shhhh. don't tell.

I am wearing a sweatsuit to work today. It's pretty pimp, and looks a lot like sweatsuits worn by old black men that have large hard stomachs. I am pretending like it's work clothes, so that no one need know the truth. While writing this to you, I felt a flash of incredible foreboding, and am now worried about the fact that if I am choosing to sneak around in a sweatsuit at 24 in a relatively new job (and I am), what will my life be like when I have actual stress? Will my style erode further, or is this the ultimate low? Will my teenage daugher be mortified that I want to wear a sweatsuit to work and insist that it is ok because it's, in this case, from Banana Republic, or, as will likely be the case in 20 years, that it's ok because it's Liz Claiborne?
To be honest, this is the most comfortable sweatsuit known to man, and I am completely disinterested in ever taking it off. My bra, on the other hand, is another issue. And the clogs I am wearing are not nearly as comfortable as slippers. And of course, I'd rather be watching Law and Order. And eating Papa John's pizza with pineapple on top.

Merry Christmas from my pretty new iBook!

Hope everyone had a great Christmas/ Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, etc. But not courtesy of Virgin Mobile, because that ad sucks. I myself am curled up in my bed with my pretty pretty machine, listening to this Sufjan Stevens album that seems to have found its way on to just about every top ten list around. On the first couple listens, I definitely wasn't feeling it, but now I am pretty pleased with the first album I have ever chosen to download legally to a computer. There seem to be about 7 good tracks on the album, which would be a solid performance except that the album is nearly 4 times longer than that. But I am a happy girl, and especially happy because, for the first time in my post-16 year old life, I worked neither x-mas eve, nor will I work tomorrow. So that is joy, albeit unpaid.
Happy Christmas.

So, I don't want to be one of those people that goes for more than a week without updating, since those people make my work days a little bit more sad and boring, so I will tell you three things.

• After this Christmas season ends, I will never ever work retail again. I dislike enabling silly consumerist wankers. In other words, I hate helping people buy things, but decided to politicize my statement to make me sound better.
  
• I have been so tired lately I can literally go to sleep at the drop of the hat. At crap job #1, my boss never comes to work before 10, and rarely makes it in before noon, so I have been using the morning to drift in and out of sleep at my desk. I am not proud, and I think the end result is that I am more tired, but it is difficult to occupy my mornings otherwise and like I said, I am really tired.
• Saying this probably makes you wonder why my job is so crappy, if my boss isn't there in the morning and I get to sleep. But let me assure you that it is crappy. Indeed, this week I have been working on astral projection, which, if you don't recall from vaguelly supernatural books you read in the 5th grade, is when your soul leaves your body and goes and does other stuff (usually evil) then comes back. I need to do this so that my soul can vacate my body when she talks to me. It hasn't really worked yet, except I sometimes start shaking when she speaks to me.
  

To velvet coats.

Wow! Someone read my blog today from Stamping Ground, Kentucky. What a great city name. I do hope you come back.
I just saw that Pride and Prejudice movie. Keira Knightly remains unfortunate. Nevertheless, I love Pride and Prejudice, and nothing, not even Keira Knightly's dopey-ass self, will convince me otherwise. Now all I want to do is re-read Jane Austen and fall into a love-coma with Mr. Darcy and all the disagreable men in her novels. Bill kept falling asleep during the movie and he never likes to dance at parties, which is of course disagreable, but not in such a charming way because he has no fortune. He is exceptionally cranky, which is helpful, but never ever wears brocade jackets, which is not. Sometimes I think I missed my calling as a goth... but then, I never find eyeliner charming, only velvet coats. Actually I think everyone should have velvet coats. Were I officially anything other than burnt-out, I would decree it.

Must I recant?

So Kansas City is officially snow-drenched. We finally got the big snowstorm promised weeks ago. 8 inches and still going.
Fantastic, except that most of it happened while I was at work. So the drive home was fairly terrifying. My cute and fuel-efficient little car does not enjoy snow. My drive home from work took an hour and a half, as opposed to the usual 25 minutes. Mostly, I just drove very very slowly on unplowed roads along with about 50 million other people. Until disaster struck and I, along with about 10 million other people, were unable to get ourselves up a little hill.
Fortunately, we were rescued by a kindly Hummer and F250 truck. These two kind souls were driving back and forth, towing the smaller and more efficient vehicles up the little hill. My saviour didn't even say anything to me, just hitched me up and dragged me half a block, making my 1.5 hour journey a little more pleasant. So I guess I owe the massive car crowd one. Thus, I have decided I must recant roughly 20% of the bad things I have said about their owners.
The other issue I am wrestling with is whether or not I should go to crapjob #1 tomorrow... my boss told me it was optional. However, the option is get paid or don't get paid. If I do go, my boss will likely not come in, which makes the day a lot more fun than usual, but I will have to drive there, which will likely not be pleasant. If I don't go, I will stay at home... with the 3 teenage boys on snow day tomorrow.
Of course, at the moment, the snow is higher in my driveway than the doors of my car, so that may solve the dilemma for me. Either way, I am sure you will be hearing from me tomorrow.

grr grr grr

So my boyfriend is the funniest, and my friend Kitie is a sex offender. What would Elliot and Olivia say!
I myself am just cranky and curmudgeonly as my crazy-ass monsterboss is insisting I do unneccessary things while wasting resources. It would be one thing if this involved doing something I like, like smoking or driving in circles, but it doesn't, so I am annoyed.
Also, the National Weather Service reports that it will never stop snowing in Kansas City. I think I also heard them say that I should have called in sick from work today and watched the Sopranos countdown.

on my own again

So, friends, readers, etc, today I am at work alone. I will tell you about several things that have been on my mind.
1. My mother sexiled me this weekend. From my house. Awesome.
2. I will use my at work alone time to write Christmas cards. If you feel that you are deserving, tell me, and I will put one of my lovely holiday cards in the mail for you.
3. I watch a lot of tv, having little to do with my time, and I have to say, the eharmony.com commercials I find strangely compelling. I am very happy with my boyfriend, despite his pillow and couch hogging behaviors, but I am nevertheless tempted by these soul-mate promises, despite my convictions that such things don't exist. Everytime I see the ads, I want to hop online to see who they match up for me. Would eHarmony recognize that I could never date a Quentin Tarantino or Seinfeld fanatic? Would they set me up with someone who believes it acceptable to mix premium whiskeys or requests their Thai food served bland? Or would they set me up with someone who can be civil before his morning coffee and breaks an acceptable distance before stop lights.
But of course, I couldn't put these preferences in my profile, because then I'd immediately be written off as judgemental, which of course I am, but I like to think my cattiness does not lack charm.
In London, I tried to shop for friends on friendster, but was unable to find a single one acceptable, as I eliminated everyone with:
1. all foreign films listed as their favorite movies (a few, or even a majority, are acceptable, but all? come on.
2. more than 150 friendster friends. I will not be a notch on someone's belt.
3. a movie favorite list of 'pop' indie movies. garden state, napoleon dynamite, quentin tarantino, kevin smith, and wes anderson ditties. I like many movies by these directors, but try to enjoy at least a movie or two outside of your target demographic. My Fellow Americans, for instance, is hysterical.
4. same goes for michael moore movies or books. he is the converse of counterculture. smells like teen spirit, but swooshes like nike.
5. a music list of a bunch of pop music followed by 'mozart' or some other classical superstar. you expect me to believe that your ipod playlist is equal parts the ramones, the killers, belle and sebastian, wilco, the magnetic fields, and beethoven? give me a break. i'm sure you enjoy mozart, but leave him off the top ten list unless you are as likely to bust out the mozart cd as you are the yeah yeah yeahs. that said, your favorite music list should not read like the cmj charts.
6. your favorite book list must include fiction, and must feature a writer off the top ten list of contemporary literature for the 20 something crowd list. it's acceptable to like that chuck fightclub guy, or david foster wallace or nick hornby, or any number of tragically hip writers, but you must demonstrate a willingness to delve off the literary fluff shelf. Get down and get dirty with the classics or maybe something not published by the major league, media conglomerate publishing house.
Of course, many of my dearest friends commit these sins. Indeed, I myself justify my classical additions to my friendster profile only by telling myself that while I am far more likely to listen to pop music in my car than classical, I am in fact more likely to attend a classical music concert than I am a pop one. And this is only due to the fact that not much in the way comes to Kansas City, except the larger pop acts, and I am rarely willing to pay that much whereas you can almost always get into a classical performance for under a tenner.
So, what totally arbitrary things do you judge future friends and partners on? and do you want a christmas card?

an amusing story that I will relate in a dull way

So, Tuesday was supposed to be my last day at crap job with monsterboss, as the new victim started on Monday. So, Monday, this itty bitty girl who is my age shows up. She is nice, but has a fairly limited command of the English language, especially for a college grad. I tell you, I bet she didn't even know the word 'fuck.' This girl had at least two of the three characteristics that I find despicable--excessively long hair and nails. I'm sure she doesn't like spicy food either, but that isn't confirmed. Anyway, a lot of the stupid things she said specifically related to Kansas City, which would not amuse most of my readership as most of you are unfamiliar with the area. Needless to say, she grew up and went to college in the northern suburbs, and had pretty much never been downtown or to midtown, where we work. When I asked her about this, she mentioned visiting Kaleidescope, the Hallmark-sponsored children's museum, in grade school... And then monsterboss offered to take her to the Jerusalem Cafe to lunch, to which newgirl said "oh, i had indian food once..." Also she was a psychology major and hadn't heard of autism... (my job is in the health care/special needs field).
In any case, Tuesday I was supposed to come in for a couple hours to make sure she was doing ok on her own. But when I got there, I found that she had, in fact, quit. This is not that weird as monsterboss is truly heinous. But she didn't even have the opportunity to see that, she just thought it would be.. too stressful. So, I am back at crap job until I/them find something/one better.

2 very good things

1. Shopgirl. Bill and I saw it tonight. Utterly charming.
2. Julie, Bill and I found digs today. We move in sometime after Christmas/around Julie's birthday (Jan 1). There is a gym and tennis courts and other cool stuff. Also it is right by the mexican price chopper, so that means horchata any time of day or night! We have no guest bedroom, having no money, but the closet space is exceptional! Come visit!

At work alone

So, here I am, at work by myself with nothing to do. I've read a book (The Human Stain by Phillip Roth--I do not understand why he is so loved), bounced a ball all around the office, checked my email every 4 or 5 minutes, and colored post-its with high-lighters then immediately recycled them. I also drew you pictures of my time-wasting, as I respond well to positive reinforcement. I should do some stuff, like preparing my work crap for my monsterboss's new victim who starts on Monday, which is, fantastically, my last day.
So, here I read.

My observant readers might note that my hair is a different color than Monday's images. That is not true. My hair remains the same color; what you are noticing is the different color in my drawings. There are a number of reasons for that: I 'customize' my hair color but never save the color, I am not sure what my hair color is anyway, and sometimes I think it is important to embrace my impending brownheadedness, while other times I think it would be fun to be a real blonde. Now, let's chase a ball.

Oh, the troubles

Yesterday, I drove around most all of the Kansas City suburbs taking pictures of houses for sale for my friend Jessica, who is the photographer for a real estate magazine. Due to scheduling conflicts, she asked me to help out. Now, this was fairly exciting as I got to use Jess's fancy schmancy digital camera, yet also a bit stressful because I believe that Jessica may very well love her camera more than me. So I had to be very careful. My caution led to disaster striking. For the first time in my entire life, I locked my keys in the car. I have illustrated this for you.

Mind you, I was in the middle of nowhere (Lee's Summit, MO to be exact) and had literally no one to call. Mom was in Topeka, boyfriend in Nashville, Jessica at work... other friends out of town... Besides that, my phone was in the car and one doesn't memorize phone numbers anymore.
So, I see some people in their yard and ask them for help. A guy with a mullet and a USA leather bomber jacket gets a wire hanger and goes for it. I have illustrated this as well.

Unfortunately, he didn't succeed and I had to pay some other guy with a mullet $45 to do it. And if anyone tells me that the police unlock cars for free, I don't want to hear it.

Kirstie Alley Can Eat a Dick

I know that I am committing a blogging faux pas by updating right after I just questioned you, but please read down and help me on my computer queries. I really had to update about the atrocity I just witnessed.
Seriously, I just watched the first episode of Fat Actress and I don't think I have ever seen something so stupid and offensive. The episode begins with Kirstie lying on the bathroom floor, weeping after weighing herself. This goes on for literally several minutes. Then, of course, she gets up and gets herself a double burger and fries at a fast food joint. In her robe. Of course! Because it's funny, right, a fat lady eating a hamburger in her pjs. But obviously not funny enough, because she loses her french fries and thinks they weren't served to her, so she yells out the window that it's america and they need to learn to speak English. Hysterical, right? But that's not all the race fun the show has in store, because later, she and her assistants decide she needs to black men as they prefer the larger ladies. So what do they do! Go to a soul food restaurant of course! May as well kill two birds with one stone! Get her fed and get her fucked! But even more knee-slapping is when her assistant refers to the restaurant as a 'black market.' I remember those... American History 1660-1865 right?
And then there is the really awesome scene where Kirstie Alley goes on an interview all dolled up, and everyone just stares and stares at her. The office virtually shuts down so everyone can get a glimpse of her ass. Which is understandable, as you know, the size 16 Kirstie Alley is 2 whole sizes larger than the national average, so it's really unlikely anyone in the building had in fact seen someone so large.
But the episode reaches its zenith when Kirstie tries to make herself puke with a peacock feather but ends up deciding to finish her cookie. How can she hate herself so much she would be willing to degrade herself in such a way? Although I suppose one could ask the same question of the Look Who's Talking franchise...
Honestly, where were the calls to boycott this piece of crap?

Oh, brother...

So, the time has come to make a new computer purchase. My current laptop, bought refurbished over 5 years ago, is in serious need of retirement.
But I don't know what I need. I am seduced by the flash of Apple, but am not sure the price jump is necessary, as my current needs consist of internet and word processing. I definitely want a laptop with wireless capabilities.
However, sooner or later I will make the leap to digital photography. When I do so, I will want an SLR camera compatible with my Canon EOS Elan IIe. So we are talking at least a 1K camera. So, should I purchase the significantly more expensive computer bargaining on the fact that I will eventually make the digital commitment? Or should I wait it out? I will not likely get a digital camera body for at least a year.
And, if I am planning on the most mundane of personal uses, why would I buy an Apple?
I feel extraordinarily conflicted about this. I think I would rather buy a car than a computer.
So will someone please solve all my problems and tell me what I need? And how much I should spend on it and where I can find a deal?

Sweet Potatoes!

It is sweet potato season and for this I am excited.
The Rachel's are playing in Kansas City tonight and I am going and for this too, I am excited. I love the rachel's. At least, I hope I am going because I refuse to pay ticketmaster's extortionate price. An extra $7.40 on a $10 ticket? There is no way in hell. I love the rachel's $17.40 but a girl has to has principles.
Speaking of, I am playing phone tag with a lady from Unity Church where I applied for a copywriting job. I assume she wants to interview me.
I debated long and hard about applying for a position with a religious institution to which I do not belong. I researched the church, I discovered that they ordain both women and gays as ministers, one of my main criteria. Indeed, www.godhatesfags.com considers Unity Church to be exceptionally fag-loving. The job also pays quite well and has excellent benefits. So I decided to apply. That said, Unity Church does seem a little weird on the website. But, a Unity church here always has good readings. So does anyone have any insight on this? Work for a church? Even a liberal church?

So today

I finally got around to watching Garden State. It was, as previously predicted some months ago, awful, however not as awful as I thought. It was somewhat redeemed by Natalie Portman's character, who was far more genuine than the ladies typically featured in such movies. However, Zach Braff should stick to Scrubs, which is more or less amusing more or less of the time.
I have finished watching the 2nd season of the L-Word, and I reiterate my assertion that it totally rocks. Rent it today.

I wish I could update again but I have to watch the L-Word until I've seen all of season 2. Probably you'll hear from me again at the beginning of next week.

Fuck Desperate Housewives, The L-Word is the new Sex and the City

Yeah, you hear that, Teri Hatcher? You, and your twiggy big-headed bitches, suck. Despite being 4 women in their 30s, you don't even come close to the supreme excellence of sex and the city or the l-word. Your fashion sense is unremarkable, the dialogue is beyond trite, and the endless plot twists tedious.
As devastated as I was when Sex and the City went off the air, The L-Word is nurturing my recovery. Sure, the majority of the characters are lesbians, and I am not, but their hairstyles are downright inspirational. Not to mention the fascinating characters and plottings.
While being a housewife is cool and I'll fight for your right to whatever, it's a hell of a lot more interesting to watch a show where the characters actually have careers. Admirable ones. Museum director, journalist, tennis player, hair stylist, and yes, a housewife.
Seriously, if I see another magazine with Teri Hatcher's gigantic head on her skeletal frame again, I will puke. The only character on Desperate Housewives that is remotely interesting is Lynette, who, surprise, has a job. Yet even the L-Word manages to make their jobless character, Tina, among the most interesting.
That said, the L-Word has some flaws, like the sexually confused writer Jenny who is painfully self-conscious without being self-aware, but I suspect I only find her excrutiating because I'm pretty sure we roomed together once in college.
In conclusion, if someone references Desperate Housewives as the new Sex and the City, I will skin them alive and turn them into a pair of round-toe, knee-high boots and a pair of sling backs. What these fools neglect to note when make their comparisons is that Sex and the City was a feminist show, and Desperate Housewives is certainly not a replacement for that. Carrie and the girls had real issues, real weight gain, and real relationships. Desperate Housewives has horrible mothers (except Lynette, who is actually cool) and ridiculously low-cut jeans on women with no ass. The L-Word, while featuring women a damn sight more attractive than most of the lesbians I have encountered, at least demonstrates ambition and characters a girl can look up to. Which is all I'm asking.

Nightmares

Last night I had a dream in which someone told me I was 24 and I broke down crying. Even sadder is the fact that I am 24.
Even sadder than that is that a spider saw fit to get a little fresh and bit me on the second baseline.

I am good in every way

So, Friday I attended my first 'first fridays' something the crossroads district of art galleries in Kansas City puts on, on, you guessed it, the first Friday of the month. So, my KC Crew and I headed down to look at some contemporary art, most of which, you guessed it, sucked. However, I probably liked about 15% of the work I saw, which isn't a bad percentage. It was exciting to see the Kansas City downtown try to act like a big city. The highlights of the evening included giant white punching bag-esque sculptures that vibrated like heart beats and you hugged them. I do enjoy interactive art. We followed this up with nachos and margaritas at one of Kansas City's most famous Mexican establishments.
And yesterday, Bill and I attended the opera-- we saw Benjamin Britton's Turn of the Screw, which is... unusual. Some amazing voices, but dissonance in opera is not my favorite. Really, I attend the opera for the big arias that make my heart soar and all that, not goofy chord structures that make my heart sour. Nevertheless, it was fun, and I wore cowboy boots, which made me feel like a bit of a rockstar.
And today I played tennis! Which I haven't played since we covered all the sports in ninth grade gym. So I think everyone would agree that I am well on my way to joining the cultural elite, yeah?

I aim to please

That's why I'm updating my blog now even though I am tired and full of nothing interesting. However, yesterday I wore a skirt and tights and suffered dearly at the hands of static cling, which, as it turns out, is bad for my self-esteem. All day yesterday I looked like I was wearing culottes, which, as we all know, are not cool at all. Then I thought to myself, no, I look like I am wearing those gaucho pants or whatever. Then I thought, gaucho, isn't that like gauche? Then I thought about how no one seemed to wear those pants in Europe except that one honeymooning (American) couple Bill and I went on a tour with in Munich. Then I thought about how the bride, in gaucho pants, looked a lot like a girl I went to elementary school with, whose full name I am tempted to enter but fear she may one day google herself. In any case, I will share it in a tricky fashion: Phe0be Haz3lw00d Har1an. When I met her in the first grade, I told my parents about my new best friend, Poeheebee. In any case, she is totally the sort who would wear gaucho pants, if she has remained the same sort of person she was in the 6th grade which is probably the last time I spoke with her. That said, I am not comfortable ruling out gaucho pants for myself. After all, I do like skirts in that length, as well as other sorts of calf- grazing attire. So maybe I will pick up a pair of those gauche pants that are filling clearance racks across Kansas City. I'm a crazy girl, I'll try anything once.