Tuesday Nights with Dog

Tuesday nights are my trashy, trashy TV nights. Most notably, 16 & Pregnant. And before this week, we only had one TV with a cable hook up, which was Addie's TV in the bedroom. So I basically took over our apartment with my need to watch 16 year old's making completely obvious horrible life decisions, or rotund women try on wedding dresses, or hoarders hoarding under the guise of coupons.

That's normal.

So it was really exciting [for Addie] when I finally hooked my TV up to our cable connection, and set up my futon cushion (where's the frame? long story. It'll be here in a few weeks) to make my Audrey Perch, as that meant I could kill my IQ without inflicting it on others.

However.

Last night, I sat down in the cushion, and lo and behold, Bart came to join me.

we're counting how many times the girls start crying in each segment

Don't  worry, that mild nausea you feel is the result of 800 mis-matched colors and patterns coming together in some sort of hellish blend. Plz not to mind the temporary gross striped cover. or my $.33 cent hoodie. Or the way I watch TV huddled over like a line backer. Eeshhh...

My theory is that Bart has adjusted to Trash TV Tuesday. As we sat, totally absorbed by the unfolding drama, I realized that he's always hung out with me during these times, curled up and totally watching. I'm sure that the two Tuesdays I was gone, Dog was lost and lonely for some reason from 10-11 PM, not sure why, but knowing that something was wrong and missing.

16 & Pregnant is what was missing.

Regardless of what Addie says, Dog shares my love for crap TV. We've bonded. And we hung out all night on the futon cushion (fu-tshion?) discussing the dilemmas presented to us by MTV. It was awesome. I need a life.

Speaking of more awesome, I drew in on the Vonnegut quote Mandy posted.

I get bored during commercials.

And took a shot of my Audrey Corner, which looked unusually cozy last night (typically it has a dark, daunting air of WHY AREN'T YOU WORKING).

can you point out the 8 things in this picture that make me cooler than you?

Yeah. The last few days have been tough. I'm working on my Deal With It skills.

Yep.


**answer key**

1. red crocs. WHAT UP, EMERGENCY SHOES.

2. ziploc box, posing as a trash can. trifty.

3. Ad from a 1920's magazine featuring finely adorned, aging socialites touting Camel cigarettes. quote "I like Camels because they are rich and mild and don't make me nervous." Mrs. Powell Cabot, Boston (pssst... Mrs. Cabot, that's why I like nerdy white guys from Fairfax County.)

4. $10 shoes. oh yes. Plz note the hemp soles on the black pair. I've nearly killed myself 47x while wearing these on non-wood flooring.

5. The sign my Dad and I stole from a 4-H locker a few years ago. It weighs 90 lbs and is made of reflective material, so it's a bitch to photograph.

6. words of wisdom. Now the Vonnegut quote is up there, too. And on the white board--REJECTION and BILLS! woo!

7. clumsy organization. I have 4 different boxes with 4 separate labels holding the same damn things. Meh. And everyone keeps their excess art supplies in a plastic grocery bag, right? Not unless you're cool as me.

8. exposed tags on an uncovered college dorm chair. Smooooooth and chic, baby.

I mean, I could add 9) exposed extension cords, and 10) Star Wars poster, but I don't wanna make you guys feel bad.

oh, and this is Bart now, failing at Futon.

First Dishes Debate

I'm having a difficult time starting this entry with something other than "Adventures in Audrey and Addie Having Redundant Discus-uments About Things That Don't Matter, vol. 52"

They're called "discus-uments" because they always start off as general discussions, and end up in full blown arguments. While it has only amounted to name-calling and character assaulting once, these little moments are great in their infamy. So great, that if these topics just so happen to come up in conversation with other people, we just stop talking. That's how polarizing it is.

Famous examples of these discus-uments:

- whether the song "I want it that way" by the Backstreet Boys is a perfect pop song (Addie pro/Audrey con)
- whether or not Ramen noodles can be considered Chinese fast food (Audrey pro/Addie con)
- should you be sympathetic for Nurse Ratched? (Audrey pro/Addie con)


And it's odd, but these random war zones don't irritate me at all. Because they're basically fights among 5th graders-- best of friends, a sudden fight, and then we're over it 10 minutes later when a funny commercial comes on. And no matter how heated the fight, we're always laughing about it the next day. Since we're both way too talky-talky and have only been living together for 3 months, we haven't had many opportunities to have a big, screaming, blow out fight. So we take them where we can get them.

With that said, let's talk about Sunday night!

I've mentioned before how few dishes Addie uses throughout the day. He's got that boy talent that allows him to use one glass per day, rinsing it out between drinks. And he'll never use a plate when he can eat off a paper towel or out of a tupperware container, in which he'll also store left overs. So when he's by himself, he'll have like 4 dishes to wash at the end of the week.

I'm the exact opposite. I have lots of dishes because I like to use my dishes, including plates, bowls and real silverware. Beyond that, I have a debilitating habit about needing a clean cup for each time I have a new drink. I think it comes from watching my dad drink a glass of milk, immediately filling the cup with water, and drinking it, even though it was milk-cloudy (dad's from farmer stock, and rarely sees anything as "gross"). I'm pretty famous for not liking "stuff" in my drinks--from not drinking water that's had a lemon slice in it for more than .2 seconds, to avoiding pulpy OJ and any kind of mojito. I just need my dishes to be clean, right? And we don't have a dishwasher, so instead of washing dishes 37x a day just to have clean stuff, I'll use the dishes that are already clean, and then do dishes at the end of the night. Logical.

But I'm also human (lazy) and sometimes let a day or two go between dishes. And since Addie can't get me to conform to his dishes-minimalism, we've just decided to do our own dishes. Problem solved. And that seemed to settle things. Until Sunday.

I can't remember how it started, most likely with me saying "If you have dishes in the sink when I'm doing mine, I'll wash them for you. It's no problem to me. But you always leave mine for me. What's the deal?" Jesus lord. I think we discuss-umented for about 8 hours as to why he won't do all the dishes in the sink. But the most ridiculous part is, we threw around the same lines of argument for the entire 8 hours, with neither one of us backing down.

"If you're at the sink, doing dishes, and you see a few extra cups, why not do them too?"
"Do you know how much time it takes me to do ALL the dishes you use?"
"Like 10 seconds, maybe, if you're slow?"

"When I do dishes, it's like one or two pieces. You always have like, 7 or 8."
"So? It's a consideration thing. Why do you take all the responsibility for taking out the trash and recycling and most of the sweeping--but shudder at washing a few extra pieces?"
"Because there are so many of them!"
"You act like I fill up the entire sink and use every single dish we own!"

"The problem is-- you're used to doing dishes all the time. I'm used to taking care of mine."
"How can you just wash some and not all, especially with our spider problem?"

"I think that you're afraid if you do my dishes once, I'll keep leaving them for you to do."
"No, not at all." (3 hours later) "I don't do them because I don't want to get stuck constantly washing all your dishes." (duh)

"And I never ask you to wash my dishes. And I always tell you to leave them for me."
"That's not the point. The point is, I'm doing something for you so you don't have to do it. And it's not a problem for me to do it, it's a problem that you don't want to do it for me."
"But I take out the trash!"
"You always get to it before me!"


Yeah, so it went ON and ON and ON like that. It ended with me conceding not to ever wash his dishes again. But ultimately, I won, because of this little moment of righteousness:

"Really? How have you changed since you've been here?"

"I've so compromised my habits! I keep a nalgene bottle so I don't use 800 water glasses everyday. How have you compromised?"
"And I've let you throw out food that I *know* hasn't gone bad yet."
"I do that because if food is even slightly expired or slightly moldy, I get sick."

After we settled things, I had the rest of the Mongolian Beef that he had made on Friday. And 3 hours later, woke up with a vicious, 12 hour case of food poisoning.

Granted, it's the most painful way I've won a most pointless argument (because he's totally right, I have no problem with doing his dishes if he's the one who has to get spiders in his car from driving the recycling bin to the dump, and walk the smelly trash all the way to the trash spot), but whatever. I'm a winner.

And he did all the dishes last night. And today. :D

First (second) trip back to VA

Holy hell, what a week.

I can sum up my second trip back to Virginia in one word: sick.

Not sick as in, "DUDE, SICK!" but more like, waking up the morning after an 8 hour drive with a fever, incurable body pain, and general attitude of "please kill me." First, it was the UTI. Then, the pain reliever that gave me horrible, unplanned anxiety attacks (right when I was sitting in 495 traffic. whee!), vicodin prescriptions that didn't fly with my insurance, more terrible fevers, emergency calls, irritating antibiotic side effects, a stress-induced cold sore that erupted right on my lower lip on a precise nerve that runs from ear to ear, causing sever ear infection symptoms, 3 different doctor's appointments, lots of copay's, and last but not least, the need to sleep for 24 hours a day.

the buddies I made this week!

And then there was this really cute picture message chain that Addie sent me:

"Dog was stuck in this position for like 3 hours earlier. think he was waiting for you to come home :)"

"and when I told him it'd be a week before ya got back, he started crying"

"got him to pull himself together but he's still kinda bummed..."

D'awww :)

Family was in town, and I had people to see, so I didn't get to spend the entire week curled up in bed. But that was good too, as I got to see like, 90% of all the good people in my life, and I had some quality hang out time with my mom and EACH AND EVERY ONE OF MY SIBLINGS, including my sister WHO GOT ENGAGED OVER THE WEEKEND! Now we get to wedding plan. And also, because her story is one of those "miracle, love at first site" kinda deals, I've decided to apply [in her stead] to Say Yes to the Dress (which is more exciting than the actual wedding planning) :D

Also, I watched Game of Thrones. Jesus lord, talk about a HUGE story. I can barely recall character names. All I know is I like it. Need to watch again.

Totally miss having ondemand. 

Also also, mom totally hooked me up with groceries. God Bless insulated freezer bags.


But I was gone for almost 10 days (thank you illness), which is a long time. But it is nice to be home. Even if I did come home to a stack of medical bills and a pile of heavily edited rough drafts.

"we missed you too!"

There's a lot of writing to do, a lot of job hunting to do, a lot of crafts to do, a lot of living to do. And since I'm in a severely irritated with my life state of mind, I don't want to do any of it. I'm having a surprisingly difficult time getting in the mood to get back into my groove down here. (that sentence sounded suggestive, but really, it's not.)

Bahhhuueghhhh.

I'm going to do distract myself from this piss-poor attitude. And I'll leave you with this LOLcat I made of my mom's cat Raleigh.

a la Spiderman:

First Sippy Cups

Well, it's been a quiet week here at Camp Firsts.

There was lots of

-writing

(As of yesterday, I am officially up to 12 chapters, and that means I'm almost done with my Act 1. WOO!)

-reading 

(I'm finally finishing Charlaine Harris' Sookie Stackhouse series... it's actually getting better)

-cheese eating

(am now 98% havarti)

-coma napping

(best things ever)

-knitting

(super secret knitting project is looking awesome)

-Kennedy's researching

(we watched The Kennedys on instant netflix, which was pretty enjoyable. But it also led to fact checking missions on them about 46 times an episode. Am now well versed in Kennedy knowledge. Also, Barry Pepper is my new favorite actor. He was g-damn incredible as Bobby Kennedy. Still do not like Katie Holmes.) 

-job searching

(I'm on the verge of applying to Barnes and Noble. Lord help me.)

-Goodwill scouring

(I scored an awesome dress, 2 tunic tops, a sweater, a movie festival tshirt and this awesome button down converse dress I've been lusting over for $20. Yay!)

-spaghetti devouring

(spaghetti and meatballs=effing delicious)

-2 AM root beer float ingredients questing

(resulted in driving 20 mins out to the sketchiest mini-mart on Earth. But the victory root beer floats were the best things ever.)

-clothes altering

(I'm pretty sure all my dresses will have pockets sewn into them by the end of the summer. And I'm cutting down most of my t-shirts so they fit better. Lots of fun.)

-coffe house sitting 

(Surprisingly, if I'm writing in a place with no internet access, I actually get work done. Shocker.)

-pancake making 

(I made my first batch of pancakes. 2 were perfect, 2 were less than perfect, and 2 were burned like crazy [turns out you don't cook pancakes on HIGH heat. oops].)

-centipede squashing

(WE ARE AT WAR WITH THESE BUGS. And by war, I mean, I've eradicated 5 or so. 6 if you include the one that poured out of the kettle on Saturday morning. eeeugghhhh. But on the plus side, totally feels like I'm in Starship Troopers.)

THE ONLY GOOD BUG IS A DEAD BUG.

It's been a rough week. Between Addie's first four days quitting smoking and my extra crappy PMDD, we've been a mopey, bitchy mess. So yesterday, we both decided we were in desperate need of a pick me up. Which surprisingly came in the form of these super cool, $.50 sippy mugs. We took them home, filled them with bourbon and watched True Grit. 

Wow, you drink a lot more and a lot quicker when you're drinking from a sippie cup. wooooooooo. haha

Winners

But, a great time was had by all. And amidst all the fun, a fantastically crucial decision was made. (nothing involving vows or babies, calm down). But I don't want to blog about it til it's out of the planning stages. 

So that online magazine didn't take my piece. And that's ok. I figure it's just the first of many that I'll receive. But with all the book work I've done this week, and the accepted submission and rejection, I feel like a writer for the first time. I like it. And while I might not be where I want to be yet, professionally, I'm glad that everything has worked out the way it has. Plus, the amazing friends and family and support I have is unreal. :)  

And here are some random pictures. Hooray!

impromptu clothes dryer

Dog is so gangsta, he sleeps with one ear up*

But now, it is time for steak. And in two hours, The Killing! Whaddddup, lazy Sunday?

*like how Jay-Z is so gangsta, he sleeps with one eye up? Whatever. this is my new favorite joke.

First McAnger blog

Not gonna lie, I eat McDonald's.

Not like every day, or every other day, but probably at least once a month. I get Big Mac cravings. And if it's 3 AM and I'm coming home from the bars, I'm getting Late Night McNuggets. And if I have $1.10 in change, and I'm walking by the golden arches, I'll get a double cheeseburger. Well, that was before I moved to North Carolina and moved 5 minutes within a Hardees where they have an awesome 2 cheeseburgers for $3 deal. (actually, it's 3 for $3.33, as we've been corrected at two different Hardees).

So after much bombardment of the NEW TASTY McNUGGET SAUCE commercials, Addie broke down and decided to McTry them.

We were both skeptical. I mean, it's McDoanld's. There's no way it'd be McLife changing. Or nearly as tasty as the Chik-fil-a sauces. In fact, one of my happiest memories is the day my friend Odie came down from Maryland to help me go through my storage boxes, and we got a super packet of nuggets from Chik-fil-a, and like, 2 of every sauce. We spread the sauce cups out, and had a fuckin nugget schmorgasboard while watching Groundhog Day or something ridiculous.

So we get to the McDrive thru, we order, wrapping it up with a 10 piece McNugget. The following conversation takes place.

high schooler: what kind of sauce would you like?
me: one of each
high schooler: what?
me: one of each. You have the new sauces? One of each.
high schooler: I have to charge you if you get more than 2.
me: what.
high schooler: it's 25 cents each if you want more than two.

[we give each other what? really? but I wanted to try the sauces. But they're charging us. But I want to try them. looks.]

me: ok, one of each. And one barbeque, and one sweet and sour for the french fries.
high schooler: drive around please.

[they're charging you for the sauces for the fries. No they're not, I'll ask her when we go around]

Now, because I'm on a hormonal warpath like a McChampion, and Addie's on day 3 of quitting smoking, the following McConversation happened.

addie: Are you charging us for the sauce for the fries?
high schooler: yes. sauce doesn't come with fries.
me: you're charging for sauce now? I got a 10 piece and I only get 2 sauces?
high schooler: yes.
addie: you're telling me, if I walked up to the counter, and ordered a large fries, and asked for a sweet and sour sauce, you'd charge me?
high schooler: yes.
me: Seriously?!
addie: what about ketchup? What if I wanted 46 packets of ketchup? Do I have to pay for them too?
high schooler: do you want ketchup, sir?
addie: NO!

We sat there in the car, holding up the McLine, debating on whether we'd pay an extra dollar for McSauces. In the end, we decided that since the McSauces did predicate our entire trip out there, and it was a dollar for McSauce or an extra $2 for another McSandwich (to replace the McNuggets and McSauce). So we went for it.

Man, the new sauces are McTerrible.

Since creamy ranch and honey mustard didn't sound new; we went with the classic bbq and sweet and sour, and then chose the "sweet chili" and "spicy buffalo," which I've re-named "McSpit up chinese sweet n sour sauce" and "McEvery buffalo sauce you've ever had, just worse" respectively.

ignore how gross I look. this is the face of writing for 8 hours+ every night.

So yeah, a huge McBust.

Just go to Chik-fil-a.

First 7 chapters!

I pulled a ridiculous all nighter last night, working from midnight-7:30 this morning.

It was intense! But I got three chapters written, and the entire first season of Teen Mom and most of the second season of Hoarders watched (thank you, instant Netflix.), so yes, very productive.

As a result, I slept until 3:30, woke up a stupid mopey mess, made a Disappointment/Things I Need to Do list, ate a huge lunch, took a shower, and went down for another 3 hour nap. Basically, I've been use-less. It was kind of a fussy Sunday until I got an email from this super cool website, Squawk Back, and they posted a story I sent them.

Woo, I'm ONLINE for the first time! RIGHT HERE, GUYS

Fantastic! This is great for a couple of reasons:

a) I'm 'published'
b) on something other than my blog or my facebook
c) I sent it in impulsively, so that was a pleasant surprise

I didn't get paid, and it's not a huge lit site, but *I don't care* :D I'm still giggly excited. I still haven't heard back from the online magazine I submitted to last week, but that's ok. Apparently patience is a virtue. Or something.

Oh, I also claimed a victory in the ongoing Addie vs Audrey vs Wall Hangings war. For someone who "doesn't care what goes up on the walls," he certainly has a lot of opinions on everything I try to put up in the shared areas. Like I said, this is on ongoing war, as I was raised with on the Empty Walls are a Waste mentality, and Addie's more We have a picture up. That's good enough.

before: bare wall is bare.

Behind Bart's rainy day towel is a really cool map of the Appalachian trail that Addie's mom had framed for him. We had it hung on wall for about .34 seconds before the hanging piece on the frame broke off. So the frame crashed and cracked all along the bottom. I've gotta get some wood glue and a stronger hanging piece before we can hang it again.

But we'll have to find another place for it, since we agreed to hang this awesome piece of awesome there instead:

fuck yeah!

 It needs a new frame, but it's seriously my favorite poster, ever. And I really need to figure out what I can do about the oh so saucy extension cords hanging up. Bleh.

The next battle is the highly contested "over the bed" territory:

omg it needs something. even a shelf would be awesome.

Ohh, maybe a kick ass wall decal?

OHHHH HEAAAAAAAALLLL YES

In case you can't tell, that's Wolverine jumping at a T-Rex. And yes, it's straight up fabulous.

And speaking of straight up fabulous, Addie came up with "white trash cheese cake"

It's crushed cracklin oat-bran on the bottom, Philadelphia Cream Cheese cheese cake filling, and raspberry pie filling on top. It was actually pretty damn tasty.



So hooray, Stupid Sunday was transformed into Stupendous Sunday, Full of Win. And tomorrow it's back to the grind, assuming I can re-vert my sleep schedule to something a little more human.

First (and hopefully only)Titanic blog

There is nothing critically endearing to me about Titanic. But, it's definitely a guilty pleasure.

So when it's on TV, I'll definitely stop and watch it for a few minutes... that is, until someone I live with walks in and is all "really?" and I'm like "oh... yeah... there was nothing else on" and he's like "What about this or this or this or all the movies we own? How about a blank screen? All those are better than Titanic." and I'm like, "so." as I sheepishly change the channel.

I mean, there's nothing critically endearing that binds me to this movie (other than Kate Winslet's costumes). Besides Home Alone, which I barely remember, it was my first official, re-released, record breaking blockbuster. And, I'm attached to it for the seminal, traumatizing, moments that happened to me during its long theater life.




I saw Titanic probably... 2 or 3 times when it was in theaters.


When it was released, I was a 13 year old, middle class white girl with a burgeoning crush on Leonardo Dicaprio (Shayne had shown me What's Eating Gilbert Grape and Marvin's Room that summer) who adored period pieces and James Cameron. Talk about a match made in demographic heaven.


But then again, I was 13. I was a puberty stricken monster; a skinny stack of hormones and confused angst. In 3 short months, I had traded in jelly sandals, short shorts and smiley face t-shirts for wide-leg Jnco's, button down flannels, and Air Walks. I learned all the lyrics to every Marilyn Manson song in a weekend in order to impress my "boyfriend" Joey, aka the guy who I sat with at lunch and who walked me home from school every day. My group of friends was morphing from quasi-preppy to greasy "banger" (does the "banger" subculture even exist anymore? I feel like it drowned somewhere in the late 90's, in between the high school Goth and high school poser Raver waves). I was told by more than one of my older friends that "Bangers don't read" and "who are the Doors? that's lame. Listen to this Korn and Bush mix tape." I had zero self esteem, friends who were terrible influences, and I spent 90% of my time focused on being miserable. The other 10% I spent sleeping.  


Who said "youth is wasted on the young?"** because it's incredibly true.


Anyway, it went against everything I imagined I stood for to be interested in something so mainstream as Titanic. Even if it didn't have that terrible, terrible song, it was still on the pages of Tiger Beat and Bop, and all the really bitchy preppy girls were bragging on how they saw it "SO. MANY. TIMES." And based on how much Kristina, Joey and I made fun of it on our walks home, I shelved it as something I'd never watch as long as I had a "cool" bone left in my body. But oh man did I want to see it.


And then, on one of the few "dates" that Joey and I were trying to plan, my parents said they would take us to go see a movie (because we were 13 and 14, and according to our parents, "weren't old enough to have unsupervised dates" or some other safe and reasonable nonsensical parental logic). Of course, the only movie my parents wanted to see was: Titanic.


WAH WAH WAAAAAAH.


Joey agreed to go, mostly because we hardly ever got to see or talk to each other outside of school, since I was too socially inept to talk to boys in person, and virtually paralyzed to talk to them on the phone. But I was inwardly excited. A movie I secretly want to see and seeing it with Joey? SCORE.


However, when we got to the ticket booth, Titanic was sold out. What wasn't sold out? 007: Tomorrow Never Dies. also titled: Yet Another Installment in a Franchise so Boring it Makes Audrey Rip Her Teeth Out. Oh yes, we watched it. I hated it. Then we had the world's most awkward dinner date with my parents and Mary. I think we even drove all the way to Annapolis to go to the fancy Red Hot & Blue, and they were out of everything Joey would eat. Ugh. We broke up a few weeks later.


A few months later, some of my terrible influence friends decided they wanted to go see Titanic. One of the other mom's was paying, so I was all about it. A movie that I secretly want to see and seeing it with my friends? And I don't have to beg movie money off my mom? SCORE. As soon as we got to the theater, one of the girls, whose name I can't remember, might've been Aly, made fun of my clothes. So what if I had a garbage green old man sweater, a pair of baby blue corduroy bell bottoms, and my disgustingly dirty brown air-walks? [I've never had any sense of style.] So I sat and brooded, feeling like a douche while the other girls had fun, until one of them convinced me to sneak out of our seats to play arcade games and to have popcorn catching competitions in the back of the theater. It didn't make me feel better, because I was 13 and recently dumped and I knew I'd never have a love affair as great as Jack and Rose (Yes at 13, I seriously felt I would die poor, unloved and alone). But then, one of the girls told me the only reason they invited me along was to give me "one last shot at being cool." Needless to say, I blew it. I learned how awful kids can be, and we weren't friends again for almost a year.


Just before the school year ended, our band, orchestra and chorus had a concert. I was in the alto chorus section with Robynne, who had transferred into our school 3 or 4 months prior and had basically made her mind up that I was a freak. Some how or another, we got to talking, and joking, and ended up singing the entirety of "My Heart Will Go ON" as the band and orchestra played the instrumental version. I had started what would be a close friendship for years that night, but it was still an especially bittersweet moment for me. Joey played base in the orchestra, and his new girlfriend (the one who immediately replaced me, the one who gave it up on the first date, who he said he hated) played violin. He was standing behind her while they played, and he leaned down and kissed her on the top of the head when they were done.


Yeah. That sucked.


Later that summer, when Titanic was re-released in theaters, my friend Pam and I convinced each other to go see it. I was pretty excited, considering my earlier attempts at watching it had been thwarted. We had fun, cracking inappropriate jokes, lusting over Leo, and awkwardly running into this girl Rachel, who was one of my idols of Cool, and also a close friend of Pam's older sister, during intermission. And it was fun right... up... until... the scene when Cal is walking around the ship that rescued the survivors, and he's looking for Rose. I started feeling sad. And when elderly Rose was on the dock at Ellis Island, and said her name was "Rose Dawson," I got all kinds of verklempt. And when she said "A woman's heart is an ocean of secrets," I freeaakin lost it. I cried so hard and so loud, everyone (including Super Cool Rachel) turned to look at me to see if I was ok. I motioned "I don't know what's wrong with me!" as I sobbed, humiliating the life out of Pam. It was weird, I really did have no idea what was going on with me. I never cried during movies before. 


As I explained what happened at the theater to my mom, she explained the glorious nature of hormones and how they negatively affect things like "rational thinking" and "watching sappy movies without shaming yourself." She have me a consoling pat on the back while telling me "Now you know what it's like to be a real woman."


Great, I became a real woman while watching Titanic.


And then there was the time my roommate Kristin and I were packing up our apartment in our scuzzy pj's in the middle of the day, guiltily watching Titanic, when my friend Chris showed up from Maryland on a "surprise visit," thoroughly embarassing all three of us. But, he bought us pizza, so on the grand scale of things, it wasn't terrible at all.   




So yeah, terrible, sappy movie or not, it unfortunately has a place in my life. Not that I've ever felt the need to buy it.


But shit, 13 years later and I still tear up watching the final Rose monologue.


No shame, guys.


No shame.  

First Attempt at Burning Down the House

a little on the dry side.

This is what happens when you don't pay attention to toast in the toaster oven.

First, I smelled delicious toast. And I was all "it's ok, I'll just finish this email. The toaster oven hasn't been on that long."

Seconds later, I heard a muffled *boom*, and saw flames and smoke brush against the toaster oven door.

"OH SHIT!" I yelled, and ran over to turn off the toaster oven. I opened the oven door and the smoke just POURED out. The flame went out, and I reached in with tongs to pull out the char-planks I had just made.

Our apartment was filled with thick, burnt toast smelling smoke for an hour or so. And the burnt toast smell is apparent, still, after 8 hours. Whooops!

I'm just thankful the flame went out on its own, otherwise I'd be eating the whole "I DON'T NEED A FIRE EXTINGUISHER IT'S NOT LIKE I'M GOING TO BURN THE PLACE DOWN YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW ME GAH" speech I gave my mom last month. Whoooops again!

So, I've been banned from cooking for the next few weeks. And that ban was spread to the entire kitchen when I almost dropped a stack of plates.

It's uh, it's been an off day.


In all seriousness, though, it took close to 2 months for me to cause my first kitchen catastrophe? Fuck yeah.

First Submission

"Shouldn't you be blogging."
"I am. I'm re-designing it."
"Does that really count as blogging?"
"No, not really..."
"You should be blogging."



Hooray for watch dogs. :)

and hooray for new template designs! Since I'm limited on the space that I can obsessively rearrange, I'll continuously work on this blog. And tame my OCD while I'm at it. 

So! Important news: I officially submitted a piece to an online magazine. It seems like a really cool, well done, artsy magazine, and the editor I contacted was super chill. And since an essay/story thing I wrote a few years ago fell right in line with their upcoming issue, I threw caution to the wind and sent it off. Well, I edited the f-ing day lights out of it and then sent it off.

For anyone who's read Anne Lamott's "Shitty First Drafts" and for those that haven't, I'll sum it up: first drafts suck. But more often than not, so do second, third and fourth... and sixteenth and seventeenth drafts. Me, I write exceptionally shitty first drafts. The piece I submitted today, I'd worked out 3 or 4 drafts before. I even sent it off as my writing sample for the grad school program that I didn't get into. And after not looking at it for 15 months, and after doing new edits...

sheeeeeeeeit.

It was shitty. No wonder I'm not in grad school. But, I'm pretty damn sure the work I did on it over the last 4 days turned it into a really solid piece. Right? Right.

I hadn't submitted anything before, except for competitions... in elementary school--but I am proud to say that BOTH times I submitted book reviews to our morning announcements, I won. Booyah. I guess I've always made up lame excuses in order to not submit my work. It's part of that "avoiding action without a fixed positive outcome so I won't ever fail" (thank you, random therapist from college years) as well as lingering "ughhhh what are people going to think of this?" anxiety I've had since middle school. It's taken me years and years to feel comfortable with showing other people my writing. I still get nervy and defensive when I show things to Addie, or email samples to my friends. Of course, the people I know are all pretty damn supportive of what I do (they're the best, really).

Blogging, of course, is different. This is just my hodge podge and blither blather, so there's no real need for structure or plot or resolution. A read at your own risk, no deadlines, this won't ever get published deal. And there's a certain comfort, as well as a thrill in that. I know strangers *might* be reading this, and coming back when I update, and that's cool. It's great to watch my view numbers climb, even if a lot of them are my mom accidentally reading each entry individually... (love you mom!) 

Alright, enough narcissism. I'm just crossing my fingers every cross-able appendage that they accept it. It'd be nice. But even if they don't, it's great, because at least I ripped the proverbial band-aid off my submission fears. Now it will be easier to send things off. Hopefully.



and to round things out, here's Bart enjoying the 3 ft long "joy stick" we got from the Three Dog Bakery, which is basically 3 feet of raw hide and beef jerky and cheese dust.

NOM

NOM NOM NOM

He devoured it in about 36.5 minutes. And has been gassy ever since.
Joyful, indeed.