Monday, October 31, 2005

Happy Halloween, everyone!

The princess, the unicorn, the '50s girl, the cheerleader, the graduate, the jelly beans and the mechanic

Sunday, October 30, 2005

Shoes, self

I'm playing on a women's indoor team on Sunday nights; the soccer facility I'm playing at has FieldTurf so, being the equipment whore that I am, I bought myself some turf shoes this weekend.

Flashy, aren't they?

I had a game tonight; I didn't wear them. Not because of the fear of blisters. It was fear of others.

I told myself that flashy shoes should be reserved for flashy players. I stuffed them back into my bag, trading them for a conservative pair of black indoor flats. What if I'd worn my new Nikes and played poorly? I'd look like a poseur.

Heaven forbid.

I wish I could get over myself and stop caring so much. Being this self-conscious is absolutely exhausting.

Saturday, October 29, 2005

Harvest Fest 2005

Mom and I went to Meg's hockey game last night and, due to its unfortunate start time (9:30), we got home rather late. I stayed the night.

This morning I woke up peppy, festive and inspired. I needed to leave by 12:00 (I have to work today), but I managed to:
1. Bake a huge batch of pumpkin muffins.
And when I say huge, I'm really not kidding. The recipe calls for 6 eggs and 5 cups of sugar. But ohmygoodlord are they the most delicious muffins ever.
2. Make apple sauce.
The batch of apple sauce bordered on huge, too. Many, many apples to peel and cut. Much, much apple sauce now sitting in my refrigerator, patiently waiting for consumption.
3. Carve pumpkins.
My pumpkin looks like a kitty. It is adorable and, if I can fight the lazy bug, I will post a picture and you will all coo at its cuteness.

Then I packed up a bunch of shit.
And I took a shower.

I even left early!

I am a domestic goddess and the ideal wife and stay-at-home mom, without the marriage/husband/children/means to stay at home.

I need to work on that.

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

Let's classify this as the third

When it comes to all of my sports, I'm pretty superstitious. It's very accepted in jock culture and, for whatever reason, I've always convinced myself that this made us won or that made me play poorly.

Outside of athletics, I'm not supertitious. Just last week, I had a customer freak out when he came across number 13; I wanted to stick my fingers up his nose, pop his eyes out from the inside and stomp on them like grapes on the floor at the grocery store.

I restrained.

As superstitious as I'm not, I've been holding my breath all week. Waiting for that third. Deaths come in threes, right?

A classmate.

A teacher.



Who? When? Why?

My gym. As of November first. Because the owner and his hot ass have lost all ambition and drive and would rather put his energies into owning a bar.

Sad but true.

My membership lapsed over a month ago, but I had expected to drop in every once and a while.

Apparently not.

One less thing to spend my money on, I suppose.

Ciao, Intensity. It's been real.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Tag Tunes

Plantation tagged me, so I present to you all:

(insert drum roll and fireworks here)

The Five Songs I Am Currently In Love With

"Lately" David Gray Slow Motion
"High" James Blunt Back to Bedlam
"Gold Digger" Kanye West feat. Jamie Foxx Late Registration
"You and Me" Lifehouse Lifehouse
"Fall Baby Fall" Ryan Cabrera You Stand Watching

I'm supposed to tag others, but I need to get my ass to work. How about whoever wants to be tagged is officially tagged by me? I think it's a great idea. Let's do it. No complaints, motherfuckers: I make the rules around here.

Monday, October 24, 2005


The New York Times is my homepage. Excellent, except for sobering moments like this when I learn that Rosa Parks has died and must go to bed with a heavy heart.

It seems that the bigger impact a person has made on society the harder it is to vocalize the enormity of her role.

Rest in peace.

Caloric love

On my mom’s side of the family, love has always been expressed through food. With us, love isn’t always vocalized – it’s a palatable taste. The secret ingredient in the cupcakes Grandma bakes us for Valentine’s Day. In the graham cracker baked for Mom’s birthday. The Christmas pudding. The soup mailed to dorms.

In the hotdogs we served up for Dad’s birthday.

My dad, you see, loves hotdog stands. Whenever we’re in a big city – Chicago, Toronto, New York – and not-so big cities like Ann Arbor – Dad practically sprints to the first hotdog stand he finds. It’s just one of those things. Predictable like the sunrise.

To surprise Dad for his 50th birthday, Mom, Meg and I catered a hotdog stand to serve lunch to Dad, his employees and coworkers. It was a complete surprise. And it was so fun to watch Dad sheepishly take it in, knowing that each and every one of those 250 hotdogs (along with the potato chips and cupcakes on the side) screamed “we love you, Daddy!” He was shocked. It was really fun.

I’ve enjoyed celebrating Dad’s 50th birthday. It’s fun seeing how much he is loved. The first time I realized how many people really care for him was when my Uncle Rich died; I didn’t see that love in such mass quantities again until Grandma died. It’s nice seeing it on a happy occasion. Everyone he works with respects him. And his best friends? They planned a surprise golf outing for his birthday. 15 guys. A Sunday morning. All for Dad.

I hope that, by my 50th birthday, I’ve made friendships and relationships strong enough to warrant a celebration like my dad’s. What he has is awfully special.

Sunday, October 23, 2005

Sunday is funday

I did nothing today. And now I'm watching Girls Next Door on E!

File this under perrrrrrfect day.

Friday, October 21, 2005

Too much sad makes me feel old

I found out this afternoon that my high school history/government teacher - the one teacher who made the biggest impact on who I am and how I see the world - died on Tuesday.

Again. Already.

Is this what growing up is? If so, I think that I would rather not. Thank you, but I'll pass.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

I hope this is vague enough that it won’t get me Dooced

The best part of the day was answering the telephone and asking politely “may I ask whose calling?” before transferring the phone call to its intended recipient.

Because after that, everything went downhill.

Caller says, snidely, “yes, you may.”

And I’m sure that he was irritated that I understood what he was getting at right away and countered with “whose calling, please?” before he could call me out on what is apparently a pet peeve of his.

I truly loved getting bitched out about it later because he is apparently an anal, crazy, intolerant man who is, unfortunately, leaps and bounds more important and more powerful than I will ever be.

Wednesday, October 19, 2005


I need to get renter's insurance because, um, I'm renting. And because I have a lot of shit. ...not that any of my shit is worth any money, but I kind of feel like it's just good karma to get the insurance.


My dad sets me up with the broad who insures all of our cars. He calls her and gives her all of the information and blah, blah, blah. She calls me back with the quote for the renter's insurance. Basically $2 year. I'd be stupid not to get it.

And then she SLAMS me with happy, happy news. I'm not living at home anymore, so I have to be on my own car insurance.

(This never even crossed my mind.)

Which car is yours? I'll call you back with a quote!

Call me back? Don't you mean that you'd kick my ass with a quote?

So. Much. Money.

This makes me very unhappy. And that is why I am blogging about it.

And that is totally allowed because this is my blog and I'll do with it what I see fit!

So there.

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Leaders and best

I think they put something in the water in Ann Arbor.

I am sickly in love with my alma mater. Sickly proud to have graduated from UM. I root for Michigan’s sports with idiotic loyalty. I bask in UM academic successes like I played a crucial role (other than purge $100,000 on tuition) to aid the educational greatness of my alma mater.

It’s demented. Not going to lie about that.

The University is currently in the midst of an intense fundraising campaign to raise the cash to build new hospitals. And the Michigan Difference campaign is running this damn commercial that nearly reduces me to tears every time I see it.

The commercial features all of these people who wouldn’t be alive, wouldn’t be functioning as a normal person, couldn’t be who they are today without UM hospital. And they play it on top of this eerily slow, beautiful version of the Michigan fight song.

It makes me weepy. I see it and curl into the fetal position.

It is inappropriate.

Especially when taking into account the pathetic state of the 2005 football squad.


I'm not sure I can work today. I am exhausted. Sucked of energy. Lifeless, thanks to one tiny little shopping excursion.

After getting my hair cut, I dropped by Annie Sez (the most amazing designer discount store that has ever graced Southwestern Michigan) to look for a new pair of jeans.

Translation: I wanted to subject myself to slow torture.

Shopping for jeans is a little like shopping for bras. Not fun.

I tried on way too many pairs. Mostly Seven jeans, which I've been wanting to try since one of my favorite bloggers raved about the pair she bought this summer.

Wise Readership, please tell me that you've found that the size you wear in Seven jeans is dependant on the style. Because I swear that was the case for me today. I'd find a size that fit well, grab that size in another style and be able to slide that pair on without unzipping them. Huh? What? Why?

But you'll all be happy to know that I found a pair I look hot/feel good in.

Ah. Victory.

Sunday, October 16, 2005

My dad is 50 today

Pappy 50th, Ozzy! We love you and all of the wacked-out shit that you do! We even love the not-so-wacked out shit you do. Like taking hella good care of us.

I hope you have a great day, dude. I also really hope that you don't read this blog.

Saturday, October 15, 2005

Shower scandal

I don’t think I ever got into the gory details, so just trust me when I say that the shower we threw for my cousin Liz was:
a. gorgeous
b. over-the-top
c. a hell of a lot nicer than most weddings
d. huge
e. fucking expensive

My mom and aunts dumped a huge amount of cash (as well as time, energy and love) on the bridal bonanza. If a wedding shower can be off the hook (and the verdict is out on that), Liz’s shower was off the hook.

At the MegaShower, which from now on will be referred to as The Downpour, Liz got a ginormous amount of gifts. A little bit of everything off of her registry. Some random shit that people just bought for her. Trinkets and mementos up the ass. The typical, you know?

My dad’s cousin, Pat, bought Liz a wind chime.

When she got home, she noticed the remnants of a very familiar red clearance sticker.

Definitely from the very big retailer that she works for.

And, as Liz is nosey, oh-so-slightly materialistic and happens to make a living supervising the marking down of clearance items at her place of employment, she really couldn’t help but investigate the investment Pat made on her shower gift.


Moral: if you plan to spend less than $5 on a gift at a shower where the hostesses paid more than $20/head, buy the present at a retail chain other than the one the bride is employed at.

Friday, October 14, 2005


Dear bitches, pimps and hoes,

I finally have cable television and an internet connection at my apartment.

Is is awesome like woah.

Thursday, October 13, 2005

My Stupid Mouth

Why did I blog about how madly in love I am with my job?

Why can't I write about how irritated I am right now?

Grrr. Growl. Moan. Sniffle. Sob.


Wednesday, October 12, 2005

How corporate America kicks my ass

I do not handle feeling stupid very well. This is why I successfully avoided all math and nearly all science classes over the course of my college education. I’m not good at math or science. I don’t have a math brain. I don’t have a science brain. I don’t want to be reminded of the fact that I don’t have a math brain or a science brain. I’ll just avoid the subjects, thankyouverymuch.

This avoidance probably isn’t the best way to approach life. But I’m really good at it, and I will continue to avoid math and sciences in each and every aspect of my life.

Except at work. When, at the end of each month, I have to take math on straightforward. I have to grab it by the balls And make myself look like a complete and utter dumbass in front of our entire finance department.

Oh, it hurts my heart. My head. My stomach. My pinky fingers. And my sanity.

Conclusion: working is hard. Even when you like your job.

Sunday, October 09, 2005

The theme was ice

Today was as perfect as I've seen days in a long, long time.

Sleeping in. Skating exceptionally well. NHL hockey with my sister. Victory for the hometown team. Nachos and a brownie sundae at the Hard Rock Cafe. Being told that we were the two hottest girls in the restaurant. Lincoln LS karaoke. A full belly. A silly little sister.

Knowing that I'm damn lucky.

Saturday, October 08, 2005

Diet of Champions

I've been living in my apartment for three weeks now. Just today, I finished my first jar of peanut butter.

This is is a dramatic shift from my jar-a-week college lifestyle.

Thank God for that.

Friday, October 07, 2005


Nine months ago, I wouldn't have predicted that I would be going out with Heather tonight.

Couldn't guess that we'd play soccer together this spring.

Never would've thought that a high school classmate would've died. Certainly couldn't have imagined walking into the funeral home holding her hand.

People surprise you.

In this case, that's a very good thing.

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

Love via cake

I’ve been loving my job lately.

Doesn’t that just make you want to kick me in the face and call me a stupid job lover? And a weirdo? And a freak?

It’s okay if you do. I think it’s awfully strange, too. I’ve been working a gazillion hours (and, oddly enough, working has not entailed reading in blogs or writing my own – eventually I’ll catch up to what you’re all up to! I swear!) and have been smacked around by every stressful situation and crabby-ass parent that could possibly smack me around.

And still I enjoy it.


I like it because I feel somewhat empowered. They trust me here. They know that I’m good at what I do. It’s silly, maybe, but it’s awfully nice to be appreciated.

My bosses (a husband/wife team – which isn’t as weird/awkward/disastrous as it has the potential to be) are totally fun. My coworkers are an absolute riot.

The best of it all? On Monday morning, one of the girls I work with brought me a birthday cake. Nothing fancy, she said sheepishly. Not a huge, elaborate cake like you’d make, she pointed out. But we wanted you to know that we love you.


How could I not, in turn, be in love with my job?

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

Someone, somewhere

Someone (and that someone is me) didn’t get cable in her apartment today.

Someone (and that someone is me) had to cancel her cable appointment because she was invited (and by invited we actually mean: was required to attend) an endless meeting.

Someone (and that someone is me) will write a real nice, long blog entry tomorrow.

Someone (and that someone is me) promises it.

Sunday, October 02, 2005

When you turn 23

So, I ended up having to work tonight. On my 23rd birthday. Which wasn’t cool or nice or fun or anything. But it had to be done. This morning, I went to another wedding shower for my cousin, and then I came into work.

Mom told me to call and check in with her when I got to work. But I got busy the second that I got here and – oops – I didn’t call.

So they called information to get the number here. The number was incorrect (charming) and it just rang and rang and rang.

Now my mom thinks that I’m dead. Me and the other 200 people in the building, apparently. Because that wouldn't make the news or anything.

Fast forward to 9:00 (I’ve been here three hours). My parents send a family friend TO MY OFFICE TO SEE IF I’M ALIVE.

Nothing says “Happy 23rd birthday!” like that, eh?

Fucking hell.

Saturday, October 01, 2005

The story of how my head nearly exploded today

It started with a phone call at 6:45 am.

And a run out the door, without makeup, without my work clothes on, at 6:47.

And then nobody could show up at the right time.

Or show up at all.

And there was a lot of yelling. Mostly at me.

Then there was The Most Stressful Football Game Ever.

But, in the end, Blue came out on top.

And that negates the rest of the bullshit. It really, honestly does.
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