The most wonderful time of the year...

...has come and gone and all that's left are a bunch of toys that defy organization and a big ass can of Lysol. The tree came down as soon as I was able to stand upright after the holiday; Santa left us a big ol' stomach virus in our stockings this year and in addition to zapping my holiday appetite (Wha?! For realz, that happened, folks.) it also zapped my holiday spirit. I couldn't get that thing down fast enough. Brodie was kind enough to help - on Christmas night I hear he finally attempted scaling the tree. I have no proof of this event; Nick and Zach were sleeping on the sofa, I was curled up in the fetal position on the bathroom floor after heaving my guts and then some and Brodie was left to his own maniacal devices with the tree. Nick said he woke up to find it sort of leaning on the sofa with our monkey of a son covered in glitter and candy canes on the floor. I would have liked to have had photographic evidence of this but alas, there is none.

Bummer, dude.

Our holidays (pre-stomach virus) were great - food, family, gifts and fun. I love that time of year and usually I'm the one wanting to keep the decorations and the spirit going into early summer. But not this time. The tree was looking sad and taking up space in the living room. Valuable space we need for toys. I am seriously going to have to find some sort of toy organization system. Because the giant bucket things we have going at present are just not cutting it. Suggestions? Anyone? Anyone?

Bueller?

It's New Year's Eve Eve. Yesterday was Nick's birthday, he's officially entered his mid- to upper-20s - he's 26. He likes to tell me (almost daily) that he'll never be as old as I am. But at least for the next few months I don't feel like quite the cradle robber; our age gap is just four years instead of five.

I'm working on my New Year's resolutions. Last year I tried to set resolutions for everyone else to avoid disappointment in myself when they fell to the wayside by the beginning of February. That just resulted in a lot of arguing and yelling and disappointment in others so I'm back to the old standby.

Post to come later. (Hopefully before spring.)

things that scare the janel, vol. 1

(alternative title: peekaroo! i'm bustin' out of you!)

you know how i feel about snuggies. and now they've come out with this - the peekaroo. while i've not seen this in real life i can safely tell you, with no doubt in my mind, that i never want to see this in real life. this is some scary shit, my friends.

however, if you find that life will not be complete until you have one of these in your possession, click here.

o.m.g.

and now you know the rest of the story...

i had the most amazing experience with my son this morning. we were playing together, as much as you can play with your child when he's in utero. he would kick and i would cover that spot on my belly and he would kick me again. this went on for about 15 minutes - kicking and covering and kicking and poking - it was incredible. it dawned on me that this isn't just a baby, this is a person. this is a person with his own little personality, likes and dislikes, he'll have his own agenda and his own goals. and to think about that is just awesome and terrifying all at once, especially when you consider his parents...

i couldn't sleep last night. i wasn't upset about anything, i just couldn't breathe and as such i couldn't sleep. when i'm sick i get all dramatic and melancholy, i act like my father. lucky for everyone i know there was no one here to witness this except for the dog and he's not really the most sympathetic creature i've ever encountered. but not sleeping provided for plenty of time for watching mindless television (infomercials and the weather channel) and reading idiotic books.

i assume you've heard about the snuggie, the blanket with sleeves? a friend of mine likened this to wearing your robe backwards which is pretty much the truth. i don't have enough fingers to count how many times i've seen this commercial in the last 72 hours but every time i see it, i have the same thought: the heaven's gate cult absolutely chartered the popularity of the snuggie and none of those poor bastards are around to reap the benefits. do you remember the heaven's gate cult? they wore red robes (snuggies! i swear they were snuggies!) and nike tennis shoes and they committed a mass suicide that aligned with the reappearance of the hale-bopp comet. (sad, just sad.) but if those people had had the foresight to market their fashions instead of downing vodka shots laced with phenobarbital they could have been the latest and greatest hollywood religion. move over kabbalah, move over scientology - tom cruise and his l. ron hubbard loving ass could have been on oprah singing the praises of marshall applewhite and the comfort of the snuggie!

but alas, that was not in the cards, which is odd for a group of people claiming to be so instrinsically in tune with the universe. (hmm...) and that is why i'll just wear my bathrobe backwards instead of buying a snuggie, even though if i call in the next 20 minutes i could get two (!) for the price of one. but it doesn't stop me from admiring the package at walgreen's while i'm in the "as seen on tv" aisle; i'd look pretty good in that shade of red.

moving on...

i'm boycotting the use of my dishwasher. because it's just me here now and i don't eat nearly as much when i'm alone (as opposed to being all relationship-ed up) i've resolved to handwash all my dishes to see if it makes much of a difference on my electric and water bill. oh, the things i do for fun when i'm bored. but of all the chores i have to do as an adult, dishes is far from the worst. my least favorite chore of all time is dusting. i will vacuum until the cows come home, i'll do laundry until i can't see, but i hate dusting. because no matter when i do it, it's the wrong time. if you dust after you vacuum then you're just wiping crap on the floor. and if you dust before you vacuum you'll just blow more dirt around with the vacuum and then everything looks like you need to dust again. so i just don't do it. it looks like the color is way off on my tv but it's really just a nice thick layer of dust and i'm okay with that.

did you hear about paul harvey? that made me sad, i loved paul harvey. even though towards the end he was looking less human and more like a wax museum version of himself, he was still fun to listen to. my grandma used to listen to him on the radio every day - i can remember being eight years old, in the blow up pool in her backyard, kitchen window open so she could keep an ear and an eye on me and hearing the noon news with paul harvey come drifting through on good ol' KMGO. that was one of the best summers of my life - i spent like six weeks at my grandma's house that summer, going to work, going to lunch, eating grilled cheese, shopping and just hanging out. she was a lot of fun. i miss her. i miss her a lot.

i'm going to my mom's today, i think we're going to look for a tv since hers is on its way out. i'm looking forward to getting out of the house and getting some sunshine, even if it is 10 below outside.

it's a holiday classic!

merry christmas from superjanel, the bee, baby wal-mart and millions of special bk lounge employees worldwide.

your metaphor is digging into my cankles

have you seen that commercial? that old lady cracks me up. i don't really care about the wireless printer so much (as i sit here with a 35-foot ethernet cable draped across the entertainment center and the doggie kennels and the floor, up to the sofa where i blog) but the old lady in the commercial is hil-freakin-arious, folks.

it's some funny stuff.

my hands smelled like hot dogs all day and i couldn't figure out why. it was a long-ass day today at work; time couldn't go fast enough for me. i can tell you it wasn't much of a day for working - i finished two crossword puzzles and three sudokus while harassing the non-bill-paying bastards that are my customers.

"hi, is mrs. fill-in-the-blank there? hi, this is superjanel from giant conglomerate bank and i'm calling in regards to your -- hey, i think 28-down is "THE UN!" which, if you were completing the ny times crossword today, 28-down really was "the UN" - the clue being a n.y. country club.

tricky, tricky.

so since i've been home i've been watching the weather channel and all the coverage that tropical storm gustav brings with it. i made tuna casserole for dinner and ate broccoli and cauliflower and drank about a pitcher and a half of ice tea, i'm so very thirsty today. i cleaned house, did laundry, walked the pooties until they were tired (which is a long freaking haul, my friends) - it's been a productive evening. and that's how exciting my life has been today - how about yours?

i'm working my way towards a loooong weekend and generally i look forward to not working but the bee and i have turned a relaxing camping trip into a giant freaking circus production, much like we do with just about anything. first off, you have to realize that i haven't been camping in about 16 years. that's not a joke. the last time i went camping was with my entire family, before my parents split up and life got weird, each of us kids got to pick out our own cans of shasta soda (which was available in about 73 different flavors) and i wasn't afraid of large bodies of water or the shit that swims/floats/rots in it.

i can't say that those are my favorite memories - i was a snotty, bratty, shithead of a kid and i thought i was too good for all that jazz - but at least i can look back at them now and laugh.

ha.

so anyway. we're planning a camping trip. it started out as me and the bee and the puddies. then it was me and the bee and the puddies and his sister on saturday night. then it was me and the bee and the puddies and his sister and my brothers and my brother's girlfriend. now add about (what seems like) 12 belligerent alcoholic 23-year-old jack off guys - friends of the bee. to me, this sounds like a recipe for getting kicked out of a campground and/or arrested. to him, it's a raging good time and what camping is all about.

um, i think i'd rather get kicked out of an applebee's and call it good. let's take the tent back and just go eat dinner.

but it's not to be. instead i'll spend my holiday surrounded by assholes (i'm surrounded by assholes!) and eating hot dogs and sweating. a lot. (i didn't mean you, steph. you're not an asshole.)

good times.

oh well. at least i'll have the puddies.

i rented movies last night and haven't watched a one of them. i usually love scary/freaky/gory movies (what can i say, they've grown on me) and so i rented a couple weirdo looking ones. but i have to say, when i'm home alone, those things are far less funny and far more frightening. now obviously, i'm 28 and i'm old enough to know there's not a monster under my bed. BUT... as previously mentioned, i'm going camping this weekend and who's to say there's not crazy perverted psychopaths in the woods with machetes and axes, waiting to cut off my arms and legs and leave me flopping and squirting blood in the woods in the middle of the night? i mean, i'll be the chubby girl there - they always get clobbered first in the movies.

diet pills, stat! and some good running shoes, i won't be one of those biz-natches that's running around in the great outdoors in 8-inch hooker heels.

(ain't that a pretty picture?)

and why am i all alone, you may be asking? (and if you're not, too bad.) the bee is back on the road in waterloo - doing manly jobs and getting dirty and working long hours. when jobs like this come about i'm glad he doesn't have time to come home. he gets tired and whiny and jackassy and it's probably a good thing that there's 130 miles in between us - there's only room for one tired, whiny and jackassy baby in the house and i (as the elder and the girl) take priority.

neener, neener, neener...

i'm putting the puddies in their houses and going to bed. i'm pooped. peas out.

productivity is for pussies.

i have to admit, i nearly skipped work today. it's a stupid day to work anyway - a five hour shift starting at 5pm - wtf? and it would have been just as easy to call in - a fake cough here, a little sniffle there generally does the trick. or my personal favorite, the mysterious, "i can't come in" and then hang up. then i have more time to come up with something important/weird/life altering to excuse my absence.

can you tell i've done this a lot in the past? i am the queen of missing work. not that great a title, i realize, but we all have to be good at something, right? i just happen to be good at doing nothing, during which i come up more excuses to keep me idle, so really while i'm doing "nothing" i'm really doing "something" even though it's not particularly productive.

did you get that?

so anyway. i'm at work. i'm actually working - no, for real. they (they being "the man" that looks over my shoulder at my place of work) can't complain that i have not been completing my job duties. because i am rocking this joint this evening. i just happen to be rocking this joint while also doing things that don't really pertain to work: texting, blogging, playing games online. it's a rough life i lead...

boo-yah.

i have noticed a trend, and this makes me laugh. when i come to work crabby - i'm better at my job. i'm more argumentative and more likely to harass people into giving me money. which sort of makes sense but then when i leave here, after being crabby all day and crabbing and arguing with customers - then i go home and be crabby too. and *that* sort of defeats the purpose of the whole work as therapy theory.

whatever.

so my new phone is wonderful. i adore it. the battery doesn't last very long but i can deal. the really great thing is the texting: based on the words that i put in - my phone tries to complete my thoughts and my sentences. like, my phone guessed the word "retarded," which was awesome. but then when i put in "we shouldn't ..." it suggested "drink" when i really was thinking "argue." does my phone think i have a drinking problem? i've never lost it in platteville, dropped it in a toilet or subject it to any of the abuse that i've made other phones suffer on my nights out. this phone is a big whiny sucky baby.

wahh, wahh, wahh...

ugh. i have to pee. i never have to pee as much as i do when i'm at work. only at work do i have to pee every thirty minutes. everywhere else i can hold it like a camel. for real. and at work, i'm really weird about this - but i can't use the first two stalls. i think i watched a 60 minutes or something when i was like 7 years old that said that the first two stalls are the germiest everywhere you go. so i use the third stall. every time. or i don't go.

which is funny, because i'm sure everyone that watched that also avoids the first and second stall and so now we're all using the first stall and now it's the germiest and grimiest of the bunch. but whatever. i chalk it up to my ocd. and that makes me feel better.

i'm going to go pee now.

pee's out.

corey feldman, pootie beds and missing punctuation, oh my.

i've mentioned before that we're big blockbuster users. all hail the blue and gold logo that causes us to open our wallets and our homes to so many awful, horrible films. conservatively, i'd guess that i enjoy about 3.7256 movies we rent out of every 10.

why so few, you ask? because i'm only half of the movie-renting-population in this apartment and the other 50 percent of the population has terrible taste in movies. (and television and food and lots of things, but for right now, we're only talking about movies.) movies like b-grade slasher films and self-produced bounty hunter films.

my horizons have certainly been expanded, but not in any way that i'd want to discuss in front of people.

would you like an example? right now - literally - right now, we're watching "the lost boys: the tribe". it's the anxiously-awaited sequel (that was sarcasm) to the 1987 vampire classic (that was not sarcasm, i love that movie) "the lost boys". the only common denominator between the two (beyond the setting, the cinematography, the theme song, blah, blah, blah) is corey feldman.

now i don't know how much tv you watch, i watch more than the recommended daily allowance, but corey feldman can be found on the internet (or encyclopedia britannica if you're old school, and i'm down with that) under all. washed. up. i've watched bits and pieces of that show on a&e "the two coreys" and i've seen firsthand, from my sofa, that dude is at the end of his career.

official janel rating: three thumbs way down. way, way down. like, down, on the floor, down. (btw, the janel does *not* have three thumbs, she's borrowing the thumb of the bee, sitting next to her because this movie is that bad. for real.)

moving on.

so last week i went to lunch with my dad. not that exciting, we talked about same ol' boring stuff: his farm, the barn, the weather, his knack for spending money he doesn't have (I TOLD YOU PEOPLE IT WAS GENETIC!). and then we went to costco. where, in his constant attempts to purchase forgiveness for not being around for the majority of my teenage years, he bought me a giant bed for the pooties.

no, really, giant. big mc large HUGE. it's like 36 inches by 42 inches or something like that. i'd get you the exact measurements but the pooties ate the tag. and that right there is the point of this blurb. it's a nice, comfy, well-upholstered rectangle of a doggie bed and the only thing they're interested in doing is eating the "do not remove" tag and the zippers.

they won't lay on it, they'll only lay beside it. especially kingsley, because the first time that he did stand on it, buddha decided he wanted to move the bed from one end of the living room to the other and kingsley got a nice ride. (funny to watch, not so funny for the pootie, i'm sure.)

good times. it's just that much more crap on the floor that i get to clean up every day.

woot.

and finally: missing punctuation. you may or may not know what that means, and if you don't, well, you should try harder to keep up. no new developments - nothing. nada. zip. zilch. zero. and it's not like i could have missed it - or misplaced it. i have the kind of punctuation that you know when you're having it. and i haven't had it. i'm frustrated. and i can't get into the doctor for a few more days.

ugh.

stupid back-to-schoolers having all their stupid back-to-school physicals. don't they know they're dicking up my schedule?

there are things i need to KNOW, man. your vaccinations can wait.

and on that note, i'm going to go watch stupid movie number two, "the bank job." however, this movie employs the talent of one jason statham, who i will never tire of listening to or watching.

*sigh*

peas out, ninjas.

for the record...

that last post had nothing to do with underpants.

GO ME.

just another day on the cubicle farm

the word of the day is androgyny. the reason the word of the day is androgyny is because i work in a place where all the boys look like girls and all the girls look like boys. so when i walk into the (women's) restroom at giant conglomeration bank and it appears that i'm surrounded by men, i get a little freaked out. today, in fact, i was so freaked out that i walked back outside the bathroom to read the sign and make sure the stick figure outside the door was actually wearing a dress. (she was.)

don't believe me? here are some examples of some androgynous employees at giant conglomeration bank...

breasts be damned, this is flaming homo of a man. survey says: not to be found in the women's restroom, no matter how much he wants to be.

facial hair and all, this chick sits just a few rows over from me on the cubicle farm. survey says: no double takes, no shaving jokes in the bathroom if i want to avoid a harassment lawsuit.

for real, this chick has asked me about six times if i have a lighter, fully knowing *I DON'T SMOKE.* survey says: use the other bathroom when she's out and about to avoid being propositioned.

this dude is always running late and always dressing better than just about everyone in the building. survey says: stick figure on his bathroom door is NOT wearing a dress.

this one may actually be a girl. or a guy. it's name is pat. survey says: survey don't know. pat doesn't use the bathroom at work.

we can't figure out how this chick misses the moustache every day, but she does have great hair. survey says: don't pick a fight, she's a super freak.

this chick actually wears leather chaps on casual fridays. (i am so not kidding.) survey says: seen her in the bathroom, it's still a little weird.

oh god i love my job...

ooh creepy...

the 666th post. i feel like i need to go to church or something.

yeah, i don't think i can work under these conditions.

moving on...

[janel will insert catchy title here. when she thinks of it.]

i can't tell if it's raining or snowing. it's snaining. or maybe its rowing. hmm...

i only have a few days of freedom left before the giant corporate conglomerate starts chaining me to a desk and slowly sucking the life out of me on a daily basis, allowing me just a few hours each evening to regenerate enough life fluid to survive. how i adore the banalities of corporate america. it makes me wonder why i have a degree in what i have a degree in, anyway, considering how much i hate "the man" and what "he" stands for.

damn the man. what the fuck was i thinking? i should have been an art major (except i flunked art history 101, baby!) or a history major (but the history channel puts me to sleep) so maybe i just should have skipped college all together and saved myself the money and stress. whatever. it's a little late to decide that now. it's not like i can return my degree.

"hi, i'm not happy with decision or with this debt load. i'd like to return this degree on the grounds that it has been unsatisfactory for me and that i didn't really pay a whole hell a lot of attention anyway. i mean, really, let's not fool ourselves here - you and i both know that i only attended class on days that were absolutely necessary and sometimes not even then. yeah. check that shit. i'll wait. yeah, seriously, what were you thinking, letting me graduate? i'm not a very good representative of your school. you should take this shit away on general principle alone, man. no, my feelings aren't hurt. well, maybe a little. now what am i going to tell people i've been doing for the last 8 years of my life? fuck. well, that's my problem, not yours. okay, yeah, so can i get a receipt for this? awesome..."

that's so not going to happen.

today was therapy day. no one cried, no one yelled or screamed or made an ass out of themselves. i didn't have to drag him in and he didn't run out midsession - i consider that a personal victory. i think we both learned a little bit about each other - our emotional needs and how we think the other is fulfilling them. some of the discussion was interesting, it got a little tense in a couple spots, but nothing we couldn't talk our way out of. and i don't think he completely disliked my therapist but he wasn't completely comfortable with her, either. normal i guess - who wants to talk about their sex life in front of a total stranger? i can't blame him for that. but we'll see if we apply what we've learned to every day life, that's the hard part. i'll keep you posted.

i have stuff on ebay. did i tell you that? i have a few things to ship so after i leave panera i have to go to the post office. in the snow. i hate snow. actually i don't hate snow i just hate snow in april. because i've already started wearing slippas and once i start wearing slippas i can't stop wearing slippas because then i feel like a poser and who wants to feel like a poser?

i'm just rambling here, because i have nothing else to do today. if i go home, i'll want to read a book and i'm not starting any more books until i finish pride and prejudice and i may just hang myself from the shower curtain rod before i actually finish that freaking nightmare. ugh. what in the world was i thinking? i have all these books i want to read and this one book that's holding me up. although, now that i have found the footnotes it's going a little bit faster. and who in the world puts all the footnotes at the END of the book? that's just dumb. that's upsetting me greatly.

i have to go play fantasy nascar now. i have a first place lead to extend.

the snow is starting to stick. yuckity yuck yuck yuck....

what color hot pads do you want?

i'm hungry. i need to go to the supermarket. i despise grocery shopping, especially right now. i'm a little disgruntled with the whole chubby kids thing - my weigh in yesterday didn't go as well as i would have liked. three weeks in and i'm already cursing the program. that's not a good sign, is it? but it's my own willpower, or lack of, that's the issue - it's not necessarily chubby kids. i went to a center here in dsm, i didn't go all the way back home because i didn't feel like driving all that way just so i could drive back last night. and the people were nice but it just wasn't the same. i missed nigel and her crazy sister and all the werido local people that i've seen for the last couple weeks and the chubby kids nazi with the orthopedic shoes that we tease merclilessly over text message. it's just not the same when i'm all by myself with a group of people i don't know.

the bee is going to therapy with me next week. it didn't take any pleading or prodding; i just mentioned that my therapist thought it could be a good idea for us and he said he'd go next week. i about fell off the bed when i got that text message, i was so shocked. so when i left my appointment yesterday, she gave me our "homework" for next week. we have to evaluate our needs on 10 or 12 topics such as affection, admiration, conversation, honesty, sexual fullfilment, financial dedication, family dedication and so on and so forth. and then we have to rate how our partner meets our needs in each of those categories. the bee seems to think that this will be little more than the basis for a good argument. i liken it to a good honest (mediated) conversation. i guess we'll find out next week. if we end up in opposite corners of the room wearing boxing gloves, maybe therapy wasn't such a good idea... but i don't see that happening. i hope not, anyway.

my interview was this morning. i think it went well; it all hinges on a background check and then i guess i get to start work on april 7. it was kind of funny, i walked into a little conference room with a supervisor and we sat down and he said to me, "i'm supposed to ask you all these questions but i can see from your resume and from looking at you that you can do this job. you're overqualified for it, actually. you've been in the car business, so i'm going to be frank: the pay fucking sucks, the job is shit. but stick it out for a year and we'll get you transferred into something you actually want to do."

i cracked up.

i think he asked me about 25 percent of the questions on his list; the rest he made up the answers to as he went along. we drafted an offer of employment, which we both signed, which like i said, i think means i've been offered a job. and he's right, the pay sucks and the job does too, but it's a big company with lots of opportunity for growth and he seems cool. it's the same place that my little brother's crazy girlfriend works, so i already know someone and she said she'd split the referral bonus with me if i list her on the paperwork.

rock.

and like the therapist said, a job is a job until a better job comes along.

indeed. plus, it's laid back (i can wear jeans), it's easy work (dude, who's better at getting pissy than i am?), and it's dollars (as opposed to the less popular and more difficult to spend rupee). and dollars are dollars are dollars. plus (and this is one of the cooler benefits) i have the chance of winning a wii, if i do well. effin-a-right, cotton. fuck yes. i will get a wii. and i won't pay for it. i'm not talking all coastal mart style. but i will get me a damn wii. assuming i pass the background check. which means that i'm crossing my fingers that they don't discover the six months i spent in chico for selling mexican bam-bam to unsuspecting touristas in guadalajara.

that's a joke.

i can't get anyone to go to mexico with me. (and now that you know what i want to do when i get there, you can clearly see why...) and i don't even really know where chico is. i mean, i know where chico is, but is that where the prison is? i have no idea. i don't even really know what bam-bam is. i'd google it but then federal agents would prolly bust through the doors of the panera that i'm sitting in at the moment and then i'd have to explain what the fuck i'm doing googling bam-bam in the middle of panera on merle hay road in the smack dab center of white bread america and it'd turn out that they've been watching me for awhile now because i once checked out that charles manson book in like the 7th grade and i watch a lot of csi: miami and i recently figured out what m.o. means and how to stop the bleeding on an open wound with super glue. i'm obviously a threat to society and i'm well aware of it. i'd get hauled out of here in handcuffs, ala reese bobby in talladega nights but i don't have a cool car to climb into through the window, nor do i have a classroom of fifth graders to impress by screaming, "if you're not first you're last" so i'd have to knock over a trashcan or break a window on the way out with my foot or something and when it was all said and done and i'd done my time at the local women's prison and made everyone i know a dozen hand-crocheted hot pads and was spending my days on parole, wearing knock-off shoelace free white keds and being banned from the internet and all things technical, like that kid in the movie hackers, i'd have to pay fucking panera some resistution for their fucking trashcan or their dumbass window which i probably cut my foot on anyway.

which i could have stopped from bleeding and getting infected if they'd just have given me a tube of g.d. superglue.

fuck. don't they watch csi?

hand dipped for your pleasure

chocolate covered purple headed yogurt slinger, anyone?

i'm glad i didn't spend any money on this for libbeth's birthday. she says the entire operation is penis based, as the chocolate-dipped bananas are "phallic" in nature and the phone number is 877-DO-FRUIT.

she may be on to something. or maybe we just watch entirely too much tv.

tubby custard!

my horizons have been expanded since my arrival in the south. instead of marathons of csi: miami and seinfeld, i have been watching hours and hours of hannah montana and fineus and ferb and the wizards of waverly place. and i have watched so much of this, some of it even by choice, kid you not, that i am beginning to see rerums. no joke. i've always loved kid stuff - up until a few years ago i was infatuated with one of the powerpuff girls, i think her name was buttercup. i liked her because she was always pissy looking and i'm generally sort of pissy about something. (i inherited a general distaste for authority from my father; i come by it naturally, it's not my fault!) i ate frosted mini wheats for breakfast this morning (at 2 pm) out of a teletubbies bowl that was shouting tubby custard! at me. i kind of enjoyed it.

so as if one blog isn't enough, i'm considering this. i think it seems kind of interesting. besides, i want to know if i can remember that many people and their names and what i did or did not find remarkable about them. if you read some of the blogs that others have done, there are some really interesting things out there. people have put a lot of time and thought into this. others, well, not so much. i don't want to do it if i'm going to fall into the latter, of course, so i'm going to give it some thought. but it sounds like it could be fun.

all the kiddos are sick. i think even libbeth and ryan are coming down with something. i'm trying really hard not to catch it and that means taking lots of vitamins (but not 40 in one day) and hiding out when possible (because germs are far less communicable when they're not in your room). however, i think ryan is chomping at the bit to toss my lazy ass off the damn futon so he can get some work done, and understandably so. if he can't work, he can't make money. and if he can't make money, libbeth can't buy groceries. and if she can't buy groceries, then i can't eat. so for my own well being, at least for the next week, i really should remove myself from this room and let him get some work done. good lord almighty, i am such a slack ass.

there has to be something more productive i can be doing. toodles for now...

and why was there a dolphin in the road?

woohoo for interviews. but the girl i talked to on the phone was a freaking idiot. "um... you are? and i am? and what do you want again? and do you have our phone number?" i kid you not, she made these statements. i felt my IQ dropping just by talking to her. having her as a coworker could be dangerous to my health and well being. but again: cart, horse, u-haul, blah, blah, blah.

so. i did receive some advice. and i thank you all for your advice. it was all much appreciated and i've taken it all under consideration. there are some pros that i did not think to list, such as the supremacy of the EST to the CST, the number of maple syrup eating ninjas on the eastern seaboard, the lack of amish people with their fence-jumping and highway-inhabiting cows, and no tony danza (and none under my bed, i checked!). the con that keeps coming to mind is the biggest one on the list and that is my family. i'm just very close to my family. my mom has become one of my closest confidants. and i'm very close to mark and my brothers as well. the idea of leaving them makes me very sad. in my mind, i can solve that problem by telling myself that its just a day's drive to see them. but i have a hard time convincing my heart that it's the same thing, you know?

but i'm just going to put it all out on the table and tell you what i want and then tell you my (very) legitimate fears about the entire decision.

i want to move. i want out of iowa and away from the the things that remind me of the baby and the life i had planned. i want to go somewhere and be anonymous for a while until i decide to let people into my life again. i have loved north carolina since the moment i first landed here nearly eight years ago and i would love to live here. if everything i'm reading is true, it's not that much more expensive to live here than it is to live in des moines. there are obviously expensive neighborhoods and there are not-so-expensive neighborhoods. and there are jobs that i'm qualified for and jobs i could get hired for in no time. i could make this happen.

however, my fear lies in the fact that my track record lately as far as moving/independence/adult decisions has sort of sucked. and my parents have had to rescue me from leases, roommates, boyfriends, and so on and so forth. i've become the poster child for slackerdom. granted, some certain circumstances have been out of my control and i have been so thankful for my parents help and support. but the last year has not been my greatest year when it comes to making it on my own. and i'm terrified of having to ask my parents for help from 996 miles away. i'm also terrified of leaning on the only two people i know 996 miles away from home too much - relying on their friendship and generosity to the point of becoming a leech. because if i know me, i can easily get to that point. and i don't want to lose a friendship over it. and even though they may rent me a futon for 80$ a month, i don't want to abuse a good thing.

and there you have it. that's what i want and that's what i fear. i feel like i have become incredibly weak in the last two years. i don't know where this has come from. i think at one point i would have jumped all over this and not looked back. now i can barely go to the bathroom without thinking twice: "do i want to go right now? what if there's no toilet paper?" what is that all about?

i am such a freak sometimes.

tomorrow we are going shopping. and i heart me some shopping. this whole thing could have been avoided if i had just packed some decent clothes. because i distinctly remember having this conversation with myself - do i pack decent clothes and shoes, or do i pack things i can bum around in? and being the sarcastic, pessimistic asshole that i can be sometimes, i was all, who needs a fucking job anyway and why would i want to spend my vacay on a freaking interview? well, as it turns out, i do in fact like dollars and people who want to give me a paycheck can be my friends. so i'm going to go interview a new friend and i'm going to have new clothes for this soiree. but they're going to be cheap clothes because i still have to pay my damn cell phone bill.

i want that seafood platter i saw on the food network. i've been thinking about this for a couple days now. i think after the interview i may force everyone into the car and drive them all to georgia against their will. i mean, if you're going to commit a capital crime such as kidnapping, you might as well go all out, right? we should at least have some good food, or what appears to be good food, before i get hauled off to the clink. plus, i'll be wearing my new interview clothes and having good hair (because who wears bad hair to an interview) so i'll look good for the tv cameras when the cops catch me after my seafood eating crime spree. hmm... just a thought.

i'm moderately obsessed with craigslist these days. and as such, you have to read this. i have not laughed so hard in a long time. and it's good to laugh.

and the award goes to...

i forgot to mention i have found the most ingenious product on the market right now.

**puffs with vicks vapo-rub scent**

wow. it's a whole new experience in blowing your nose.

help, i need somebody, not just anybody...

last night i couldn't sleep. i had this giant ball of stress in my stomach that just wouldn't unwind. and i'll admit, there's a few things on my mind. some of them are of my own doing; others are things out of my control. some are just fucking absurd, things that i probably shouldn't be contemplating but i am. isn't it strange sometimes how much of your life is out of your control? its like, no matter what your life plan is, it doesn't really matter because you can't stop what comes at you 94 percent of the time anyway.

i was just thinking about this the other day. i make a million decisions everyday, from where to part my hair to whether or not to eat breakfast to moving in with the bee. and at the time, they seem insignificant, unimportant. but sometimes, hours, days, months, years down the road you turn around and say, "that day, that one day, that one decision i made, it was life changing, but i didn't know it at the time." its just interesting to think about. not that breakfast or where i part my hair are generally life altering decisions. but sometimes the things i think are nothing are acutally something and i just don't know it until it's already passed.

does this mean i just don't pay attention? is everyone like this? do i make snap judgements and not consider the consequences? or is my life out of my hands, to a certain degree? am i just following some path that's been laid out in front of me, direction and destination unknown?

i'm fully aware that some of the decisions i make are less than stellar and i make them anyway. sometimes they fit what i want at that exact moment. sometimes i'm not sure what the fuck i'm doing but i do it in spite of that fact. sometimes i just like to pretend that i know what i'm doing because i'm tired of the indecision - gotta do something even if its wrong.

sometimes i just don't know.