Confession

I have never read Animal Farm. I am repenting for that right now.

Also, my boyfriend thinks he is better than I am at finding things on the internet. Because he's never pitted his skills against mine. (Trust me; I don't think he even knew what IMDb WAS until I came into his life; he cannot possibly be able to navigate the internet better than a seasoned pro such as myself.) (That parenthetical has THREE semi-colons. Too bad that won't fix the economy, but still, I'm pretty proud that I pulled that off, and I think it also breaks some fairly major grammatical rules.) Here is my proof: I have spent the last several evenings feverishly searching for a red bedsread. Comforter. Duvet cover. I don't care what you call it, I just mean that thing that goes on top of your bed and looks nice and keeps you warm at night. Bed-thingy. There we go. Anyway, I have this exact shade of red in mind to complete the look of Chris's new bedroom, since I am in charge of decorating his condo. Well, I had no idea how few red bed-thingies were in production until I actually tried looking for one. Maybe I'm just ahead of the curve? I have a vision of three years from now, when the textile markets are filled with luxuriously red bed-thingies, three years too late to save me from a nervous breakdown.

So I go over to Chris's, and his best friend Karl is there, and I am telling them of my woes, and they are only 1/8th listening, because they are playing Playstation, which is just fine, because I didn't really need them to listen anyway. But enough penetrates Chris's brain for him to turn to me (once he's been shot by another player, and therefore has the time) and say something like, "I bet if I put 'red bedspread' into Google, it would turn up plenty of results."

Ohhh, if ONLY I had thought to use Google! Thank you big, strong, smart boy, I am so glad you came along and fixed my world and picked me up out of the dark, dirty chasm that had been my life. Wait, no.

The only suitable reply was, "Oh, if oooonly your dumb girlfriend had thought of that!" with an extra helping of sarcasm to seal the deal.

So now I will find that bed-thingy if it kills me (if it KILLS me!), and I wish you all the best, please come pay your respects at my funeral, and make sure they're playing appropriately awesome music.



(He apologized, by the way. I don't want anyone out there thinking I'm dating a jerk. He apologized and probably poked me for good measure.)

Because I Find Lists To Be The Easiest Way Of Letting You Know What I'm Up To

Hello, Internet! Hi. You can't see it, but I'm doing one of those low, self-conscious waves at you that little kids do while they're coiled tightly around Mom's leg. Because, Internet, I feel like we are strangers, but possibly you have candy to give me, so I'm willing to give it a shot. Do you like the analogy? I like the analogy. Also, I spent my day with two-year-olds, so it came readily to mind.

Here are some things I have been up to:

1. I got a Wii. It is fantastic, and I have been playing Mario Kart like a mad woman, and my plan was to assemble all of my friends, and we would play Wii, and it would be fantastic. And then they all went out and got their own Wiis. I almost had real-life friends, though. Almost.

2. Watching all those movies people just ASSUME I've seen, because everyone has seen them, but I haven't. I don't know what I was up to while everyone else was out watching Forrest Gump - that's right, haven't seen it.

3. Compiling Christmas Gift Lists. So many people these days have so little, and I am blessed enough to have more than I need. I am doing my own, small part to stimulate the economy, and presents are involved, too, hoorah! You don't know how I agonize over gift-giving, either.

4. Fiercely combating with entropy. Do you know how difficult it is to keep a room clean, when it's not YOUR room, and the room's occupant keeps bringing dirty dishes into it and saves every last receipt he has ever gotten, ever? I started with a hamper, a bill folder, and some organizational drawers. It will end in bloodshed, I have no doubt. Bloodshed, or scented candles.

5. Buying laptops for people. Everyone wants a laptop, and no one knows what sort will be a good fit for them. So I get to show off my skills and sniff out the best deals, and for some reason people think I am using my own special brand of magic, instead of Google and a little splash of patience. Here's my advice, people: Type in "good deals on laptops," and have at it! Or just "good deal laptop." "Good laptop deal." "Deal laptop good"? Turn it into a game. Play with the kids!

6. Using illegal quantities of lotion. I cannot stand dry skin. Winter time, I am looking at you.

7. Bathing a large, unappreciative, very furry cat. At one point, he tried to escape from the tub, and of course it was when he was covered in soap. I suddenly had a vision of this soaking-wet, twenty-pound, slimy gargantuan cat streaking loose through the house. You should try it some time.

8. Hunting down Count Chocula cereal. I used to buy it about twice a year for friends and/or church activities, and it was always easy to find, back then. Then came a day when I wanted some for myself, and lo and behold, it became the rarest and most impossible thing to find. I moved back to Maryland, which had plenty of grocery stores, and I thought my luck would improve, but alas, it did not. Now if a store sells it, I buy two boxes. Also, because I am an adult, I can eat it any time I want. Sometimes I'm lying around, enjoying a bowl, then I go grab a slice of cheesecake to complete my dinner, and I think to myself, "Holy cow, it is cool being a grown-up. Rent is not cool. But the food selections more than make up for it."

9. Not doing laundry. Worrying about it takes up a lot of time. Trust me on this one.

10. Missing you. Seriously.

To All My Homegirls Out There

I hope she doesn't kill me for posting this.


Now, girls aren't getting off easy, here. As often as boys can be idiots, girls are scheming jerks. But in my broad experience there have been many, many boys who've blown it big time, and it just sort of leaves me with my head cocked to one side going, "Really? That was your choice? Because...seriously?" And then I shrug my shoulders and go find something better to do with my time.

While the guy I want is wasting his time with a crazy/stupid/wimpy girl. But his punishment is that he has to spend time with her, so karma takes care of everything for me.

The moral of this story is, call when you say you'll call, we really do want to hear from you. And if we miss your call then call you back, don't passively-aggressively punish us by not answering your phone. We know you're busy, and we're willing to give you yards and yards of the benefit of the doubt, but eventually we have to decide if you're legit or just a tool, and there are terribly few capable, smart, cool girls out there - and we all know each other, and trust us, we talk - so don't ruin your chances. Or else start looking forward to a lifetime of watching 27 Dresses with Brindee and watching her spend all your money on throw pillows and pedicures.

And in exchange, we'll try really hard to have rational explanations for our feelings, and to express them to you in clear-cut, up-front, honest ways. We won't make you pry them out of us to show us how much you REALLY CARE, we won't throw things at your head when we're frustrated (except when you deserve it, and you know sometimes you do), we won't pitch screaming fits about how you never really cared about us. We know, we have issues. Try processing seven different emotions a second. Go ahead, try. Were you successful? Now picture doing that all day every day FOR THE REST OF FOREVER. It's exhausting. And we're usually too busy to take a nap. So cut us some slack and learn to work with us.

We could really work out something pretty fantastic.

A Lake Story

So yesterday Jason and I planned to escape to a lake in PA and enjoy the heck out of it. We pulled up to what looked like some information center, and when I got out of the car I spied a fenced-in enclosure with some sort of animal inside. I couldn't quite tell what it was, so of course it was all I could think and/or talk about. Once we got inside, we were told that basically we had to be campers/lodgers to enjoy the lake, so we scrawled a big, fat "Screw you!" on the walls (metaphorically; we have great and deep respect for personal property) and left.

We stopped in the general store to buy supplies (some water, pop rocks, and something called a "Charleston Chew," which frightened me greatly) and Jason asked the cashier lady for something awesome to do while I walked around and pretended like I had no idea what was going on. I cannot ask questions like that. I will not ask you for directions. I will not go into your Blockbuster store and ask you to help me locate a movie. I will walk around that store for twenty-seven minutes looking for what I came in there for, and I will never once ask you for help. It is a side to my personal independence that could really stand to be worn down some, but I'll worry about that later. Like when it's a life & death situation.

So anyway, we left, and went to go check out the mysterious animal, and realized it was a goat. (What are those animals there, the ones that look like half cow, half dog?) (That is an inside joke. That is HILARIOUS to me.) And there were more! And they had a playhouse in the trees! Yay, goats. It's going to be a good day when goats are involved.

So we went to a State Park instead, with a creek and a waterfall and a...jiggly bridge thing...and hiking and crawfish and no sunburn, hooray!

And then the day ended at Baja Fresh where I wolfed down a burrito the size of my head that was stuffed with chicken and grilled vegetables and - I don't know, fricking SOUR CREAM, who can say no to sour cream.

Now I'm typing this and listening to the rain outside my open window, tabbing back and forth between this window and looking at pictures of Dallan's escapades in China. I'm not sure what could make this a better weekend.

I Will Shout That If/When I Am Ever Arrested, As Well

Here is why I hate Facebook Chat: People keep signed off just as I send them super witty retorts based on their status messages. How cruel and unusual is that?

Also, it keeps telling me that people I'm chatting with are offline, when I know they are not. We'll be in the middle of a conversation, and they'll blip offline for a few seconds or a minute.

Both ways in which Facebook is sadly attempting to undermine my wit. It won't work, Facebook. I shall win this war.

They may take our lives, but they will never take our freeeeeedoooooooom!

Sleeping Habits

I need about three naps to get me through my day. Why is this, what is wrong with me, and what can I do to fix it?

I sleep about 7 hours a night, at fairly consistent times. I fall asleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow. The last thing I'm usually thinking is, Oh, doesn't it feel so nice with my head on the pillow like th- , and I'm out until my body wakes me up at the trained hour.

I dream a lot, and it's always about real life. I sort through stuff in my dreams, process all the emotions I don't have time to feel when I'm awake (I'm pretty busy, and I'm always feeling something or other, so a lot of things just fall by the wayside. Plus, my mantra is "repress, repress, repress," which is entirely healthy, shut up.) Sometimes, and maybe it's more than I realize, the dreams exhaust me. My brain is more alert on waking up, but I'm still, somewhere, tired. Turns out the brain is a little complicated, huh.

I exercise regularly, I try to eat healthily, plenty of vitamins and vegetables. I usually don't even touch caffeine, which makes 2 - 4 p.m. at work soooo hard, but I feel better about myself in the long run.

Maybe the answer is that I'm a wuss. Probably. In fact, I established that a long time ago when Wallace and Gromit: Curse of the Were Rabbit proved a little too intense for me.

Or maybe it's just that starting at 6 a.m. a giant mutant cat jumps on my bed and starts pawing at my face for me to wake up and, I don't know, feed him, or clean up his barf, or pet him, or just be awake to witness all his cat antics. Cantics. Whatever it is, he's more pushy than any boy I've ever known, including the one who spent the night outside my bedroom door. But he's also way more soft, so bonus.

Anyway, I need to go take a nap now.

Avoidance, But Not Quite

I just checked my e-mail to find a picture of me kneeboarding wearing, I kid you not, pearl earrings. Only me. I rock so hard accidentally. Also, my dad sent the picture to me, and in the message body he wrote, "I hope it's not too big." I didn't even need to open the picture to know what I would find, because I have known the man for 23-odd years. I had to scroll and scroll and scroll and scroll even to find my body, the file was HUGE. Which I like, don't get me wrong; it's just weird to play Where's Waldo with a picture of you instead of an animated stripey shirt guy in a book from the children's section of the library.

All this is to avoid talking about how I found out this morning that a friend of mine died last night. I got the message, and I didn't believe it at first. Even now, I think that maybe it's a joke, as sick as that would be. This kid was amazing - at 22 he graduated from a top-20 law school, and he always had time to come over and play video games. He even put up with my foolishness and participated in the only two mini marshmallow roasts this world has ever or will ever see. You were a good kid, James Bodell. I kind of just assumed you'd keep on shining in this world forever. Shine in the next, my friend. Shine in the next.

As I Write This, Two Girls Are Slip N Sliding Right Outside My Window

Jared came into town on Saturday, and I think it was at some point while I was folded into one of the audience chairs at the band shell, clutching a black-eyed susan I'd stolen from the grounds while he played Brand New on his guitar that this huge sigh of happiness escaped from me. It was a perfect night, just the right temperature between hot and cold, the air was moving but not breezy, and the humidity wasn't all that intense. And we'd just spent the evening at Harper's Ferry, which is my favorite place on this entire planet. We talked physics and sound engineering while swinging in the park. That's pretty much what it takes to be friends with me; I love knowing I'm surrounded with interesting people who are always willing to teach me things and to run the wild, dizzying race of speculation.

The next day I was at my desk in the afternoon, getting some things done and talking to some people online, when I noticed I could hear the rain outside, and it was LOUD. I opened the window and watched it pour. Pour, as in, I don't know if I've ever seen it rain so hard and so consistently. There was no fitfulness in this rain, it was not one of those big gushes that steadies out in a few minutes. This was just RAIN. So of course I had to go out to play in it. I ran around to the swingset behind my house and pumped my legs and watched the water droplets fly off of them into the bushes. I don't know how to describe the rush of that feeling, but it was pretty much pure happy. Too bad getting drenched left me freezing, so I rushed inside to go take a long, hot shower, and then I snuggled down with a book.

Today I went to the Sprint store, because my phone is broken. Very broken. Throwing it against the windowsill didn't even fix it broken. But I was charming and patient, and they're rush-ordering a new phone for me to come pick up tomorrow for FREE. I like free things. I especially like that it was going to take four or five business days, but when I told the guy, "Wow, really? That's great! I was expecting to have to wait two weeks!" and I thanked him so much, he was like, "You know what? Thanks for being understanding. I'm going to go ahead and put a rush on this, we should have it sometime tomorrow." And then as I was leaving, he offered me a job. THAT's when you know you've been a good customer, the sales rep is like, Not only did I enjoy seeing you today, but you were so cool I want to see you every day. And I want to give you money!

I was so pleased with the way things turned out, that I decided to get my hair cut at long last, and now it has movement and shine and not bugging the crap out of me by hanging on my neck. Ness.

And now I'm off to go wakeboarding, hooray!

Puke And Pancakes - It Really Is All About The Alliteration

Today I scrubbed up cat puke from the carpet while (while!) somehow managing to make myself a delicious breakfast of hot pancakes. Check out them skills.

And it only leads me to wonder, How am I not married yet? I am the oldest single Mormon in existence. (True fact!) How did a massive conclave of notoriously commitment-happy Mormon boys not scoop me up into their prayerful, obedient clutches?

Then I remembered - I ran screaming from their clutches and into the hermit cave known as Intellect.

But still, I'd make a great candidate for Mom, since I'm pretty sure all you do is clean up puke and fry up dozens and thousands of pancakes. At least by the way they tell things.

Revisionist history starts in the home.

Oh, And I Learned Where Bhutan Is. And What It Is, Too.

I spent my fourth of July getting rained on, sleeping in corners with all my worldly possessions piled about me, running barefoot through the questionable sidewalks of D.C., sampling a petunia and hoping they're not one of those toxic plants while at the same time thinking it would be kinda cool, wishing for more dinosaur-related gore at the IMAX, eating a festively-blue rice krispie treat that was as large as my head (with help) that dyed everything in its wake a brilliant unmistakable shade, sleeping on the Metro, and watching the fireworks obscured by a dense smoke cloud.

Vive Le Quatre Juillet!