural eye color.

Last night I went to the Spyhouse for hot chocolate (also delicious) and to do homework for grad school. I was not friendly, and I know for a fact that I had my mean face on. I can't help it!

there have been no happy hours

I'm failing at 2006

*this is a lie. I like my blog those ways.

Christmas Loot

2006-01-06T10:35:00.000-06:00

Best Christmas Gifts:

Season 1 and 2 of Arrested Development!!!! Hurrah!

FM Transmitter for my ipod!! Thank you Santa! (but I was serious about that whole immune system thing)

Bubble Tape! For the Bubble Tape Challenge!*

Worst Christmas Gifts:

A scarf that looks like someone skinned Grover from Sesame Street! Clashes fabulously with every coat or jacket I own! I think I forgot it at my parent's house...

Scariest Christmas Presents:

THIS from my dear brother Nathan. This gift inspired the most laughter as I was delighted with what I thought it was, but when I realized what it actually was, my face fell and my shoulders slumped, and I just said "oh." in a small voice. He considered it a victory.

A meat/candy thermometer circa 1962 from my Grandmother. It was new! About forty years ago! Note: not the strangest gift I have ever received from my 91 year old grammie, but it's definitely up there.

Lip Gloss Related Christmas Presents (aka: feeding my addictions)

Well, I didn't receive any Martian Mallow, but the holiday wasn't a loss as far as lip gloss goes.

I received the Philosophy "A Few Good Men" Lip gloss trio. This stuff is amazing. And it smell delicious. And it tastes delicious. Mmm...delicious lip gloss....

I also received (from myself) a Cherry Vanilla flavored "Sweet Talk" from my favorite store. It is rather disgustingly flavored. It smells like Robitussin when you first put it on...or maybe I'm just sensitive due to all of the Robitussin I drank during my last lengthy illness. It tastes good though, and smells good after the initial application. I should have chosen the Peach flavor. I'm glad I only paid $1.99 instead of the regular cost of $7.

Yes, I will continue doing lip gloss reviews on my blog. If you don't like it, don't read it. Some of us care about things in this world, you heartless bastard.

*Bubble Tape Challenge

2006-01-06T09:09:00.000-06:00

Have you ever wondered if it were possible to get an entire container of Bubble Tape into your mouth at once? Well, I have. It was Thanksgiving weekend and my sister and I bought Bubble Tape for the long car ride. After spending nearly three hours chewing, our jaws hurt, our teeth were coated with sugar, but we didn't stop. Oh no, there's six feet of goodness in every container. We were discissing the general merits and failings of Bubble Tape, when we wondered what would happen if you tried to chew the whole container at once. We vowed to try it.

And we did.

All I can say is that it is something that can only be experienced, not described. I think my Dad nearly wet himself (because of course we did this on Christmas Eve in front of the whole family).

Try it, you'll like it. Or, persuade some friends to try it. It will be the funniest thing you will do or see all year...I swear (by the moon and the stars in the sky. Yes, I swear).

Problem Solved!

2006-01-05T08:10:00.000-06:00

"Recent studies reported in real-life medical journals indicate that there is no such thing as a stressful life event--only stressful thoughts about life events. Therefore, if something upsets you or makes you nervous, stressed, or freaked out in any way, just don't think about it. The way to eliminate stress from your life is simply to stop thinking. Hurray! One less thing to do."

Remember, during these troubled times...

2006-01-03T12:32:00.000-06:00

Keep Kris in Xmas

What time does Christmas come?

2005-12-27T10:40:00.000-06:00

I've got this brilliant idea: I'm going to write a Christmas song. Ok, go.

Hmm...well, what should I write about? Santa Claus? "Santa Claus is coming soon..." nah, that's been done. "Better be good..." Oh, well, maybe another topic.

Um...how about Christmas itself? Ok, sounds good. Now, what about Christmas? Erm...well, ah...Let's see. Christmas is, ah, fun? ...

Christmas makes some people really crabby? No, no.

Christmas means gifts and decorations and love? Too cliche.

Wait, I've got it--Christmas comes this time each year! That's it, that's brilliant! It's truly a fundamental truth about Christmas, I mean, it DOES come this time each year.

No, no, we don't need a tune! We'll just sort of start at a note and descend repeatedly with each word in a sort of nasally monotone. Genius, pure genius. And we'll be rich rich rich, becuase no one will realize what a lame Christmas song this is. And, after all, Christmas comes this time each year!

nice...um, tentacles.

2005-12-23T09:47:00.000-06:00

Time spent with my family is crazy. In the best possible way. I come from a family of eight strong-willed, hot-tempered, and well, let's just come out and say it: opinionated people. I'm second, but there are ten years between my older brother and I, which effectively places me as a "oldest child" when it comes to birth order. I'm often the one trying to facilitate things like family movies, game night...and family photos.

Getting a family photo has proven very nearly IMPOSSIBLE over the years, with my older brother off in California and my youngest brother developing a very strong aversion to being photographed. Drives my poor mother crazy. So over Thanksgiving I determined that we would at least take a photo with all the family members present. Thanksgiving day would be the logical time to do so, I thought, since everyone would be dressed up. Well, various sibling threw temper-tantrums on various days until Sunday (the very last day we'd all be there) rolled around. We manage to all gather in the living room, and I set up the camera. My sister drags the extremely antisocial cat onto her lap, making my Mom and youngest brother upset that she is being mean to the cat. I tell her to let the cat go, she refuses, and I take a picture to see if everyone is lined up right.

Photo 1: Everyone but me. No one paying attention. Emily looking morbidly happy and is cuddling up to the cat, who looks as though it is counting down the hours until night when it can wake us all up with the disgusting noise of a cat hairball coming out.

I ask Emily to switch places with Nathan because her head is blocking his. She hears, "Emily, please move to the back so that your MONSTROUSLY ENORMOUS head will not dominate the whole photo," and gets offended.

photos 2-5: Elijah (the youngest child) thinks that this whole ordeal is funny, and makes faces in every photo. On threat of death, he decides to stop doing this.

photos 6-11: Nathan starts using his (superior) camera, but trips over the table and knocks the camera off-center EVERY TIME he sets the timer button.

photos 12-22: apparently the setting on the camera is waaaaaaaaay too long, because nobody can manage not to either 1. talk, or 2. turn his or her head.

photos 23-33: combined with the problems listed in photos 12-22, Elijah seems to blink at the exact moment the photo is taken, despite the camera's high-tech red eye/blinking protective flash.

after taking over 30 photos, we give up without a single decent family photo. And Elijah described my bangs as, "tentacles hanging in my face." He claims he didn't know what they were called.

Happy Thanksgiving Family!

Flying Cars?

2005-12-22T13:06:00.000-06:00

So, can anyone give me some explanation as to why this car is flying?

http://us.news1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/p/uc/20051222/lfb051222.gif

Valuable Life Lessons

2005-12-20T11:44:00.000-06:00

Last night I was talking to my mum on the phone. My throat hurt horribly and just walking across room used up all my energy. Anyway, so I was searching for my Vick's Vapor Rub to ease my poor throat. Now, it wouldn't matter to me if Vick's Vapor Rub has no medicinal value whatsoever--it makes me feel better, and makes me feel like I'm getting better. Well, I couldn't find it. I hate when I can't find things. I am excruciatingly organized; I know where all of my
belongings are. So I'm searching, talking, using up all my energy to no avail. Finally, I interrupt my mum to screech, "Where the Hell is my Vick's?!?" in true temper-tantrum mode (I may have stamped my foot, even). And then, lo and behold, there was my Vick's Vapor Rub in front of me. "Mom! I found it! I just learned a valuable life-lesson!" My mother recognizes the danger is supporting my tone, "what?" she asks warily. "I learned that if you have temper-tantrums you get what you want!"

Sick forever....Unless!

2005-12-20T10:49:00.000-06:00

Dear Santa,

Hi, how are you? I hope all that crap about kids not believing in you isn't getting you down. Also, I bet it sucks how people always make such a big deal about how your name spells 'Satan' if you rearrange the letters. I mean, it's kinda cool, but probably gets old. I can spell my name backwords, or 'nana' but beyond that you've either got 'aann' 'anan' or nnaa' none of which really make sense.

Anyway, in the immortal words of Calvin, enough chit-chat. Let's get down to business. I've been really good this year. How do you determine that, anyway? Because, I mean, the truth is I haven't been good--no one has. It's the basic human condition. We're not good. So do you judge on intent then? I mean, what about the neighbor kid who burned down his parent's house? He obviously wasn't good, is he getting coal? Does blatent stupidity not count? Never mind. I've been really good this year, and I have a really really special request. I would really really like world peace.

Ok, that's not true, I just thought I'd pump up my "intended goodness" so you'll bring me what I really want: A Brand New Immune System! All the cool kids have one.

Love, annA. (see, I wrote it backwords)

I'm sick still...again...forever?

Friday: Now with a hint of food poisoning!

2005-12-16T13:15:00.000-06:00

Holy crap, today is the ultimate definition of long and slow. I wrote boring, but then decided to change it because there was some office drama. My work is like a middle school as far as professionalism and communication. During the 'incident' there were doors slammed, and top-of-lungs yelling happened. I haven't seen anyone for over an hour now...maybe I should make sure everyone is still alive. I still have to be here for another 3.25 hours.

Saints preserve me.

Unless of course I do have food poisoning...again. Do you think unopened mayo can go bad if it's kept in a cupboard that gets warm enough to melt my chocolate covered almonds (dammit)? Last time I felt like this was the first weekend I moved in with my roommate and spent the whole weekend vomiting into my trash can. I may never eat Miracle Whip again. Meh....ack. I WILL NOT throw up.

Wow, this is an amazing situation...can my horror of vomit counterbalance the abject misery that is work today? Would I rather vomit, or stay at work? It's one of those exaggerated phrases people use to express distate or hatred. "Ugh, I'd rather vomit..." Oh the dilemma....Would I rather vomit? This is an existential crises folks.

Wednesdays: Now with a hint of mystery!

2005-12-14T11:40:00.000-06:00

A while ago I received a mysterious text message. This is what it said:

"word from the boy w/a baby...f**k" (mom: remember, people use that word in real life)

First off, I don't know any guys who are having kids, so this is either 1). a joke, or 2). a desperate plea for camaraderie. I saw it was a 608 number, which is LaCrosse
(or Madison if you want to get technical). I only have one male friend from LaCrosse, so I immediately assumed it was from him, and fired off a message back that said, succinctly:

"WHAT?!"

After hearing nothing back for a while (which kills me--you know the phrase curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back? That should be my motto--I need to know!!!), I decided to send another message. That's when I started to realized that there are some peculiarities about this case.
1). It wasn't the cell phone number of the person who I assumed sent it. So that means if it was from him, he used someone else's cell phone--but why would you do that?
2). I don't have any idea who this* is. Could it be a joke from one of the random guys my sister and I befriended at Halloween? (I should tell that story here sometime). Did my sister finally change her number so it's not a Texas area code?

Now my mind is working furiously trying to figure this out. If it wasn't a 608 number, I would be sure it was my dear friend E-train who I hung out with last night and had a conversation about sending hilarious cryptic text messages. *Cue the creepy Twilight Zone music--coincidence? I think not.* This is literally driving me crazy: I'm antsy in my chair, I keep looking at my phone to see if a new message has appeared. It beeps when I get a message, but maybe I, like, yawned or something and created a vacuum in my head so I couldn't hear it.

Wow, this mystery has made approximately 2.5 hours of work time just fly by. That also means I have a lot of work sitting on my desk, and I am clearly not working right now. I should go do that.

*well, I didn't want to spoil the story, but the asterisk in this entry represents the exact moment when I became enlightened. I feel foolish. Imagine with me, if you will, an alternate usage of "word" in the original message, "word from the boy w/a baby...f**k." I assumed it was a greeting as in, "Word to your mother." However, there is a less slangy, more archaic usage which means "news" or "communication," as in, "we received word of your delay." Then it hit me. It's my BFF, Giovanni. She lives in Madison and we don't regularly text each other, so she's not on my list. She is telling me that she heard from her nemesis relationship, which is very bad news, and to which, "WHAT?!" is not an appropriate response. Wow. I rule.

Also, if you are my one male friend in LaCrosse (I believe the last text message I sent you said, "don't call me dude"), just keep telling yourself that I'm the funniest girl you know, and remember that I'm sorry I thought you knocked someone up.

P.S...

2005-12-13T12:53:00.000-06:00

Did I mention that I didn't eat dinner yesterday because I 'accidentally' fell asleep at 6:00 pm? Well, I didn't eat dinner.

By the way, I suppose I should clarify: I didn't accidently fall asleep at 6:00 pm. I intentionally fell asleep then, the accident comes in when I 'accidentally' didn't get back up until thirteen hours later. It was meant to be a quick nap. I had the chance to still call it a little nap three hours later when I woke up for a phone call (why that call woke me I'll never know, I had already slept through four others, and was destined to sleep through one more), but not even talking on the phone after a three hour nap was enough to rouse me from my bed. The girl slept on, and now she's very hungry.

awww man....

2005-12-13T10:40:00.000-06:00

I knew that this morning was too good to be true. I woke up instantly with the first tones of my alarm (this is because I 'accidentally' went to sleep at 6:00 pm and therefore had been sleeping for about 13 hours). Regardless of the reason, it was a great feeling to wake up instantly and feel so refreshed. I made myself a good lunch, washed the dishes, put toast in the toaster for breakfast, and I even made my bed and cleaned up my room! Then it was time to leave for work, so I got in the car and drove to work, feeling on top of the world and already full of accomplishment. As I settled into my morning work routine, turning on lights, printers, etc. I suddenly felt a little growl in my stomach...Yes, you guessed it. I wrote that I "put toast into the toaster" but I never wrote that I ate it. Because I didn't. It's still sitting in the toaster, stone cold right now instead of sitting in my stomach filling me with peanut butter and jelly fullness.

I didn't get to post yesterday because I (eep!) was actually busy working all day. Heh, imagine that. There was some office passive aggression thrown my way by another worker. I'm not going to waste my time writing about it, but let's just say that some people never get out of the 'middle school girl' stage whether female or not. So annoying.

What's in Your Head?

2005-12-09T16:06:00.000-06:00

You know how people get songs stuck in their head? I get words stuck in my head too. For example, the word I have stuck in my head right now is "Kerfuffle" as in, "Someone had replaced all the salt with sugar, which caused a kerfuffle when the meal began." It means chaos or disorder, and I CAN"T GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD.

Why does this happen? Does it happen to other people? I just wake up in the morning, and the first thing that pops into my head is 'kerfuffle,' or whatever other random word it is. When you have a song, sometimes you can get rid of it by humming, or singing, or listening to it. But how do you get rid of a word? I've tried writing it, saying it, crying, and sleeping with the dictionary under my pillow, but nothing helps. Who even knows the word kerfuffle? And here I am, brushing my teeth with 'kerfuffle' bouncing around repeating over and over in my head. Please, I'll take the Macarena, I'll take Alvin and the Chipmunks Christmas, I'll even take The Brady Bunch Theme Song--but can I just have something normal, please?

Work Rules Today

2005-12-08T14:24:00.000-06:00

Oh man, this is the best day of work ever. First the giant Christmas card, and now this:

I just got an order for two custom stamps. The first one is to say "Production Order," Ok, sure, whatever you want. The second one is supposed to say "Snap." Excuse me? Did you just say snap? Oh yeah. I can not possibly think what you would need a stamp that says 'snap' for, unless you imagine some bigwig lawyers sending case documents back and forth before a trial.

"What? He thinks he can get her off with not guilty plea? Ha! Wait 'til he sees these documents proving that his client was in fact at the scene when the crime was committed. Awwwwww SNAP."
*buzzes secretary*
"Robin, stamp these 'snap' and send them back."

Christmas with Claes...

2005-12-08T13:38:00.000-06:00

It's my job to sort the mail at my work. Now that the holidays are fast approaching, we get lots of stuff from other companies we do business with--holiday cards and whatnot. Well today there was a really large envelope, I mean, really really big. As I opened it, I figured it was a free calendar. When I pulled out the contents there was a picture that looked like a calendar, but it seemed too light. Then I realized that it was a GIANT Christmas card! Seriously, it's as tall as the calendar on my wall, just a little wider to give it the same dimensions as a card. It made my day, because there is no discernable reason whatsoever for it to be that big. It was like getting a Christmas card from Claes Oldenburg. How sweet is that, I ask you.

Uh oh...

2005-12-07T03:37:00.000-06:00

The past 45 minutes I've been at work, the power has been out-- it wasn't my fault this time, I swear!

I went on my lunchbreak, since there was nothing else to do. I was hoping to get sent home--no power + no phone calls + no faxes = no work for this chocolate milk girl. Sadly, the power is now back on.

When I wrote the entry about the book Sock, I forgot to tell you the best thing I learned when I read it: FBI is not an acronym. Neither is CIA, PTA or ESL. Those are all initialisms. It's true. Go look up initialism in the dictionary if you don't believe me.

The only time something is an acronym is if the letters spell a new word and are referred to by the new word. So if FBI were an acronym, we would say "FuhBee" or maybe "FuhBye" but not "EffBeeEye." Same thing with PTA: "PuhTaa" or "PuhTay" but never "PeeTeeAay" Personally, I think all those words would be a lot cooler if they were acronyms, but that's just my opinion. When I have kids, I'll go to the PuhTay meetings, and I'll know when to call an acronym an acronym.

Also, I'm sure you knew that laser(Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation) was an acronym, but did you know that radar (Radio Detection and Ranging) is one too? And even more words we use every day, like hello (Human Elocution Lauditorally Locating by Orbit) and tea (Tiny Earth Atoms) might be acronyms too! Just think of all the words that might be more than one word! It's like being a little kid again, and trying to interpret your parents:

"She said no...do you think she meant 'no not now', or 'no never'? Let's ask again."

That's the best thing about books, you learn so much stuff that just expands your world. I'm going to go tell my boss that our company name isn't an acronym...I bet he's dying to know.

Riding Shotgun

2005-12-05T13:48:00.000-06:00

Today I decided to discover why we have the term "shotgun" for the passenger seat of the car. I figured it had something to do with the passenger offering protection to the driver back in the cowboy days. Well, it has it's origins there, as in the 'idea' comes from the stagecoach era, but the term came from Hollywood's interpretation of the Old West. Go figure.

Here's an interesting history , and here's Wikpedia's entry, with some of the more modern connotations

For my sister...

2005-12-05T08:40:00.000-06:00

I stole this from Pandas for you:

Black squirrels may be related to pirahnas

ha.

Librarians fight crime!

I've always wanted to be a superhero.

The break up letter...

2005-12-02T13:58:00.000-06:00

Dear Xanga,
I hate to have to tell you like this, but it's over. I've found a new blog spot. I know I know, I should have told you instead of going behind your back, but I can't change the past. All I have now is regrets. But Blogger and I, we just click, you know? Blogger's teaching me html, and I just feel freer in this relationship. Anyway, call me sometime--maybe we can still be friends?

-Anna

2005-12-02T11:46:00.000-06:00

The Trouble with Thirsty Thursday...

The trouble is that the next day is Friday.

I over slept this morning. I woke up at 7:26, I have to leave my apartment at 7:42. That's 16 minutes for any of you who are wondering. But, amazingly, not only did I get dressed, do my hair, brush teeth etc., make a lunch, grab breakfast, spill and clean up an entire container "crunchy alfalfa sprouts-grown in Wisconsin, naturally!" and remember to bring the game I need for babysitting tonight, but I was early to work!*

My roommate, when she saw me carrying my large bright-pink "Ghost Party" boardgame, inquired if it was my day to bring a boardgame to work. Ha ha. However, when I got to work (still being half asleep) I walked halfway to my desk....carrying my large bright-pink "Ghost Party" boardgame. sweet.

*I intentionally left "put on makeup" off of the list, because due to a great move on my part, I didn't wash my face last night and my makeup still looked great. Voila!
What a great time-saving device. Too bad there's not more things I could do at night to save time in the morning, you know, like sleeping in work clothes. Maybe I'll try that Sunday night to smooth the "Monday morning/going to work sucks" transition.

2005-12-01T11:38:00.000-06:00

Happy Birthday Lilly Michelle!

My favoritest baby in the whole wide world turns one today! I can't believe it. She's soooo cute it hurts. I'm her auntie, and I'll be really really jealous when she gets a real, actually-related-to-her auntie. When she was born, I made her a blankie, and she won't sleep without it. Whenever she sees it, she makes the monkey noise (none of us are really sure why, but the girl likes monkeys, and she likes her blankie...so what more do you need?) So, for her first birthday I'm making her a brand new monkey blankie, with monkey included! It's very cute, and should make it easier for her mom, Michelle, to wash the original monkey blankie once in a while without total chaos ensuing. Her birthday party is on Sunday. I've never gone to a 1-year-old's birthday party before, unless you count my siblings or my own--which I don't. I wonder what I should wear.....

Is it lunchtime yet?

2005-11-30T12:45:00.000-06:00

Sock

I love just browsing for books, and rarely leave the Library without five or more books and a giant grin on my face. I judge books by their cover. Who doesn't? If the words in the title or the cover art interest me, I look at the book. I read the blurb and if I'm still interested, I usually read the first sentence. This is how I choose books.

I see a book called "Sock." It has some slick graphic design on the spine, and a little picture of a sock monkey. I'm sort of fascinated by the sock monkey culture, so I'm interested. I read the blurb on the back cover, and find that it is more or less a 'detective story' (yuck) but is told from the perspective of a sock monkey (hmm...). I notice that it's compared to 'A Confederacy of Dunces' which, I admit I haven't read, but have heard about, and know it's smart fiction. So I open it up. The first sentence is, "Bad monkey wammerjammer." I'm hooked, especially since the second sentence is "Sewn in a crossfire hurricane of needles and pins." Those are good words; the book comes home with me.

I've been reading it. I'll finish it on my lunch break today. It's been a very interesting book, but I don't like it because it exposes my snobbery. You see, about halfway through reading it, I realized that the author, Penn Jillette, is Penn from Penn and Teller. And that makes me embarrassed to say I'm reading it. Never mind that it's a very interesting book--one of the more thought provoking books I've read recently. It's written in a self-aware/stream of consciousness style a la Dave Eggers with a little Chuck Palahniuk thrown into the mix for content (take that into consideration if you want to read it--it's very gritty, in-your-face, disturbing content). I feel like I'm missing my point. Here's the point: Penn Jillette has written a good book. I should go read some reviews of it and see what smarter people think...

2005-11-28T06:15:00.000-06:00

"Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire"

I did not love it. I don't have any real criticisms of it, though. I just felt sort of blah--I think it's just because I don't love the movies. I didn't love the movie because it's not the book. First of all, I love "young adult" fiction. It has a very special place in my heart. I read a lot, and I mean A LOT, but the things I get really excited about are supposedly meant for young people. I think it's a really important medium. I think that it is ridiculous that some people think that the genre is some sort of 'sub-literature.' Anyway, the bottom line is that I think the Harry Potter books are an absolute delight, and have a lot of importance as well. And I just don't think that the movies can ever do the books justice, no matter how well done. I do think it was very well done; as I said, I have no real criticisms of the movie. I don't know, it just was sort of oddly deflating.

2005-11-28T01:28:00.000-06:00

Kids Rule

Overheard at church, a small boy telling a friend about his recent vacation:

"...and then we went to the top of the Vampire State Building."

2005-11-22T13:12:00.000-06:00

While we're on the subject...

Since we're discussing things I really hate, here's one more: #2 pencils. Here's how the evil objects are made.

Anyway, these pencils are the worst. That stupid soft lead--you have to press so hard, and it's impossible to get a nice crisp line. What's the point? And then there's the fact that these are the pencils you MUST use for all standardized testing. Sure, filling in circles, that's fine, because #2 pencils are like writing with a crayon. But writing essays with that thing? I'd rather poke out my eyes. Grrr

2005-11-22T11:58:00.000-06:00

Want to see me have a temper tantrum?

"I have never hated an inanimate object more than I hate this machine [vacuum cleaner]."

That's a quote I read while researching vacuum cleaners. Wow. That one blows me away. I was struck by the truth and raw emotion in that statement--and then I realized I could have written that. It's as though the writer of that review peered into my soul and wrote what he or she saw there. There is nothing--I mean it, nothing--that induces my rage faster than a vacuum cleaner that doesn't work well.

2005-11-21T19:50:00.000-06:00

A Story! A Story!

This is one of many stories about the funniest kid I know. His name is Luke, but I call him Louey. He is eight years old, and is my child alter-ego.

Last year, Lou was in first grade, and learning first grade things like spelling. He had an assignment where someone dictated the nursery rhyme "Jack and Jill" and he had to write what he heard.

My friend Karin was helping him with his homework, so she was the one dictating to him. Lou found this excercise to be pretty annoying, and kept asking Karin to help him. He's got this really serious gruff way of talking, so he sounds older than he is.

"Ah, Karin, could ya help me, please?"

"No Luke, Mrs. Thompson just said to do your best." And he goes on writing. Now the thing is, Lou knows how to write all these words, he's just annoyed. Keep that in mind. So he writes, Jack and Jill went up the hill to... Pause.

"Hey, can ya tell me how do you write 'fetch.' "

"I already told you, I can't help you; you just have to do your best."

Now Lou gets mad. His face clouds up and he says (are you ready for this?),

"Karin, I have never spelled fetch a day in my life, and I'm not starting now!!!"

2005-11-18T18:33:00.000-06:00

I'm so talented

I managed to knock over my water bottle. Knock it off of my desk that is. Off of my desk and onto the power cord; thus plunging half of the office into darkness. Sweet.

The power cord is ruined.

2005-11-18T15:53:00.000-06:00

Classes!

Well, I registered for classes today. I am officially a grad student. (Is that what makes it official? I guess I'm not really sure). I registered for "Introduction to Library and Information Science " and "Organization of Knowledge" and I chose "Reference & Online Services" for my alternate. Whee! I'm going to be a librarian when I grow up. Librarians are cool. They fight against book-banning, and censorship, and they know lots of stuff, like how to win on Jeopardy.

Here's my quick story for the day: About a month ago, I decided I wanted to have bangs in my hair, you know, the long sideswept kind. Instead of making a hair appointment, I decided to do it myself. At 2:00 am. Miraculously, this was not a bad decision, in fact, it was the best.hair.decision.ever.

Then everyone started telling me I look like Lisa Loeb when I wear my glasses + bangs. Ok, whatever. Who even knows what Lisa Loeb looks like? Well, everyone now, because she's doing a reality TV show about dating in NY. Why me?

2005-11-17T11:26:00.000-06:00

Cigarettes = Lip Gloss

I'm addicted to Lip Gloss. It's true. I've been saying that for years, and recently I started saying that lip gloss is my cigarettes. As in, I'm addicted to lip gloss the way most people get addicted to cigarettes. But you know what? That's more true than I realized:

1. People smoke more when they are nervous or upset. I put on way more lip gloss when I'm nervous or upset. If I'm sitting there waiting for an interview or something, I'll "chain-moisturize" which is easier than chain-smoking, because you can do it indoors or anywhere. Most places don't have "No Lip Glossing" signs up.

2. People smoke more when they drink. Yes, I'll have another round--where's my lip gloss? Thank you. Sip. Where's my lip gloss? Talk, sip, where's my lip gloss? Repeat.

3. People get really crabby when they can't smoke. Don't even talk to me if I don't have my lip gloss. I have been late for work because I realized halfway there that I didn't have any lip gloss, so I turned around and went back. It's horrible, horrible I tell you.

4. People are dedicated to one brand of cigarettes. Bonnebell--MartianMallow or, as an ok alternative, MallowBerry. Yes. It's Marshmallow flavored, which sounds gross, but you'd never guess unless I told you. Mmm...it's so good...

5. Smoking can kill you. Oops, well, I guess this is where the analogy breaks down. Never mind.

2005-11-16T07:12:00.000-06:00

Please, not that! I'll do anything!!!

I was just imagining what it would be like to get through a day at work without the Internets. What did people do back in the day before the internets? Seriously...I mean, the art of pretending to work is a subtle art, and the internets are key, because you appear to be working. For example, right now I look as though I am industriously working away--no one knows what I'm typing though. It could be a report or a quote for work. But it's not! It's my little bloggette. I expect those of us who have always had the joys of the computer can't really understand what 'mind-numbing boredom' really is. I just had a brief glimpse through my ever-fertile imagination. It scared the ever living crap out of me.

PS. the office manager is playing solitaire...so there.

2005-11-15T11:26:00.000-06:00

I Think There May be Something Wrong with my Face...

It's the second time in two weeks I've been out with a guy friend at a restaurant/coffee shop, talking about stuff, and they've asked me if I needed to leave because I looked like I was upset. "Um...no....I don't feel upset ...but, ah, thanks though..."

This leads to some sort of mental crises for me, because it keeps happening. I mean, AM I upset about something? Am I suffering horribly subconsciously? I should do something about that, but how? Hey, Mr. subconscious, could you please stop taking over my face and making people worry about me, because it's sort of confusing and embarassing.

Maybe I have a face-controlling parasite. If I do I'll call him penguin.

2005-11-14T15:43:00.000-06:00

Good Morning! May I help you?!

"Customer Service," the phrase alone is enough to strike fear into many a job-hunter's heart. With good reason, especially when combined with the words, "answering phones." These together evoke an image of sitting in a small cubicle, answering phone call after inane phone call, and, horror of horrors, wearing a headset. Just imagine the idea of sitting at a desk all day dealing with the dregs of humanity, the people we think of when we see a bumper sticker that reads, "Hey, YOU, out of the gene pool."

So, I don't really like to tell people that I work in customer service, answering phones, and taking people's orders. But strangely enough, I mostly like it a lot. I think that difference is that I work for a very small company, and that's not my only duty.--I'm not just a drone. They fired the drone-ablitied worker before me on account of her being too drone-like. But oooh, that chocolate milk girl, she went to college and got edumacated! Anyway, it's still really strange being in the customer service world. For example:

This morning I get to work at 8 am, and the phone promptly rings. I answer, using my best "I'm fully awake and alert, I swear!" voice. And I hear a woman's voice say,

"Hi sweetie." Ahh...what the hell? I say to myself, Who has my work number and why doesn't this sound like anyone I know? "I just need to know the price of one of the items I ordered last time."

Oh, I realize that I don't recognize the voice because I don't know this person, and they are calling my work. And before things get too awkward I realize that it's Joanne, from _______, and she feels that she has ordered from me enough times to move us into the 'terms of endearment' stage. I tell her what she needs to know, and she thanks me, again bringing out my special new work nickname. Bye Joanne, and thank you.

2005-11-10T11:10:00.000-06:00

Gong! Gong!

Being a little kid is amazing. When my sister and I were little, we would pretend to be gophers. I don't know if you know this, but in those days, gophers talked by making a noise something like this, "gong." Therefore, gopher conversations when along these lines:

"Gong gong..."
"Gong gong gong, gong."
"GONG! GONG!"

Also, contrary to popular belief, gophers did not live in small tunnels of dirt, but underneath a twin-sized bed on a wood floor. The way they moved was also interesting. Instead of crawling or running, as you would assume a gopher to do, these gophers would slither around on their backs, and pull themselves from one side of their homes to another using the exposed metal of the underside of the boxspring. Thus, the translation of the previous conversation would have went something like this:

"I'm hungry, gopher sister..."
"Well, then slide over to the kitchen and make yourself some food, dummy"
"OH NO! WE'RE GETTING ATTACKED"

This would be accompanyed by a great deal of slithering and gopher screaming, and repeated many, many times. Who knows what exactly was attacking those strange little gophers. I mean, that would be some weird sort of gopher eater. I'd put my money on it being a little brother though. No matter how normal you were as a kid, nothing could strike fear into the heart like a sibling intruder. I mean, even Joseph Campbell has that listed as one of his mythic archetypes*---"The Sibling Intruder"
Honestly, I have a lot of great memories of being a kid, but this is one that my sister and I remember, shake our heads, and say, "Why was that fun?"

But it was, oh, it was.

*This is a lie.

2005-11-09T12:15:00.000-06:00

Just so you know...

Comic Sans is the WORST FONT EVER!!!!! If I were a teacher (which, if god is kind will never happen), I would fail any student who ever dared to turn in a paper or piece of homework--hell, even if I caught them passing a note-- in this damned font.