To Know Me All Wrong

Office hour. Friday. Friday afternoon. No chance anyone is coming to pick my brain about resirch, syince, or life more broadly. Hence, blogging. Plus we just had a lively diskussion sekshun in which I allowed them to pretend to be working on a class project so they are thoroughly tired of me today.

My officemate noticed my Incredible Grey Hair today. "Wow," she said, chewing thoughtfully on some trail mix. "You've got grey hair!"

"Yah," I replied wittily, "I have since I was in high school. But usually I color it. But then my sister was all on my case to leave it alone. Also now I'm broke. Oh and I'm hoping it looks cool eventually."

"I never noticed that!"

"Yarrp."

Oh hey that reminds me. Go see Hot Fuzz the movie if it's playing near you and/or you like comedy. Heeee-larious. I haven't even seen Shaun of the Dead but it is the same people and it's pretty awesome. Almost Super-Troopers awesome. It's an action movie homage/parody but it's funny and loving. According to the reviews I read about it, it's very deferential to the genre as opposed to... oh, just, here.

Life is so fantastic and also busy. My social life has been off the chain lately, which is great, but I am not so excellent at balancing responsibility and fun. So usually I'm like, "ahh, fun. yes, I could use some fun" and then nothing gets done. I am trying for the billionth time in the last few years to remedy that. My newest technique has involved emailing people to schedule meetings well in advance of actually completing the work for the meeting, leaving me panicked and rushed for time, pulling all-nighters and freaking out. But getting shit done, you guys.

My husbie has started mispronouncing words to irritate me and then repeating them ad nauseum, laughing until he is literally crying. It must be such a fun life to have a wee little pea brain that takes delight in conversations like the following:

Me: Gawd I want some chocolate!
Him: Do you want some wewwie wewwie good chocolate?
Me: Uggh don't use that baby voice. Do we have any chocolate?
Him: Hmmm. I don't know but I want some chok-lit too. I wish we had chok-it chip cookies.
Me: ARRGE! shut up with that voice
Him: Chok-it chip! I want chok-it chip cookies. Chok-it CHIP!!
Me: --
Him: CHOK IT CHIPS!! CHOK IT!!! HAHAHAHAHA CHOK IT!!

So for the last week whenever he wants me to punch my fist through the wall he gets in my face and starts going, "mmm chok-it chip cookies!" and then dissolving into giggle hysterics. He is SUCH a little girl. But I have to admit it's fucking funny to watch him autistiklly mispronounce "chocolate" so many times that tears stream from his eyes and he's hyperventilating.

Have you seen those weird "yoga" classes where the point is to force yourself to laugh for an hour? Supposedly it becomes contagious and real as you do it. I tried this the other day, forcing myself to laugh at nothing, and it was highly amusing. The cats, my only witnesses, did not find it amusing. They assumed I had lost my damn mind and hid under the bed while I almost choked to death on my own spit.

I spent some time this morning finding a suitable photograph of Lavril VaVigne (figure it out, lazy) for my advicer to use in a talk next week at a major international conferense. The world is ending.

I was having some mood problems earlier this month, not menstrual in nature, but more of a global feeling of smothering dread that was suspiciously feeling like it might be clinically meaningful. I feel better now (I feel pretty awesome now, actually), but for awhile I could literally not concentrate on anything and was sleeping a lot and hating my work. Then I voiced these concerns to my advicer and she translated them into words I could make sense of. "Oh," she said, lightbulb popping into existence above her head as I lamented my own Extreme Laziness, "you're scared shitless. That's normal."

Ahhh, I love having an advicer who curses at me and also one who Does Not Pull Punches, especially when a curse word is the most exact/precise/appropriately narrow word for the anomaly. I about cried in her office I was so relieved to hear that I am behaving in a normal manner, as normal as dysfunction is for grad skool participants in general, and since then I have been able to think and focus and shit and I am much better, thanks.

What else? Oh jeeze you guys I am not that interesting. I went shopping a few weeks ago against my better fiscal judgment and that also cheered me out of my pseudo depression funk. I got some shoes and a really prosh dress.

How about that earth-like planet, huh?

It Cares Not For Your Pyramid Schemes

Yo.

I got this wild hair up my ass to organize my entire hard drive the other day. Great, right? Except I think I deleted my iPhoto library. Yeah, last time I did this spring-cleaning-of-my-computer thing I deleted my whole iTunes library accidentally. I am freaking awesome.

My friend B wanted to go to a poetry reading tonight. Can you picture me at a poetry reading? Neither can I. I couldn't keep a straight face for more than three seconds. I'm, like, not nearly mature enough for Arts Appreciation these days. Unless by Arts Appreciation you mean artfully dodging all of my responsibilities. Or drinking margaritas. If that's what you mean, I guess then I am actually really good at it. But probably you mean something different. Better stick to the baser arts with this one.

So, so. Comme ci comme ca. School is hard as usual. JD started his class last night and I made him wear a little beanie with a propeller and take a shiny apple for the teacher. Ok, that's not true. I made him scrub his sweet round face until it shone with the light of a thousand suns though. All the better to convey unwavering interest in the subject matter of a class, in my opinion. I, on the other hand, am trying so hard to just Sack Up and Do It, but today I have to teach commas to a bunch of graduating seniors and I would rather visit the gynechiatrist.

Aside from school, I have been cramming my social calendar to the brim with fun, so that's been great. Totally having lots of fun. Ahhh. It makes me miss you guys a lot too, but what can I do. I can throw myself into my work, that's what I can do.

OH BOOOOOOY ARE WE ENTHUSIASTIC!!!!

Your Frame Went Limp In My Arms

I love my husband. He always cooks, which is great but when I try to help he usually gets all shitty and orders me out of the kitchen and out of his way. I realize that cooking is like a nice decompression thing for him, but it's not fair that I can't help! I'm not so totally inept; I've fed myself before. However, lately my whining has worn him down (or he just super-missed me while I was in Boston) and he has been assigning me benign little kitchen jobs while he's cooking, to be kind. The first day I was tasked with washing the potatos. I did this masterfully. What I really wanted, of course, was to cut them too, because to me that's the only fun part of cooking. But he had been snatching each clean potato up as I set it by the sink and had them all cut up by the time I turned around to demand that I now be allowed to cut them. Damn.

So the next day he let me cut up an onion, which he thought was hilarious because I immediately started crying and shrieking and waving the giant knife around in despair. Oh and a tomato. But the tomato came with special instructions and he had to sharpen the knife right before I could cut it. Then last night he actually let me stir ingredients in a hot pan. Oh yesssss.

Also, I love it when my husband laughs until he cries like a little girl. Last night I achieved this by telling him about my sister's particular aversion to having the word "mew" said in this very anoying voice that I have perfected (so has Mike), and her other particular aversion to being called "jennay" like in forest gump. So my impressions of both these things are excellent, and I did one and then the other until he was inexplicably sobbing and gasping for air. Hahahah. Then he told me he hasn't ever seen forest gump.

Oh and he blockbustered (not the same ring as "netflixed") that awful movie the holiday for me to watch without my asking. then he sat through it last night. And he's taking classes and he's so excited and I'm so proud of him. Also if I can't find a damned job after this I think he will be successful enough that it doesn't really matter. Thank fuck. I'm so fucking glad he's a grown up and has a career and likes it and does everything right all the time. Ok that last thing isn't totally true but close enough. Wow, I'm really getting soft in my old age.

Oh and I had my first sekshun meeting yesterday and it went really well. I may have griped about how I didn't want to do this tee ay class? well now I think I may end up enjoying it a lot despite myself. excellent.

Ok now I really have to quit stalling and mooning about over my husbie and crank out some really excellent writing.

CIAO BITCHES

Louder, Louder, And We'll Run For Our Lives


Jenny cartwheels a mean drunk cartwheel.








We fight a mean drunk fight.







We laugh a mean drunk joke. Drunk joke, haaaa. I think we were laughing about how much like a dandyfop pirate Keith looks.







Baaahstin gloams a mean twilight. I shouted, "Hey lookit! Boaters!" at the people in the boat before touristically snapping a billion photos of them without consent. I am going to sell this picture postcard to the City of Baaahstin and make a nice tidy profit.







Jenny and Keith scowl a mean cold evening constitutional scowl.







Baaahstin coaxes a mean sunset for the only night I had my camera on me.







Keith cartwheels a mean into-the-camera drunk cartwheel.







Liz cartwheels a mean drunk cartwheel whilst in stits (anyone else watch australia's next top model? they call stilettos stits)

I hiked my dumb ass all the way to the housing office today to pay rent before I noticed the check had fallen out of my back pocket somewhere along the way. I frantically retraced my steps all the way home. Ran into a jolly fat maintenance man who informed me that he had found it and turned it in to my apt office. Was grateful then irate once Jolly Fat Fat informed me that he had watched it fall out of my pocket as I walked past him the first time, but "couldn't" get my attention because I had my iPod headphones on. Wtf, Jolly Fat Fat. Couldn't Jolly Two Step or Jolly Hippety Hop or Jolly Jog Your Ass a couple steps to catch me? Wow, thanks a jolly fat lot.

I have two iPods. One is for the gym only, it is pink and old-fashioned and has the crappy non-color screen. The other is my nice, fancy pants one that I use all the rest of the time. Today my pink gym iPod gave me a Sad Mac face and died! That was traumatic, but since I won't take the nice one to the gym it leaves me no choice but to run out and get myself a twee kicky shuffle so I can go to the gym tonight.

I am telling you all this because I know from the pile of steaming shit I'm reading for The Big D, as I will now be addressing it, that writing to get things out is good, but writing them with the intent of expressing your emotions is way better, and associated with all kinds of great health/mental outcomes. I encourage all of you to start Getting It Out more. That's what the Remorseless Blog II: The Secret Of The Ooze (hahahahahaha) is for, after all. I can't overemphasize the utility of dealing with things in this particular way. Or just squelch it, whatev. teeheeeeee xoxoxoxo

What Divine Intelligence

Back from Boston. Whew, that was a bunch of fun all crammed into not that much time. I drank more than the entire rest of my adult life combined, but it was totally fun.
See? I look like a retarded muppet when I'm drinking. I also have photos of each of us doing drunk cartwheels on a random street near jenny's house as we stumbled home from bar #576.


ahahaha. it was totally fun except sometimes i was cold. The show was rad, Jenny is rad, Keith is rad. Raedy is rad. I miss everyone already and that's not rad.

Anyway, I'm back. thought I would feel like typing more but I'm bored. Later.