How, exactly, does one lose a mostly-done pack of birth control pills?
I don't know, but my pack is now gone! Fear not, husband, as well as faithful internet readers. I get three months at a time, so I can just sub one pack for another. But still, how do things just go missing on me?
I think one of the cats might have stolen them. I don't recall putting them away, up in the cabinet above the fridge after I took one on Thursday night. Dumbasses, they can't get pregnant anyway, but I need those, bitches!
I guess I'll find the pack when we move. When I moved from my last house, I found about two packages of hair bands, a gross of pens and bobby pins by the truckload. In odd places, like under the oven, bed and fridge. These things regularly go missing on me.
Do you think they'll be okay to use when I find them? ;)
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Saturday, April 29, 2006
RIDE on the PEACE TRAIN!!
So, Teacher Lady has inspired, INSPIRED me to write a post on the joys of rowhouse living. I lived in a row from the time I was two until just two years ago. And it was an experience.
You have to have consideration for you neighbors in a rowhouse. We couldn't clean, or make any noise at all, really, after 9 pm. That's because of our neighbors to the left. They were no fun at all. This was compounded by the fact that my mom made me be friends with their daughter. She killed me, socially, in grade school.
They were early go-to-bedders. Very early. Like I said, 9 pm. Now, this was not all that hard, but sometimes projects took a lot longer than expected. Quite a few IKEA fiascos ended with a call from the neighbors to be quiet. DUDE. And the worst part was, I knew their son was not sleeping in the bedroom on the other side of my wall. Because every night at about 11:30 I heard him sneeze. THROUGH THE WALL, people.
On the right was a sweet older lady who lived alone. Not too many weird sounds from her side. Unless you count the Lawrence Welk show at a bazillion decibles on Saturdays. And as she got older, you could hear her chairlift go upstairs at about 8pm. She was so cute, but those chairlift bitches were loud back then!!
Then she died. I was sad. It took a year to sell her house, but then finally, VIOLA moved in. Oh. My. God. The stories! Viola is about forty, I'd say. Her boyfriend is my age. Literally. And I have nothing against large age differences, cause age doesn't have a ton to do with who you are. But she was the immature one.
Recycling day was always fun. CASES of coors light and milwaukee's best. Box upon box o'wine. hot! Once I saw old E forties and Lighting forties in the recycling. AND! She'd put out said recycling at 11, after her shift at work was over. It sounded like she threw each bottle into the street from her stoop.
One night, my dad was sick with a horrible cold. She had her boytoy over, and they were rocking out. At 11 at night. TO CAT STEVENS! Like, I knew the voice was familiar. Then we were riding on the peace train. And I was all, huh? Who rocks out to Cat Stevens? Needless to say, my dad had to go over and ask them to turn it down a bit. But seriously, who rocks out to CAT frickin STEVENS??
You have to have consideration for you neighbors in a rowhouse. We couldn't clean, or make any noise at all, really, after 9 pm. That's because of our neighbors to the left. They were no fun at all. This was compounded by the fact that my mom made me be friends with their daughter. She killed me, socially, in grade school.
They were early go-to-bedders. Very early. Like I said, 9 pm. Now, this was not all that hard, but sometimes projects took a lot longer than expected. Quite a few IKEA fiascos ended with a call from the neighbors to be quiet. DUDE. And the worst part was, I knew their son was not sleeping in the bedroom on the other side of my wall. Because every night at about 11:30 I heard him sneeze. THROUGH THE WALL, people.
On the right was a sweet older lady who lived alone. Not too many weird sounds from her side. Unless you count the Lawrence Welk show at a bazillion decibles on Saturdays. And as she got older, you could hear her chairlift go upstairs at about 8pm. She was so cute, but those chairlift bitches were loud back then!!
Then she died. I was sad. It took a year to sell her house, but then finally, VIOLA moved in. Oh. My. God. The stories! Viola is about forty, I'd say. Her boyfriend is my age. Literally. And I have nothing against large age differences, cause age doesn't have a ton to do with who you are. But she was the immature one.
Recycling day was always fun. CASES of coors light and milwaukee's best. Box upon box o'wine. hot! Once I saw old E forties and Lighting forties in the recycling. AND! She'd put out said recycling at 11, after her shift at work was over. It sounded like she threw each bottle into the street from her stoop.
One night, my dad was sick with a horrible cold. She had her boytoy over, and they were rocking out. At 11 at night. TO CAT STEVENS! Like, I knew the voice was familiar. Then we were riding on the peace train. And I was all, huh? Who rocks out to Cat Stevens? Needless to say, my dad had to go over and ask them to turn it down a bit. But seriously, who rocks out to CAT frickin STEVENS??
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
sam in... something
Sammy wanted some face time on my blog too. He's very handsome, if a little overexposed, no?
Monday, April 24, 2006
Done!!
Today was my very last presentation in grad school. Like ever! Wooo ha! It feels good to be finished (I had a Spanish and Latin teacher in high school- she used to scold us "Turkies are done, people are finished."
I think it went well. No one fell asleep, and to my knowledge no one blacked out from sheer bored or overwhelming crappiness. They seemed to like my jokes, too. I try to crack a few jokes in a presentation in my continuing effort to make art history NOT BORING! It's no easy feat, as anyone who's taken AH101 can probably attest. I feel it is my duty, then, to take a presentation on Augustus' house on the Palatine hill and make jokes about MTV cribs and how basketball players have horrible taste in interior decor. When speaking about the paintings on the walls and problems with dating, I must liken the situation to present-day houses still done up in seafoam green and peach, or foil wallpaper with palm trees. And if there are no answers, which, frequently in the Ancient period there aren't, I'm going to throw up my hands and say "the hell?!"
I'm trying to craft my professional persona here, people. I'm the cute one, dammit, adore me!!
I think it went well. No one fell asleep, and to my knowledge no one blacked out from sheer bored or overwhelming crappiness. They seemed to like my jokes, too. I try to crack a few jokes in a presentation in my continuing effort to make art history NOT BORING! It's no easy feat, as anyone who's taken AH101 can probably attest. I feel it is my duty, then, to take a presentation on Augustus' house on the Palatine hill and make jokes about MTV cribs and how basketball players have horrible taste in interior decor. When speaking about the paintings on the walls and problems with dating, I must liken the situation to present-day houses still done up in seafoam green and peach, or foil wallpaper with palm trees. And if there are no answers, which, frequently in the Ancient period there aren't, I'm going to throw up my hands and say "the hell?!"
I'm trying to craft my professional persona here, people. I'm the cute one, dammit, adore me!!
Thursday, April 20, 2006
mem-ries, like the corners of my mind...
Good friend Andrew over at sheepshank wrote another hunger inducing post about food, in which, yay, I get a shout-out. For the record, former bosses, who, incidentally, I doubt know anything about the internet- come on, I never let anyone STEAL from your store! And I certainly never FACILITATED said stealing. Again incidentally, my sister, who is now a loss prevention manager, got fired for stealing, well, actually, hooking people up with free stuff.
Just wanted to note that. It's all a lie. Except it's not. Or is it?
Anyway, yeah, I used to work in a deli. For ten years. Yes, ten years. I did lots of jobs there. I was a hoagie architect, grill bitch (that's really what they called me) a salad girl, and a cashier. I waitressed exactly twice. I was never allowed to touch a slicer though. I also was the fount of useless knowledge and the settler of many a debate. They thought I was smart or something.
I broke my arm there. Twice. I cut myself countless times (and remember, no slicer ever!) The first summer I worked, I passed out three times and threw up once. I don't deal well with being hot, and would often sneak off to the walk-in refrigerator and cool off.
I kind of miss that place. It was nice to have a job that I didn't take home with me. Unless, of course, you count the stench that anyone who's ever worked with food knows all too well. I think it's best described as grease, meat, onions-peppers-pickles, and ASS. It was a job that I wore shittier clothes than I'd ever wear in public to do. I had three pair of shorts, two pair of pants and countless free t-shirts. My favorite one, and one that I wish I hadn't worn it to work so much, had a Dietz and Watson hotdog skiing down a hill. The caption, naturally- hot doggin'!
When I left, they cried (I was busy shitting myself about being a TA- of course not realizing that I'd be the slide-flipper and occasional shouter-of-dates). I talk a lot about it at my new job as a GA, I guess because it's the only other working experience I have. But come on, does anyone have great stories about their office job that involve food-eating dares, or hangman tournaments, or flying pickles? I think not!
Just wanted to note that. It's all a lie. Except it's not. Or is it?
Anyway, yeah, I used to work in a deli. For ten years. Yes, ten years. I did lots of jobs there. I was a hoagie architect, grill bitch (that's really what they called me) a salad girl, and a cashier. I waitressed exactly twice. I was never allowed to touch a slicer though. I also was the fount of useless knowledge and the settler of many a debate. They thought I was smart or something.
I broke my arm there. Twice. I cut myself countless times (and remember, no slicer ever!) The first summer I worked, I passed out three times and threw up once. I don't deal well with being hot, and would often sneak off to the walk-in refrigerator and cool off.
I kind of miss that place. It was nice to have a job that I didn't take home with me. Unless, of course, you count the stench that anyone who's ever worked with food knows all too well. I think it's best described as grease, meat, onions-peppers-pickles, and ASS. It was a job that I wore shittier clothes than I'd ever wear in public to do. I had three pair of shorts, two pair of pants and countless free t-shirts. My favorite one, and one that I wish I hadn't worn it to work so much, had a Dietz and Watson hotdog skiing down a hill. The caption, naturally- hot doggin'!
When I left, they cried (I was busy shitting myself about being a TA- of course not realizing that I'd be the slide-flipper and occasional shouter-of-dates). I talk a lot about it at my new job as a GA, I guess because it's the only other working experience I have. But come on, does anyone have great stories about their office job that involve food-eating dares, or hangman tournaments, or flying pickles? I think not!
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Three weeks left in the semester, you know what this means...
Little updating to be done these next few weeks. I'll check in when I can, you know, when I feel like procrastinating. Like I've been doing all. fucking. semester. Can you get senioritis in grad school? Cause I think I have it. Oh, and a brain tumor. Cause the migraines, they are a crushing my skull at this point.
Tis crunch time, baby, and I am operating on little sleep anymore. Tomorrow I will hand in my crappy paper on Kara Walker. Monday I have to do a presentation on the house of Augustus on the Palatine hill (anyone who knows anything about this, lemme know, kay?). Then later in the week I will hand in that paper from last semester (which still. haven't written more than 2 pages). Then a take home final (yayayay!!) and write up my other (boring) paper on the city of Augusta Emerita- home of thousands of Augustus' retired soldiers, isn't that FASCINATING in temrs of the implications for propaganda? no I don't think so either.
Then! I am done with classes. FOREVER! Well,not teaching them, that'll only begin this fall (God willing!). But for my life as a student. yesss. Until I'm 50, and go back for my MFA. Which'll be free, hopefully, since I'll have a wonderful tenured position by then. And I'll be so so happy and won't procrastinate and will be stress free at this point in the semester.
someday. only 23 years to go!
Tis crunch time, baby, and I am operating on little sleep anymore. Tomorrow I will hand in my crappy paper on Kara Walker. Monday I have to do a presentation on the house of Augustus on the Palatine hill (anyone who knows anything about this, lemme know, kay?). Then later in the week I will hand in that paper from last semester (which still. haven't written more than 2 pages). Then a take home final (yayayay!!) and write up my other (boring) paper on the city of Augusta Emerita- home of thousands of Augustus' retired soldiers, isn't that FASCINATING in temrs of the implications for propaganda? no I don't think so either.
Then! I am done with classes. FOREVER! Well,not teaching them, that'll only begin this fall (God willing!). But for my life as a student. yesss. Until I'm 50, and go back for my MFA. Which'll be free, hopefully, since I'll have a wonderful tenured position by then. And I'll be so so happy and won't procrastinate and will be stress free at this point in the semester.
someday. only 23 years to go!
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Acne 'Splosion!!
My face has blown the fuck up, people. I understand it's part of the healing process. I probably should have realized that this would happen. My skin is purging impurities and other grossness. Yeah, makes sense.
I should have thought of this before I started all my rituals. You know, maybe waited until my conference pres was over?!
I am not that bright, everyone.
But I think it went well. It was a very small audience, but hell, I don't care. There were maybe 10 people. And my 2 friends who came already knew what I was speaking about, so I didn't get to shock them. Ah well. Good feedback, and some good suggestions from the audience on ways to fill out my paper. I really think that I can do this for my dissertation. YAY PORN!!
Now that "Conferences, Symposia and Exhibitions" spot in my CV isn't blank, so yay. And there's no place to put attendance numbers on your CV. Oh hell yes. Now I just need a publication, and I'm good.
And my face to stop blowing the fuck up!
I should have thought of this before I started all my rituals. You know, maybe waited until my conference pres was over?!
I am not that bright, everyone.
But I think it went well. It was a very small audience, but hell, I don't care. There were maybe 10 people. And my 2 friends who came already knew what I was speaking about, so I didn't get to shock them. Ah well. Good feedback, and some good suggestions from the audience on ways to fill out my paper. I really think that I can do this for my dissertation. YAY PORN!!
Now that "Conferences, Symposia and Exhibitions" spot in my CV isn't blank, so yay. And there's no place to put attendance numbers on your CV. Oh hell yes. Now I just need a publication, and I'm good.
And my face to stop blowing the fuck up!
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Feeling putzy
In order to further my procrastination, I have added some links over there --->
Some more blogs I dig, yay! Read them, it's fun, swear.
Hey, wanna see a flyer on which my name is featured??
edited to add...
The best part of my first ever conference program? That they spelled my new, common, EASY TO SPELL last name wrong. Honestly!!
Some more blogs I dig, yay! Read them, it's fun, swear.
Hey, wanna see a flyer on which my name is featured??
edited to add...
The best part of my first ever conference program? That they spelled my new, common, EASY TO SPELL last name wrong. Honestly!!
Thursday, April 06, 2006
okay so now I blog at work...
And it's all to express my distaste for a word.
Smoothie. It makes me gag just a little. I know that they may taste good, and are reasonably healthy if made with good ingredients.
The word, though, it's just gross. Smoooooooothie. Ew! It makes your mouth do ugly things. And it's vaguely sexual, which doesn't mix with food that well, for me. Think moist, yech! Or succulent, that's another one. Slice bugs me, too, but I don't know why.
This is definitely falling under the ramblings aspect of this site, no?
Smoothie. It makes me gag just a little. I know that they may taste good, and are reasonably healthy if made with good ingredients.
The word, though, it's just gross. Smoooooooothie. Ew! It makes your mouth do ugly things. And it's vaguely sexual, which doesn't mix with food that well, for me. Think moist, yech! Or succulent, that's another one. Slice bugs me, too, but I don't know why.
This is definitely falling under the ramblings aspect of this site, no?
Monday, April 03, 2006
What-ne?
Aren't I a little old to have acne? I didn't have it badly in highschool, god!!
I went to the dermatologist today, and she diagnosed me with moderate but icky acne. boo!! I mean, I'm twenty seven, and not pregnant, why does my face hate me now? Along with all the other ailments I have going on with me!
The things grad school has done to me! When I started, the only medication I took was the Pill. Now, I take all this, for these reasons:
Zyrtec, for seasonal allergies. yeah, seasonal as in, ALL SEASONS! Indoor, outdoor, I'm allergic to my jerk-off cats, and dust. I am not a good housekeeper, people. So I'm allergic to my home. Nice
A beta-blocker- for prevention of migraines. Fat lot of good it does, too. I eat
Imitrex- for the relief of migraines in progress. like it's candy!
And still the pill, of course
And now, an antibiotic for my face, plus Differin and a funky face wash.
I am a walking pharmacy, people. I think they're getting suspicious of me at CVS. Seriously, if any of these drugs was in any way fun, I'd be in trouble, I think.
I know this entry is long and a bit incoherent. But I popped an antibiotic before realizing that I have to sit up for a half hour before going to bed, because this stuff that supposedly will clear up my skin? It will also burn holes in my esophagus.
I should just wear a Darth Vader helmet instead. That'd be much easier than this shit!!
I went to the dermatologist today, and she diagnosed me with moderate but icky acne. boo!! I mean, I'm twenty seven, and not pregnant, why does my face hate me now? Along with all the other ailments I have going on with me!
The things grad school has done to me! When I started, the only medication I took was the Pill. Now, I take all this, for these reasons:
Zyrtec, for seasonal allergies. yeah, seasonal as in, ALL SEASONS! Indoor, outdoor, I'm allergic to my jerk-off cats, and dust. I am not a good housekeeper, people. So I'm allergic to my home. Nice
A beta-blocker- for prevention of migraines. Fat lot of good it does, too. I eat
Imitrex- for the relief of migraines in progress. like it's candy!
And still the pill, of course
And now, an antibiotic for my face, plus Differin and a funky face wash.
I am a walking pharmacy, people. I think they're getting suspicious of me at CVS. Seriously, if any of these drugs was in any way fun, I'd be in trouble, I think.
I know this entry is long and a bit incoherent. But I popped an antibiotic before realizing that I have to sit up for a half hour before going to bed, because this stuff that supposedly will clear up my skin? It will also burn holes in my esophagus.
I should just wear a Darth Vader helmet instead. That'd be much easier than this shit!!
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