The prophecy comes forth

Once every ten years or so, the Tsembaga men and women collectively decide to alter the livelihood of their village by holding a mass slaughter of 3/4 of the villages pigs. Tsembaga love their pigs when they are living, allowing them to roam through their village gardens, houses, and fields. They grow to the size of a small adult and the sheer size and number of pigs become a burden to everyone in the small village of upwards of 200 natives. The pig slaughter consists of killing sometimes up to 125 pigs, giving the villagers almost one pig per person for enjoying.
The Tsembaga keep about 2500 pounds of pork and fat for themselves, or 12 pounds for each man, woman, and child, a quantity which they consumed in five consecutive days of unrestrained gluttony.

Unrestrained gluttony. A term to which I can relate.

As a tribute to friends in distant lands, namely Drock "new years baby" Degraff and Spew "I'm a TV Star" Vawdrey, Virginia had its first annual Gluttonfest.

Friends came and partook in our lavish spread of turkey, cranberry, potatoes, cheese, bread, hummus, stuffing, yams, and delectable desserts. People coming back for seconds, thirds, and sometimes fourths.
Unrestrained Gluttony.




We had a decent showing of friends and family.
I explained to everyone the legacy in which they were participating. They didn't realize what a landmark event they were attending. So we all sat in a group and had a picture taken of the occasion, that I'm sure will be appearing in future archives and history books.

Our King of Virginia Gluttonfest, Neil, made the important turky contribution. Together, we carved the turkey. Funny because neither of us actually eat meat. But our hands were all over that bird like ruben stoddard on a crisco can.

People amazingly donated their time to bake us delicious desserts like gooey choco chip cookies, raspberry dark chocolate brownies, store bought pumpkin pie, and dessert breads. They were enoyed by all.

After we were all requistely stuffed full of food and wrought with gluttony, we made attempts to play games where we all sat around in circles and kissed the person on our left and bit the person on our right. It was my favorite part of gluttonfest because of faces like this one

And situations like this

And here are the proud founders of Gluttonfest 2006, Virginia. They are so cute I could eat them, too.


HAPPY GLUTTONFEST!!!
Now on to more gluttony on thursday...this time laced with a hint of gratitude.

Tired is as tired does. And me is for scary mornings.

I stayed up until 6 AM last night, talking--no, make that Listening to boys droning on and on and on about things like computers, building decks, stereos, girls doing them wrong, business plans going awry, etc., etc., etc. I didn't have a car and I couldn't escape. I was stuck in a perpetual living room of boredom. Then I tried to do things to liven up the party. Like first we analyzed each others handwriting, and laughed at each others lack of ambidextriousity. Then I drew pictures of horses with birds. My horse looked like a dog with a really shiny conditioned wig.
After that I tried my hand at talking about eggs and fertilization. Thats when I decided to start lying because I was so bored. So I told them I don't eat eggs and we all got in a big argument. I cracked an egg into a bowl and we analyzed it. That was fun for awhile.
Then I just went back to being bored and sitting on the couch. I played with a cat for awhile, but that got old, too.
We gossiped a bit about people we collectively know.
And that was it.
I spent 5 HOURS sitting on the perpetual couch of loserville, and finally I asked one of the boys to pretty please take me home.

Now today I am sick. And I have been scowling all morning at my Dad, even though he was so nice to take me to a vegetarian restaurant last night. That was so nice of him to do because he loves steak and hamburgers, sometimes more than his children I think. So we went to a movie and I bought him a hot dog. Good thing I invested in the hot dog so I could commence with my scowling this morning. Scowl, scowl, scowl.

Now its grocery store to get ready for Gluttonfest 2006 that I don't even want to have because nobody there will be named spew or jon or heathbar or drock or eat olives off of their fingertips or eat pizzas shaped like the mayflower. Hmph.

Just when I thought things were back to normal...

GOP Chooses Phallic Minority Leader

Now is the time to vote republican. Let's do.

Success!!!

So all week I have been busting my arse to try and find a job. I have been busting my arse trying to work out tons. I am tired, getting sick, and sick and tired.

But its all paying off. I have yet, another job interview, a possible job lead on Tuesday AND my pants are looser!!

Now if I could just find some cure-all wheatgrass juice in Manassas.

Flash flood warning! On your cheekbones!

Crash! Boom! Ker-pow!

Are these:
A) sounds of a good old fashioned thunderstorm?
B) background noises in a classic football movie?
-or-
C) All of the above

In case you are slower than most kids in your age group, if there is an option for "C, all of the above", it is usually C. Especially on my blog.
So, yes! We Virginians are in the midst of a tornado and flash flood warning storm! I forgot how immensly I enjoy thunderstorms, especially on a lazy Thursday unemployed afternoon. And especially as the background noise for the always enjoyable viewing of Rudy.
I was lucky enough to channel surf my way into the heart of darkness this morning, in form of RUDY! RUDY! RUDY! I don't think I have ever watched this movie all the way through, so I wanted to give it the old college try this morning. I have to admit, Rudy is a good movie. It is a true testament to achieving success through hard work and determination. That kind of story always tugs on my heartstrings and today was no different. At the end of the movie when he makes that career defining QB tackle and everyone carries him off of the field, I had to put down my spoonful of peanut butter, and wimper softly into the sleeve of my shirt. Whats the deal with me crying at every movie and TV show lately? I mean the other day I actually cried during a Gilmore Girls episode. I cried at the Tim McGraw movie, Flicka. I cried watching Parenthood with Steve Martin.

Seriously, it's like I'm some urban firehydrant that the guys crack open in the middle of a summer heatwave for all the kids to play.

The thunder is clapping, the tears are flowing, then I get a knock on my door. I went to the door, surprised to see a maintenance worker leaving a note that the water would be shut off on monday. I think he was equally surprised to see such a lovely young woman home on a Thursday afternoon, eyes red and brimming with tears, holding a jar of peanut butter in her hand, wearing sweatpants and a Tshirt that says "Wal-mart should go to Hell, not South Logan", complete with a devil horned-Walmart smily face. Classic.
I invited him in to watch a second showing of Rudy, unfortunately he did not speak English. So we stared at each other for a couple of seconds, with the rain pouring down his face, tears streaming down mine, thunder clapping overhead, as I said "Fuerte! Cuidate!"

I don't think it made sense to either of us.

IMDB = Not the bible afterall

I love IMDB. I'm an IMDB-er for more reasons than one, but the main reason being that I love to read the interesting reviews left by would be movie columnists, those who think they have a corner on the cinema market.
That being said, you must always always read the reviews with a grain of salt. Sometimes I completely agree with them. Other times, however, they put out reviews like the following, A review of Stranger Than Fiction, the new Will Ferrell movie:

I've had more entertaining poops than Stranger Than Fiction. And yes, that includes this morning.
Where to begin? Will Ferrell is NOT a meek man whose life is being mysteriously controlled by a novelist. He's just a great big lug, chewing the fat and mingling the gums. I wish he would do Alf again... I used to love it when he'd eat cats and cough up hair.
Also, what is with the Dustin Hoffman? What is this, his 1,000th movie and all of a sudden he tries to be Dr. Funnypants, PhD? He just wasn't right for the part, is all, homies. Why couldn't this be the movie where they resurrected the career of Bull the bailiff from Night Court? Dy-no-mite!
One thing I will say is that Stranger Than Fiction has a good debut from Emma Thompson. This gal can induce laughter faster than that gruff homeless man who used to tickle us as youngsters. I'll take the glazed!
Overall, I do not recommend Stranger Than Fiction.

I don't even know what to say after that. I wanted to personally chastize this "cinema expert", but I thought instead I would publicly slap his proverbial Roger and Ebert hand.
First of all, why does every Will Ferrell movie have to include him running around naked or looking like an ars? Maybe he's trying to branch out a bit.
Secondly, "A GOOD DEBUT FROM EMMA THOMPSON". WHAT? Has this person ever watched any good movies? Emma Thompson is a well seasoned actress, and I'm a little embarrassed she would accept a role playing second fiddle to Will Ferrell's shenanigans.
Third, I agree with the Dustin Hoffman thing. Get over it, Dustin.

Overall, I do not recommend you believe IMDB reviews as The Gospel. That being said, I will not be paying to see Stranger than Fiction. I will be sneaking into the theatre.

(And yes, I'm still procrastinating the gym--see below post)

Flex your gluteus. Come on, just flex it!

Working out is relative.

What one person considers a "good workout", another person may laugh and scoff at their minimal just-scraping-by effort.
I have been working out for atleast an hour for the past couple of weeks. I'm on a 3 day on, 1 day off rotation. It feels so nice to be back in the workout game. I think I'm pretty good at the game. Once I'm at the gym, my legs swiftly pace themselves on the treadmill, my arms want to push the tricep weightbar up and down. My body loves the muscle development. Hell, I love the muscle development. I get to the gym and want to keep working out, seeing that calories-burned counter go higher and higher. I love stretching afterwards. I love looking longingly at my Goal Jeans, the jeans I will fit into again when I've lost my secretary bum.

I love the gym.

But my motivation sucks.

I tell myself, just go to the gym, just put your shoes on and walk out the door. You can just take it easy today. Just turn on Oprah while you walk leisurly up the stairclimber. But, the beautiful thing is that once I'm at the gym, there is no such thing as an easy workout. I always want to push myself, because whats the point otherwise? So, the hard part is just convincing myself beforehand that I want to be at the gym. The easiest time to go is between 1 and 3 because thats the time when I have exhausted my piano playing skills, morning talk shows, and my job searching efforts have become null and void.

So, how do I find motivation once I get a job? I will be so tired every day and won't want to spend two hours every night in my gym time. Any suggestions? How do you guys do it?

Due to an unforeseen circumstance, the cats will be exiting the premises post haste.

I guess when Dad finds yellow liquid on the remote control, it is mildy irksome to the point of cat removal.

Fish. Swedish or not, sometimes they taste so good.

Who's exhuasted?

Not me, although I should be. It's bloody 3 in the morning and I have to sing in church in the morning. We have new church time and new building tomorrow. While I have been getting used to and thoroughly enjoying the lazy mornings involved with a 3:00 PM start time, we are now switching our meetings to a cheery 11 AM in bloody Gainesville, which is about 20 minutes away.

I just started going to this particular ward. It is a singles ward, one that embraces the life of a single college student oy young professional. There are about 30 people that attend church on a regular basis. Coming from a place where the chapel is usually filled with atleast 300 people, this is a stark awakening. Where can we find more people to fill up the chapel and make this sad little church meeting into something that my future children would be proud of? Where do we find the reserves? Should we or should we not involve food in this effort to recruit?

I also started going to this ward because before tomorrow, the chapel was about 5 minutes from my house. There is a much more upbeat, chapel-filled ward about 30 minutes east of me. Had I known I would have been driving 20 minutes anyway, I may have subscribed to the bigger and better. I guess bigger and better is not always a good thing. I mean look at King Kong. Or how about Tokyo? And what about that one guy on the princess bride who was totally cool, but ending up dying because he was bigger? I don't want to die an early death just to be bigger. Or better for that matter. For now, I will settle with being a little fish in a little pond. A fish who knits among her peers and lulls them into sweet mid-afternoon slumber in the pews.

Chairman Jobby McJobpants

I fear I have reached a new point in my life.
This point is: Not Having a Job and Not Caring About It.

The great thing about reaching this point in life is, well, is threefold:

1. I don't have a job.
2. I don't care that I don't have a job.
3. I am free to do whatever I want, whenever I want (barring certain financial restrictions, as well as moral duties).

This means one thing: Party Time.

I do, however, have to start a class tonight at George Mason University. It's actually just a run-of-the-mill GRE math review class. So yes I'm starting the plans for Grad School. I'm mildly terrified of the process, but comforted in the fact that people, just like myself, do it every day.

Well...I'm off to get rid of another cat. They breed like rats, it seems.

Almost perfection

There are many things in my life that I say are "my favorite thing". I may overuse the phrase "Thats my favorite _____ in the world!" I'm trying to stop this dirty habit. But before I do, let's just get a few things out of the way.

1. I love a good movie.
2. One of my favorite movies in the world is Almost Famous.

Let's talk about Almost Famous.


Before you go thinking "oh great, another in depth analysis of a movie I do not care about", let me assure you that it is not. I simply want to point out a few excellent scenes in the movie that may or may not convince you of the movie making genius that is Cameron Crowe.

First of all, it's a great movie because it has tabloid sensation, Kate Hudson, pre-hubby and Owen Wilson. It ALSO stars My Name is Earl legend, Jason Lee as resident jealous bandmate. And for anyone who cares, one of the band members is Mark Koselek who is actually a real life musical genius and a long time musical crush of mine.

So the scenes that I believe make the movie are two-fold:

1. Near the end of the movie, the band and manager and a few other people are on a plane that starts losing altitude. All believing they are going to die, they begin The Confessions. What begins as harmless "I never said I love you guys enough" eventually turns into an all out Airing of Dirty Laundry with people confessing that they slept with each others wives, harbored all consuming jealousy of noteriety, and then the pinnacle of the movie: one of the band members comes out of his closet. Two seconds later, the plane steadies and they are all left with sad, sad truths to permeate the stale, yet appreciated silence.

2. A downtrodden boy admits his love for a beautiful girl. He admits his love to her as she IS STRUNG OUT ON QUAALUDS!! Look buddy, I don't think she heard you. And you are not brave by admitting your love to a girl who is virtually dying and it is even sicker if you kiss her!
Which, leads me to another thought:
Why do people feel they can only reveal their true feelings when they think the other person isn't aware? Maybe your girlfriend or boyfriend fell asleep and they are lying there so peaceful...how is that the time to confess your undying affliction? What a rip off. I think I may start pretending to be on drugs or fall asleep so I can get the boys that so obviously love me to confess their feelings. Then I will wake up and point my finger at them and laugh. Because that is a good joke to play on somebody and you shouldn't worry about feelings at a time like that. Just sit back and enjoy the joke.

Love confessions also remind me of the time that my sister thought that her then-boyfriend told her "I love you". So she said it back. Then he was all "Eh?" And she realized he didn't say that at all. What did he say? I don't remember. Maybe my sister will be kind enough to finish the story in the comments. Well, they are married now. So, see? Jokes and mistaken love lead to long term happiness.

Happiness. is. two kinds of ice cream

I have two things in my life that are so comforting.

1. As aforementioned, my wisdom teeth are coming in. While they give me the occasional splitting headache, I'm usually able to manage, given that I have nothing else in my life to stress me out. I feel almost like I'm having a baby. The only one that has impacted is my top right molar(my right, your left). It erupted about a week ago and I check it constantly with my tounge tip. It is still an unfamiliar sensation, but I am getting used to it. And like I said, it's kind of like a babby. Every day it comes in a little more. I have something growing inside of me that is coming forth into the world to experince things like seeds of raspberries, plaque, and decay. What a beautiful thing. Like a child, my tooth allows me to receive the necessary headaches and problems anyone would experience. But the joy it brings to your life is no comparison to the hard times. I'm really getting attached. So if I get them removed (gulp), is that like...getting an abortion?

2. I've been using my house phone to make and receive calls for the past week. Like a oversized, fluffy blanket on a cold morning, having a large phone against your head feels like home. There is something to be said about the fact that phones had both a device to reach your ear and to place in front of your mouth. This produces a better ability to more clearly hear the caller and vice versa. Something that reminds me about staying up late, talking to Steve or catching the latest gossip from my middle school friends, feels wonderful while I hold the large receiver, pressed up close to my ear. I can lean my head to my neck and hold the phone again! I can twirl the phone cord through my fingers again! I can't walk too far because the cord won't allow me to do so! Gramma may have to hop over the cord that is stretched out to my bedroom! I want to wear a big tie-dye shirt, perm my hair, and flop down on my bed with the phone cuddled up to my ear.
Once I'm landlineless again, I may have to invest in this:



3. I've also been listening to "If You Rescue Me", the song from the movie Science of Sleep. A velvet underground cover worth checking out.

You're certainly making a big to do about this

Great and important things I have learned since my return:

1. Friends Season 3 is waaaaay better than Friends Season 2.
2. Banana pecan pancakes are a great way to wake up at 3 PM.
3. If your dad tells you not to paint the kitchen blue, it's funny to come home with paint samples and pretend you might do it anyway.
4. Grandma's get up 3-4 times a night and play solataire by themselves.
5. Girls over 30 hold grudges against younger, prettier girls who are more fun than them.
6. America's Funniest Home Videos is on at all hours of the day. Always.
7. Having a cell phone is so 2004. Landlines are the new cellphone.
8. Being the only kid home in a divorced parent situation really bodes well for quality time well spent.
9. Star Trek is still one of the best shows on television.
10. Having two bedrooms is the only living situation anyone should stand for. A sleeping area, a napping area, a staging area, a dressing area...no more couch surfing for me! (Unless the couch is in one of my many bedrooms).

And thats only the first week!
Stay tuned for next week when I rent a movie, go to a fair, babysit a witch, and conquer the doctor with my pills!

ode to ugly

I hate Vanessa Williams.
I hate her stupid role on that dumb show Ugly Betty.
I hate her "get stuck in your head" song "Save the Best for Last", even though I sang it in a duet with Lauren C. in 7th grade.
I hate how even after she won Miss USA pagent, she exposed her ladybits for all to see why she is so beauty-ful.
I hate every movie I've ever seen her in, especially because it normally involves her singing.

I need to live in a Vanessa Williams-less universe.
And while we're altering the universe, can I also make the public sale and wearing of man-pri's illegal? Oh and bring back saturday morning cartoons. The GOOD ones, with bugs and the whole gang. Even Captain Planet and Gummi Bears.

traveling through time

I love Tucson. And I love New Mexico. These are two things I never thought I would say. Well...I guess I'm not too suprised about New Mexico, because it's so lovely and enchanting, but never Tucson. I was recently in both of these places nearly 10 days ago and I miss them. I don't know how you can miss something you only experienced for less than a day, but my feelings for the southwest changed when I went to Tucson. My friend and I drove through Saguaro National Park in Tucson and it was unreal. The first time I saw a cactus in real life, I thought "how ugly" and "Get me back to the east coast where there is actual scenery". But apparently all that has changed.
Why the change? I don't understand why I am drawn to Tucson. But here are some hypotheses:
1. Whilst driving through the Saguaro National Forest, I rolled down the windows, pumped up the Calexico (which, come to find out, is actually the perfect soundtrack to the Southwest--if you haven't heard them, please remedy this), pulled on the shades, and coasted through the beautiful, winding roads dotted with cacti and trailers. If I were to move to Tucson, I would have to live in a trailer or some obscure house minus red roof and adobe plaster walls. And if anyone ever managed to slip in sea green and adobe pink ornamentation or indian garbage to decorate my walls, I would bring the hurt on. There's nothing I hate more about the southwest than southwest decor.
2. Anyway point number 2 is that after perfectly setting the scene, I had a semi-full bank account, a car, and one of my most favorite people in the world in the passengers seat, so Tucson was a breeze. It gave me good weather, beautiful scenery, and an amazing sunset.

Then, driving through New Mexico was probably one of the best days of my life, minus that one day when I beat my brother in Monopoly and of course the day I discovered us magazine has a blog. As one of the contenders of the best day of my life, here is what is held for me:

1. Jagged enchanting mountain ranges
2. Alien crash sites

3. government conspiracies
4. Free hotcakes and apple cider
5. Free entrance to museums
6. Bright sun and blue sky

Apparently, that's all I need to make me happy.

Don't even get me started on Texas. Within 10 seconds of crossing from NM to Texas, I realized we were lost and then 20 minutes later, Rocky Votolato blew out my speakers. Thats when I knew I should have listened to my gut that has always told me to stay far away from The Lonestar State.

Now that I am home in Virginia, I find myself missing that which I never had. Sure, the trees here are beautiful. Sure, the absence of mountains is a drastic change in my life. Sure, everyone here drives a BMW or Mercedes and I am kickin it in the 94 suby wagon. But somehow, I'm not currently fulfilled. Maybe once I get a job and stop relying on my grandma for entertainment, I will be a little more satisfied. I'm definately not sad or depressed or anything like that.
I'm just feeling...displaced.

Wanna snickers?

When I started this blog, I had my reservations. But I was inspired by a good friend of mine, who I have blogged about previously. This good friend takes shape in the human form of Eric.


I recently visited Eric in the land of Salt, where he was kind enough to entertain not only myself, but my ol chum Leslie, too. He bought us a big huge coffee cake. It was strawberrily rapturous.


We talked about moose meat.Eric is one of my oldest friends, therefore, we laughed about the old times. Like one time when him and his roommates stole all of the shoes from the Hot Girls apartment and they were so mad at them. Or the time when they hung a cooler outside of their bedroom window to keep their drinks cold and expedite the obtainment of cold drinks. Or the time when Eric and Jon nailed skis to the bottom of their couch that was NOT a dumpster couch, rather the couch from the apartments in which they were living. CONTINENTAL APARTMENTS. And I don't know which number their apartment was, but if that couch is still in there, I hope you are enjoying the legacy you sit your scrawny ass upon day after day watching your pathetic little TV shows, filling the void in your sad, pathetic little life. But I digress.

Anyway so we talked about old times for a while. Then Eric gave me a little tour of his house. I got to see the lovely dining room, the kitchen where he makes hot tea, the bathroom where he reads The Far Side, and his study. I should probably tell you, if you don't already know, that Eric has a huge problem. A lot of guys have this problem. Even marrieds. He sits up late into the night in his study, wasting away the night hours staring at his computer. And he's not just staring, oh no, his mind is wandering as he looks at the computer screen, with his wife in the room right next to his. This dirty habit keeps his mind occupied all day and night as he passes people he works with or goes to school with. He is constantly thinking about getting back to his house so he can get on the internet and do what he does best. Blogging. He is the ultimate blogger. And here's where it all takes place:


Eric has got it goin on. And if you don't believe me, check this out:

He does a great impression of that guy from Goonies.

Lord of the Rings

Sit down for this one. I want you to take a moment with me and think about what is the scariest possible blind date you could ever be privy to experiencing? Is it with a murderer? A muppet? Perhaps a two-headed Chernobyl survivor? Or is it, in fact, somebody who thinks they are something other than what they are so desperately trying to portray?

Exhibit A:

The picture was a sneak picture, thus I apologize for the poor lighting. But, can you see the tawdry man?
Listen up, cool guy. Rings? RINGS? He had more rings on his fingers simultaneously than I have owned over my lifetime. He wore not one, but two necklackes. Do you know how I know this? Our gentleman and scholar was kind enough to leave 3 BUTTONS OPENED on his cool guy shirt. The necklaces sat on his chest, nestled comfortably amidst his tufts of glued on hair. And the bracelet. The bracelet. At what point in your early thirties lifetime do you decide it is a wise idea to slip into something a little more "ethnic" and wooden?
The crime this guy is committing is not as blatently obvious as a murder or a muppet impersonation, which is why it is so disturbing. He is perpatrating a Cool Guy and he is just Not a cool guy.
Please, please, please promise me that you, if you are a man, that you will take something from this free advice session. And if you are a girl, and you see this guy, please flick him. Flick him hard and in a good place that he will remember, like right under his nose, on the nostrils. Trust me when I say that it smarts.

Chompers and Jobs

Well, it's all come down to this.

My wisdom teeth are coming in and it is high time they were yanked from my mandible. I can't even eat hard cereal on the right side of my mouth.
So...I should probably get a job that will give me health insurance.

So...I should probably get a job.

Just Plain Wrong

American Apparel really turns me on. All of their clothes are so streamlined. So simple. So plainly rapturous. Everytime I walk into a store, I want to run home and throw away all my frumpy clothing and my pirate-y ruffled shirts bought with promises to make me more likely to appear in US weekly. I also want to run home and color coordinate my closet, according to style and sleeve length.

But this...




Oh, American Apparel. You made us trust you with all of our fashion choices and then you pull the sneak move when you think nobody will question your motives.
What tomfoolery.

It's your shadow!

I have a problem.

You know that one movie where three little kids live in London and they have to resort to their own creative minds to fly into NeverNeverLand to escape the woes of society that exists in their stifling home? And you know that one old guy in the movie who runs around the whole time, relaying in his gruffly old voice, "I've lost my marbles"? I am his American counterpart.

I have lost my marbles. Do you know what else I have lost? Everything. That is why I have lost my marbles. Let me relay to you the items I have lost over the past 2 weeks:
1. My room key (which kept me locked out of my room all weekend, forced to spend my nights on a small and mildly uncomfortable loveseat)
2. My key to my work office (which if not found, will send my name to a list in DC. A naughty list of sorts)
3. My drivers license
4. My debit card
5. My friends keys (He let me borrow his car for the week while he was gone and I lost his entire set of keys--his office key, car key, post office key, and something else that looked relatively goldenly small and important)
6. My favorite black sweatshirt
7. My mind

I am a mess. My mind is mashed potatoes right now. MASHED POTATOES. I'm leaving in like 34 hours and I can't seem to get anything done. I need to look for the crap that I've lost within the next 34 hours when I'm not working or sleeping. And, what do I do about my friends keys? How do you lose an entire set of keys? WITH A KEYCHAIN? What do I tell my friend? How can I get out of this situation unscathed? I will probably never see him again because he gets back from out of town after I leave tomorrow. Should I leave him monetary restitution? Should I leave an I'm Sorry Note underneath his door? But I really value his friendship and I want to visit him in his new home in Seattle.
Luckily, according to Murphy's Law, I probably won't lose anything else, because I've already lost all the important stuff.

Honest tea

I am 24 years old and I have never written a cover letter.















There. I said it.

Oh, David, what has come of you since our dear Tommy Boy passed on?

Crisco is the new salsa

Well, I'm irked today kids. I just found out my sister gets to work at the Muse show in SLC tomorrow! I love Muse a lot, especially when I'm working out. And I would glady show up at their show with sweatbands and gym shorts. I would have no problem with that. But really Muse, can't you wait just like 3 extra days so that your biggest fan can be at your show? I mean, I own 3 of your CD's, doesn't that qualify me for some sort of fan-hood, in which I can tell you to reschedule a show for me?
And secondly, how does my sister have such a cool freaking job as an 18 year old college student and I'm stuck pushing papers for The Man? And I thought my karma was in the positive.

As of last night I have had 6 boys sleep in my room this summer. Does that make me a floozy? Well does it legitimize the story moreso that 4 out of the 6 boys were inebriated, and 2 out of those 4 boys were completely drunk? And 1 out of those 2 drunk boys threw up in my bathroom? I guess you could say I'm the mommy of the boys, taking care of them in their time of need, be it a place to sleep, a place to puke, or a place just to get all snuggly. Oh and just we're all clear, the other 2 boys locked themselves out of their rooms. It counts. In another couple of weeks, there will be no more boy sharing of rooms, given that Poppers will be just up the stairs, and Grandma doesn't approve of cohabitation, unless you count sleeping with the cats, which I think is totally inappropriate and I will NOT be taking part in. Cats are smelly, disgusting, selfish creatures and I vow here and now to never have a cat of my own. They are a scourge upon our society.

g'bye

I missed it. Bloody hell, after all of that buildup, I missed the season premiere of The Office.
Well, you can't win them all.
But you can make up for it by sleeping in through work the next day.

On a completely different note, today starts my week countdown. I will be in Alaska for another week. Next Friday will be my last day here. Will it be my last day ever? I'm not sure. But I can tell you this, if I'm not in South America next May, I will be flying up to Alaska to reclaim by job. I might even become a fire fighter. Because, come on, how is this not hot:


But in all seriousness, I have really enjoyed my time here in Alaska. 4 1/2 months passes by very quickly. I always like reflecting back on my time spent in my place of residence before moving on, so I can relish all the fun times and great friends I made. Here was my summer in a short word montage:
mosquitos, bluegrass, fire, bigger mosquitos, sunny days, sunny nights, king and queen of summer solstice, midnight softball game, jetskiing, hikes, kayak, riverboats, bonfires, island parties, more bluegrass, the marlin, northern lights, moose, caribou sheds, bumpy roads, salmon, Kennedy sundays, hot licks, guitar serenades on school buses, karaoke, and crazy crazy people.
Thank you, Alaska for always being there when I needed you.

Love,
Julie

television for the masses

I'm going to go along with Eric on this one and urge everyone out there to watch tonight's season premiere of


Thats right, The Office. When I first saw this picture, I thought "Where is Pam?" She looks totally different. My second thought was "Is that a picture of an animal mounting another animal on Jims shirt?" I think it is.

So I don't normally watch TV. The only successful syndicated programs that got me hooked in the past few years have been: Grey's Anatomy and The Office. Unless you count Alias, which, if we're counting The Office then really I should count Alias. Because I didn't start watching Alias until season 4, and I caught up on all the first 3 seasons on DVD. I recently did the same with The Office, having finished the season 2 finale on Monday. This is a much more effective method of watching TV shows. No suspense, it's like a 20 hour long movie. Heathbar and I watched seasons 1-3 of Alias in like a month. We stayed up until 4 AM countless nights watching these episodes because we just couldn't wait to find out what happened. That Sydney is so hot right now. Even post baby, her and the Afflack are a hot item. She upped his stock by a good 6 points.


While all you lovers of The Office have been waiting in suspense for the entire summer, I have been waiting for a painstaking 3 days. Suckers.

Sometimes its scary when you realize you have no hair

I left a cup of tea on my desk last week.
It is still on my desk.
The mate is beginning to mold. I have decided to turn it into a science experiment, and also, increase my chances of aforementioned rapidly spreading cold germ, which I still have managed to avoid.
I will be posting pictures shortly of my experiment.

This is going to be way cooler than my fifth grade experiment: Do plants grow better with sound--i.e. music, talking, etc.? (Results: obviously the one I talked to grew the best because of all the CO2 I was breathing right at the plantling.
What was your fifth grade science experiment? I really want to know, please share! And give results, too, don't be shy.

10 days!!

Thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love.

It started innocently enough. But when your boss starts flirting with you, take it from me, he is not just trying to be nice. Especially if he is divorced twice and "has a habit of going for younger women". And if he emails you saying "you looked good in that hat today". Creepy.
Cuh-reepy.

dreams of richie rich

Something very discomforting occured in my sleep last night. I had a dream that I had the chance to go to either a concert or a football game and what did I choose?
The football game.
It worries me, because I didn't think I was the type to choose a sporting event over a good show. Unless maybe the show was Lifehouse or Clay Aiken. But I don't remember what it was, I just remember I was really excited to see a game played between the Green Bay Packers and some Florida team. Who am I? Have I been denying impulses my entire life and I'm really just a cheesehead wearing, stadium nachos eating, jersey donning football fan?
It's a scary thought.
What's even more scary is that I went to the football game with my old high school history teacher, Coach Nichols.

things and other things

Somebody left a little toy on my desk over the weekend. It is a wooden box that has a message written on the top in black:
OPEN IN CASE OF FIRE!!!
So of course, I opened it to see what it said. And this is what it said:
NOT NOW DUMMY! I SAID IN CASE OF FIRE.
I don't know who would've given me something so silly. But they must have known that I am impatient, curious, and disobedient. They must know me well, because clearly that is not public knowledge.

In other news, I have a meeting today with the director of this grad school program at University of Alaska-Fairbanks. I'm excited for three reasons:
1. I might be going to UAF for grad school.
2. The research program is really interesting and seems to directly feed my career goals and research interests.
3. I get to leave work early to go to the meeting!

I'm getting all verklempt. let me squeeze your tochis!

Have you ever practiced the Jewish faith?
I haven't. But I've come close.
The closest I've ever been to being Jewish was the time I was out on a walk around the neighborhoods of DC. I was walking from M street down to like T street near Georgetown. My friends and I were in search of a falafal place and stumbled upon a bar mitzvah in the middle of the street! A boy was reading from the torah and singing hebrew in the lovely voice of a prepubescent young man. There were people crowded in the streets to witness this. It felt very voyeuristic to be the Christian onlooker, staring at them like they were pandas in the zoo.
The second most closest I've ever come to being Jewish just happened in the past week. I discovered this man:

Matisyahu. He is a Jewish Reggae musician. His lyrics are socially conscious and honest. He makes a connection with his fans. He atleast made a connection with me. Matisyahu was quoted on a Jewish website as saying

"All of my songs are influenced and inspired by the teachings that inspire me. I want my music to have meaning, to be able to touch people and make them think. Chasidism teaches that music is 'the quill of the soul.' Music taps into a very deep place and speaks to us in a way that regular words can't."

The quill of the soul. You don't have to be Jewish to know that is one heck of a declaration.

Pretending to be Jewish is the new pretending to be emocore.
It makes people dance like this:

And make tons of cookies with Jewish names on them:

And pose pretty Jewish girls together with one awkward boy who is definately circumsised. By the looks of it, it might have happened pretty recently. Say, 15 minutes ago.

Sometimes it makes people nervous to be Jewish. Especially when their moms are putting on the pressure. And put the death grip on their sons.

But being Jewish, I would have to say, would be okay overall. Especially if I get to hang out with these kids and join in on all of their very very fun antics.

All in a days work

I haven't seen enough sunrises in my life.
After discussing this last night with my friend, Mike, we decided to rise to the occasion. We decided we should make the most of our last couple weeks in Alaska and get out and do things, no matter what the cost. Be it money, sleep, previous friendships, bonds of secrecy, etc.
I also decided that I haven't eaten enough hearty triple bypass inducing breakfasts this year. Sometimes you just need a big pancake in the morning. If I had a kitchen, that would be simple. But I have no kitchen. So it's a bit tricky.
With these two realizations coinciding last night, Mike and I came up with a brilliant plan.

We would go to The Northern Most Denny's in the World.

So we met in the lobby at 6 AM. We were so excited to go eat crispy hash browns and sugary breakfast foods. I was especially excited.

When we got to Denny's, it was dark.

Having never been to breakfast yet this summer, nor been to Denny's in atleast since that fateful day next to La Quinta when Tanner was running up and down the aisles and spending all my quarters on the claw machine, I couldn't believe how quickly I forgot about the awesome portion sizes.
Jim went with the standard. The All-American Grand Slam.

Can you believe he only ate half of a pancake? That was after he ate all of his sausage and bacon. And after he took all my meat, too. And some hash browns. Jim is a carnivorous root plant lover.
Mike on the other hand, was still half asleep whilst shoveling his Denver Omelette with the coveted english muffin.

I, on the other hand, was faithful to my french toast craving. I've been dreaming about french toast for weeks now. The grease that melted over the plate made it look just as shiny as the laminated menu. I love to put sugar on top of my french toast. Yummy granules and butter...

Since we had prime seating options, we sat by the window to watch the sunrise. It was beautiful.


What a successful morning! And we accomplished all this before going to work! I just wish I didn't feel like this:

I'm no team player

It's that time of year again. The leaves start to change, the Autumn wind begins to pick up, the kids go back to school, and the sniffles come with barely any warning.
It begins with that one lady who comes into the office, complaining she couldn't sleep the night before. You hear the coughs coming from her cubicle with more frequency and intensity throughout the day. Then come the sneezes.
Let it soak in for a few days...then...BAM! Everyone in the office has a cold.

I am fighting it. I am really in a battle for my life. Not only because I don't have health insurance, but because once I get sick, it's over. I turn into the biggest whiner. I will take off work, lay in bed the entire day watching old episodes of Friends and indulging myself in movies such as Groundhog Day, Love Actually, and Robin Hood (Disney version). I will do this for atleast two days before even making any efforts to venture outside. And I won't take medicine for it because it makes me all shaky and sweaty. Plus I nearly loose it everytime I swallow that nasty cherry syrup. Western medicine completely baffles me. I think my behavior is residual behavior from when I was young and my mother babied the hell out of me. Not that I'm complaining. You better believe she's the first person I call when I'm sick. I know I can always count on her for the sympathy and love I'm in such desperate need of at times of ill health.

But for now, I'm being putting on my big girl face and I'm armed and ready to fight till the death. I have, right now, on my desk:
1. two oranges
2. hand sanitizer
3. zinc lozenges
4. two water bottles
5. yogurt, chock full of acidophilus
6. an old jar of raspberry jam with mold on the lid and top of jar
7. a piece of...wait...
MY JAM HAS MOLD IN IT??? I have been eating this jam all week, mixed up with my yogurt, and some pumpkin flaz granola and it's been the highlight of my mornings, every morning. I just discovered the mold. That can't be helping me in my combat.

Everyone is coughing around me. Everyone has head colds. Everyone is exchanging advice on how to get through the sick times. It's like the collective conscience of this office is totally operating at maximum capacity.
And I refuse, nay abhor the opportunity to join them.
I will stay healthy. I have ORANGES AND HAND SANITIZER! I'm good! If I can just last through the week, I'll win this game. Oh yes, I will defeat you acute nasopharyngitis.

Now for the last time, Virginia IS for lovers.

Why wouldn't I want to return to a state with lovely, intelligent people like her?

The best of the "new" is not Britney Spears's baby. It's you, dahling.

Ahem. Hello? (Tap, tap) Is thing on? (Applause) Oh...oh hi! Hello. Thanks...thank you...really, thanks so much. (applause quieting) Thank you all for coming. It's so nice to have you all here. I know you all have busy lives and work and school completely consumes your livelihood and I understand how hard it can be to break away. But we've all gathered here for a special occasion. Today is Thats right, today is the unveiling of the worlds NEWEST LEGAL HOTTIE!!! (massive cheering and appropriate amount of woots, along with rush of stage to obtain first date with newest 18 year old)


On such a special day as today, let's recognize our NLH and welcome her to adulthood.
As the first human to be honored on nomadic nourishment, you're probably thinking Wow, this NLH must have some pretty amazing credentials. And you are correct, my friend.
Stats:
Periodically has birthday on Friday the 13th.
Owns amazing collection of uberbandgeek tshirts that she also obtains for her sister.
Temporarily driving the coolest car owned by any Irish-German we've ever met.
Loves darling coffee shops.
Convinces her Dad it's a good idea to let his young daughter go to HFStival.
Shares sleeping accomadations at the drop of a dime.
Rolls her eyes really well.
Appropriately sarcastic.
Macked on the bug boys.
Let her sisters shove her in a barbie corvette and push her around the house.
Allows her Stylist Sister to chop her locks, even when she knows Sister is scissor happy, and still loves Sister after haircut is total bullocks.
Will watch episode after episode of Newlyweds and What I Like About You without disdain.
Not afraid to paint her room green.
Shares my adoration for all things Soy.
Openly watches movies starring Hilary Duff AND Amanda Bynes.
Worked at Dominos.
Hung out with Copeland.
AND Infamously quoted as saying "We can't fit all the food in the suitcase, let's just pack it in ourselves".

Feel free to comment your own reasons to love this NLH. Also accepting applications for First Date with NLH.

Though it may appear otherwise in this photograph, I love my darling NLH sister. I think she's staring at my ring on the ole index. As you are a responsible adult now, I will let you borrow it from my expansive jewelry collection. Happy birthday, CL!!See you soon and take care of Ruby!!!

There must have been an office in the garden of eden

Working in an office is the dumps.
No matter how much work you do, there is more coming because everyone always has papers to be filled out. There is always paperwork for everything. And I don't care what my boss says about job security, I'd rather have the fear of possibly losing my job motivate me to work harder than working 10 - 12 hour days under flourescent lighting and when my friend comes to visit me, her legs are 57 shades darker than mine at the end of the freaking summer!

So anyway, it's really great to be back at work. I missed crazy travel lady. She's a native Alaskan and I think she looks so majestic. Sometimes when I'm feeling really campy, I put the song from Last of the Mohicans on my iPod and watch her work. It's inspiring. I imagine her standing at the top of some crag looking off into the distance, with a forlorn look on her face, listening to her ancestors whisper in the wind. I just realized I totally stole that scene from Pocahontas. Oh well. I was inspired by Pocahontas, too, you know.


I also missed the IT guy. He always comes and talks to me for about 10 minutes out of the day. Therein is contained friendly banter, candy exchange, and suggestions of things to do around town. I like him because I feel like he understands that his job is just a job. It doesn't consume his life like so many other people in my office let happen. He has longer greying hair that he pulls back into a ponytail and he always wears old jeans with Self-Made Creases in them and old tshirts from old festivals and 5K runs. I know after he leaves work, he goes back to his little cabin and shakes off the days dust, lets his hair down, and listens to some Jimi Hendrix while he lights up a big fattie blunt. No, change that--he listens to some John Prine and eats cookies and throws back a cold beer. Yes, thats the IT guy.
I wonder if I will be missed when I'm gone. I mean, I really only have 13 actual work days left and then I'm unemployed. I know the admin dept will miss me because they will have a bigger workload without me to do my part. But what about crazy Pocahontas? Will she miss me staring at her, all starry eyed and plugged into my headphones? Will IT guy miss our inside jokes and my inability to not wear a hat every Tuesday?

I had a date tonight and I cancelled it because I was tired from work. And I knew I'd be pulling atleast 10 hour days all week. Well, that was just a good excuse, actually. I think he bought it because I made myself sound really tired so he would definately know that it was fatigue and not an avoidance cancellation. Even though, in all honesty, it was an avoidance cancellation. We went out a few weeks ago and it was fun enough. But can someone get the straightjacket and ADD medication out? I mean how hard is it to sit still for 10 minutes and watch a movie? He was so hyper the whole time and happy. I was like--doesn't anything piss you off? Ever? Aren't you sad sometimes? Then I got him talking about his engagement that just ended a few months ago and he got all sad cause she ended it. He was trying to be upbeat and look at the shiny side of it, but I could tell he was sad. So I milked it. I focused on the misery and we ran with it. I made him talk about the sadness until he was calm and ready to be normal. I'm awesome, right? Except, no I'm not, because now he feels like he shared a personal part of his life with me so we are all bonded and BFF's. So obviously cancelling the date tonight was a good thing. Because we were going to sit out in the cold and watch the northern lights. Well kids, let me tell you something, I have learned something in my twenty four years and that is that "watching northern lights" is code for the big MO. Zipper Sparkin. Tonsil Hockey. No thanks, I'd rather spend my night doing something productive. Like knitting or catching up on episodes of The Office. The new season starts and I really need to see what became of Pam and Jim. So...if I'm Pam...who's my Jim counterpart? Do you think if I stay a receptionist for long enough I will find a Jim? I'm willing to put in a few extra months if there is a return of that caliber. Offices aren't so bad, you know.

You don't have to clean your room when you're on vacation

My blog went on a vacation for about a week. Because so did I.
And really, I'm still on vacation for another 3 days, so I'd better be fair and let my blog be on vacation, too.
It's had a long hard summer of no vacations at all. None at all. How is it to have a summer without a vacation? Surreal.
I don't know, ask my blog.