I so very didn't want to exercise today

But I hads me an assppointment, so I went. I arrive at noonish and notice that my trainer is cheating on me with some dude who is not even half as adorable as I am in my stripey yoga pants. Can't he coordinate?? At any rate, the first thing out of Babs's mouth is "You're killing me". I got the time wrong. Again. My response was "Best. Client. Ever." To which he miggled, or man-giggled for those who can't follow the lingo. Anyway, Emily showed up and after talking and not working out, we observed some dude who lifts a couple of reps, moves on to a new machine, then reads his newspaper for, oh say, 10 minutes. After 25 minutes of weight lifting wherein I did more reps than he probably does in a *year*, he began to make phone calls on his cellphone. Which leads me to ponder, WHAT THE HELL IS HE DOING?!?! You pay for a membership to go to a gym and then read the Sunday paper and do a little business. Wow. Em was horrified when she learned that her last machine she had to use was the very same one he had set up shop on about 15 minutes prior. She siddled over and asked if she could, "Slide into his routine". Maybe there's time in between the financial section and sports. Emily also listens to reggae when she lifts weights and, apparently, her ability to focus on exercising is entirely dependent on what's playing on her ipod. Too slow and she can't workout. So cute.

Also, I forgot to write about my guilty pleasure whilst I was home this weekend. On Sunday night they were showing America's Top 40 Live with Ryan Seacrest, who probably dies a little inside each day from being such a tool. Of course I watched it. I'm fascinated by Justin McCartney and his mismatched eyebrows and actual hair. Does he color them? Are they just filled in by an overzealous makeup artist? The world may never know. At any rate, turns out that both he and Hoobastank SUCK live. Honestly. They have probably sung their popular song about 70 MILLION times and they still blow. Wow. Learn to sing your 5 notes in tune, guys. Not that complicated. And Akon, my heart of hearts, also had a little performance. I am seriously the only person I know who likes his song and I'm smitten. He came onstage in his little button-up blue shirt and his little pair of jeans and he held hands with people in the audience and was generally adorable and seemed very down to earth. He will have my babies. Or something like that.

Anyway, two last things and then I have to skeedaddle because my cat is caught in the hamper again. Oh, Kitty. You shall never learn. First of all, yet another scary scary website from my brother: http://www.wayofthemaster.com/. Go to the highspeed version. Growing Pants, anyone? *Yikes*. Secondly, when I arrived home last night, I walked in the kitchen and there was an unopened can of catfood in Mew's bowl. Apparently Richard is trying to train her to open cans. He says it was a joke, but I know from other sources that he had his own little struggle with opening the catfood. Nice.

Bloggity blog blog

So this weekend I saw a clip on the Daily Show that basically said Harvard was using money for maroon blazers and Lord Fauntleroy training. Awesome. And I'm going to go ahead and warn everyone who reads this that this particular "episode" is going to be a little more rehashing as I attempt to remember what made my brief stay in Dallas interesting. Em says she's interested, but I'm pretty sure she's just being nice. Anywomb, I'm going to try to go about this backward since I remember things best that way.

First of all, my Aunt Pat and my Great-aunt Harriet were in town this weekend, which I did not anticipate. Harriet is hilarious but I'm not sure she means to be. Just the other day she picked up a huge gray cat that my parents own that tends to bite off faces and showed us triumphantly through the window as he struggled in vain to be free. Both Pat and Harriet left today, which was a shame since I don't see them as often as I'd like. I also had a doctor's appointment today to which a certain friend said, "Yeah I need to go see the doctor so's she can dig around in my hoohaw." Really? 'Dig around'? Really? I suggest maybe 'prod' or 'scavenge' would be a better word. But not 'dig around'. At any rate, I won't go into any details, but suffice to say that with a nurse and the doctor, a routine checkup becomes somewhat of a crowd. I'm really more of a one-on-one person. Other than that I just worked out today with my mother's trainer Brent. He giggled about the trekkie story. Seriously, giggled. I also taught my father the word "fugly" today. I feel as if I've accomplished something.

Sooooooo over the weekend my brother, Noreen, and I all went to the Galleria and ate at this amazing sandwich place called Which Wich where they toast the sandwich for, oh say, FOREVER. It was hella worth it though. And the two of them tossed a bouncy ball at me when I was in the dressing room at Old Navy. Mature. On Saturday I gots my roots dyed the same color. I know, I know, after all of that thought and I look the freaking same. Lame. But I *do* have highlights for that summer sassiness we all want so much. Besides yet again having the best meal of my life at the Olive Garden, I also saw The Amityville Horror. Big. Mistake. First of all, I have seen the original. It's a lot of James Brolin and Margo Kidder running around before she went crazy. Nothing happens. There's kind of a reference to a hell hole at the end, the walls bleed, blah blah blah, and everyone escapes. Anticlimactic. Unfortunately, this one was updated to the times with hella creepy ghosts, things moving, a dog dying, and the ubiquitous Indian burial ground. I mean, at least they gave a reason for the house being haunted, but honestly, really guys? For the remainder of the evening I warned people about the Indian burial ground next to Bath and Body Works in the mall and in the backseat of my car. I know that when I torture Native American tribes in the trunk of my mom's Acura, I tend to make sure that I desecrate their remains before getting rid of them and then promptly building a house in the backseat where there's no seat warmers.

Anyway, Friday was my reunion, which was fun and awkward all at the same time. My outfit was perfect and I spat upon all of the other people there who were not dressed as pseudo trendy as I was. Cause, you know, you can't look like you're trying too hard. Yeah.... AND we saw Kung-fu Hustle, THE BEST MOVIE OF ALL TIME that night. Seriously, it almost beats out my love for Deep Blue Sea, though nothing will take the place of intelligent sharks that can turn on ovens and change sizes. Beautiful. Thursday was uneventful except that my mom and I went to a panel of speakers from my high school and since she's 5'4", she managed to get plastered on something in between 2 and 4 glasses of wine that night. I only saw her toss back 2, but who knows what she was doing when I wasn't paying attention? It led to awesome moments like when she turned to me in the silent auditorium when a speaker was answering a question and said things like "That's just like you, Sweetpea!!!" "Shhhhhh!!! Arghhhhhhhh... What's the matter with you?!?!?!"

I'll miss my family, especially when the new puppy poos in my bathroom TWICE IN ONE DAY. Noone in this freaking house is a disciplinarian.

So I'm at work right now...

And hella posting on my blog. It's like I'm trying to get fired or something. No, no, I love filing. Really. *awkward silence* ANYWAY, I'm transferring info from evaluations that were filled out at the last admitted applicant weekend. My two favorite so far was that one guy wanted to extend it. Why not? Let's have an admitted applicant week! Hell, MONTH!! That way, I can have the time to destroy them all. With snuggles. Also, another evaluation has what I would consider to be the most illegible handwriting I have ever seen. They have a sentence on the back of the sheet that I couldn't make out, so I just made it up. And I'll be happy to inform you that, against my natural inclinations, I managed to write something normal that could very well have appeared on an evaluation. As opposed to a treatise on world domination or something. That reminds me, I want to see the Incredibles again. And I want to buy a puppy. Moving on.

In a somewhat joking manner, my friends and I have been discussing me finding a different route home since my trekkie paramour now appears to look for me there. However, since I now only work two days a week at the admissions office, it's not as big of a deal and I usually workout anyway so I go to Bally's before returning to ma hizzouse. This morning I was happily plodding along to work, pleased because it's sunny and semi normal weather for spring time. I think maybe the weather fairy in Boston got food poisoning or something. Anyway, I was accosted yet again the temp. At this point, I'm beginning to think that the guy doesn't really find me attractive, he just really really likes awkward conversations.

This weekend I also realized three things. First of all, I'm not very good at DDR. And I'd be better at Karaoke Revolution if I could stop laughing in the middle of my song. Apparently, giggles are not always on tune. Also, Ladies Night is the hardest song in the history of mankind to sing, especially if all you know is the refrain. Oddly enough, Oliver, who was humorously bad at DDR (ie much worse than most of us), was hella good at Karaoke. Emily was also very accomplished at Karaoke, but not horrible at DDR. I think Oliver doesn't have the enzyme or something. Secondly, I realized that Kitty might have been chewing on my roommate's toothbrush for a while now. It's hard to tell. I haven't personally witnessed anything before, but while I was getting ready for bed the other day, I glanced up and she definitely had the whole thing in her mouth and was gnawing away complacently. So cute... Richard's response was, "Ha HA! I have my real toothbrush here in Connecticut. Take that Kitty!" Richard, this is why Kitty will not attack moths for you. Also, Mew Mew ate fully half of a necklace I had that was made out of suede. She might just have chewed it to pieces, but I can't find the rest of it and I'm not sifting through the litterbox to find out. I'd rather just assume. Finally, I had a somewhat intriguing conversation about the relative merits of friends with benefits with a friend of mine I haven't spoken to since high school until lately. Just so anyone knows, you can't have a conversation like that without sounding either like a delusional love sick puppy or a total whore. Rock on.

In other news, my favorite part of this weekend was when I called my mother to talk since I haven't spoken to my parents in a week whilst they were on a relaxing cruuuuuuuuuuise. I was talking on the phone to her when I informed her that there was a dog show on Animal Planet and the herding category was fast approaching. We own shelties, so my mom is always interested in them. I shall recreate the conversation below.

"Mommy, did you know that the Eukenuba Dog Show is on Animal Planet?"
"Hmmm? That's nice."
"They have the herding category coming up. Maybe Puppily or Maggie would want to watch." <-- My two puppies at home. The first one is actually named Tex, not Puppily, but you get the idea.
"That's very exciting. Will Serafina watch?" <-- My kitty.
"No. She is disgusted by puppies. But there is a sheltie."
"What?"
"There's a sheltie in the herding best of show category."
........"I think your father wants to talk to you."

So my mom blew me off to go watch a sheltie prance around a dog show. To be fair though, I subsequently got off the phone with my father because my toast was ready. But, I mean, come on. Toast is gross cold. Uhhhhhhhh I love you, Daddy!!

The nose knows. Or, as Emily says, the noooooooooooose!!!!

I am super cool. Let me tell you why. Yesterday, Caroline, Em, and I all scampered off to this perfumery in Boston where one can make their own perfume. First of all, this lended itself to a chance to visit Store 24, which I haven't done in quite a while. In fact, since it closed down my freshman year in the Square. I miss Store 24. It had a certain sketchiness to it that made me look really normal. And I always enjoyed seeing errant rats scurrying quickly out of the light and back into their home amongst the bags of chips. After I told Gamze that freshman year, she refused to go in there. Gamze also tried to convince me that the rats in Turkey have anesthesizing breath and that they wait until you're sleep, then chew off your nose and stuff at night. But since you can't feel it, you don't know until morning. Like leprosy, only better.

Anyway, I digress. Caroline read a magazine that claimed that the man who owns the store is a "nose". That is to say, he can smell you and then know what perfume you should be wearing. I personally think that he can smell you and know what perfume you ARE wearing, but he wasn't there so we'll never know. Instead, we were serviced by his son, a nose in training (is that hyphenated??). Using my powers of good, I created my ultimate perfume. It smells soooooooooo good. Like crack, but it's not a $100 a day habit. Of course, I could be wrong since, honestly, I don't know how much crack costs. But I'm sure that some of the people reading this do, so they can add their 2 cents any time they feel like it. I basically chose about 6 scents that are in every single perfume that I have ever loved, then added some more "spicy" elements since I always end up wearing what they term "oriental" fragrances. I'm in love with my new perfume and it wasn't even any more expensive than normal perfumes despite the fact that, yet again, I managed to choose the most expensive notes in the store. My mother would be so proud. And it smells hella better! And it lasts all day!

On a similar note, last night I was eating dinner with my crew and Caroline mentions "Hmmm... fried onions. It smells like..... sex." That is gross. Fred didn't want to sit next to her after that although it didn't appear that her boyfriend was bothered by the insinuation. All I know is that I am hella never staying over at her place again. Who KNOWS what goes on there. Last night was also good just because of the Fredly time. His sissy couldn't be there, which is a shame since I don't see Steph that much anymore (or not as much as I'd like since she lives, like, 20 miuntes away). Fred and I managed to properly traumatize Oliver in under 10 minutes, so I was happy. My Freddums is someone I miss dearly from college. I miss all of my good friends a hella amount, but I seem to talk to some of them more often on the phone and he's hard to get ahold of since he's in Cambridge, England. Kind of like how G is hard to get ahold of, but I talked to her online for an hour yesterday, so all is well right now. She was in AMSTERDAM on business. Home o' whores and marijuana. Oh, Amsterdam.

Anywomb, my crazy meds ran out on Monday, so my body is going into withdrawel. So much so that I didn't feel at liberty to work out this morning despite waking up at 6:30 am. Somehow, lifting weights and jogging on a treadmill when you are really dizzy just doesn't seem like a good idea. This is why I argued with my doctor last summer to take me the hell off of the stuff since I forget to refill it often enough that it's a problem. Em and I decided yesterday that I'm a giant pushover, and that's why she won the argument. Dammit. Ironically, what it's supposed to do is just make me marginally more apt to get up and go, which was a problem junior year of college. When I stop taking it for several days, I feel no difference in my desire to greet the world. The only difference is that I'm insanely dizzy and can't read for too long or I have to lie down. And I get to wait until my parents get back from a trip since I am still awaiting health coverage and don't want to pay around $150 for a prescription. So, uh, Beck, if you're reading this and feel like express mailing me the stuff tomorrow, I can call the pharmacy and set it up. I'm going to die.

Also, my brover sent me this link: http://www.ifilm.com/WMPPlaylist.asx?ifilmId=2667017&bandwidth=300. I don't know if it's my intense love of Mr. T or for my own mother, but this is an amazing video.

Wow. Just wow.

This weekend was a whole snotload of fun times. Friday eve I went out for a birfday party and then as I was on my way to can only be described as a "jaunt" with my friend Randal, I happened upon a friendly chap sitting in the dark by himself. Sensing that this can only imply good things, when he said hello, I paused long enough for him to latch onto my visage, at which point he said, "When I meet intriguing people I want to ask them questions." I seem to be getting that description a lot lately and I kind of wonder what everyone is implying. Anyway, as he took out a piece of paper with some typed questions on it, I decided to query, "Are you high or just really drunk?" "What?...Yes." It took me 5 minutes, one moment where he accused some guy on a bike of trying to shoot me, and my promising that I was packing heat before I extricated myself in a properly polite manner. You know those bike-by shootings. They're everywhere these days. Saturday evening I got to see FRED!!! and then subsequently scared the crap out of myself watching Ringu. It's times like these that I wish I had some sort of male figure to command. Richard is not really commandable, but he does live there and can't escape my neediness. Of course, he wasn't there this weekend, but I did manage to convince a couple of people to soothe me in my freaked out state that, oh yes, I definitely was the cause of.

So. Admitted Applicant weekend. A whole weekend of supercilious, egocentric people. My kind of weekend. I will admit that some of the people have been thuper. I'm going to go ahead and say that I can count them on my right hand and they were all friends of mine before this weekend. One of them already attends the law school, another one is Oliver, who has nothing to do with the law school, and then a few errant people whom I'm fond of. People checking in ran the gamut from your average shyness, to bubbly friendlike behavior, to one guy who had greased back black hair and a Hawaiian shirt who insisted on shaking my hand. Ewwwww. Anyway, yesterday one of my "jobs" was to sit in a room with a bunch of luggage and, you know, watch it, and I suppose wait for people to come pick it up. Many of the moments I shared as the collective bellboy for these people were special, but one particularly stands out in my mind. A boy wearing a Duke t-shirt hands me his little card with the number on it that corresponds to the luggage. I look down between our feet and there lies his Duke duffel. So he says, "Yeah, that's the one." You know, the one at both his and my feet. Then he stares at me. ... I'm really not getting tipped for this. In fact, one could argue that I'm there as a nicety and, honestly, they can cart their own crap around all day for all I care. So why he thought I was itching to pick up his duffel and hand it directly to him is a little beyond me, but I did it anyway with an accompanying look of disbelief.

Today has been a little more riveting. Arriving at 8 am to work and then moving bags for people isn't as glamorous as it sounds, but hey, it's more stimulating than just sitting with them alone in the dark. I didn't even mind it when several people dropped off their stuff and then made me go get it again so they could get a pen or something. Bitches. But somehow I was not charmed when a girl came by asking for special help concerning her rooming situation. Okay, so her request was fair. The poor thing had been given a room key but no key to swipe into the bathrooms. Ouch. She came midday today (you know, as opposed to at 9 am) to fetch the proper key and I was the one chosen to escort her to the housing office. To say that she was a weensy tad bitchy is subtley stating the obvious. In fact, the imply that she was a whole lot of bitchy to the poor woman at the housing office is fair. Accidents happen, mistakes are made, the lady doesn't live in the dorm so it's not surprising that she would forget. Honestly, it's not like the girl never got to pee, some dude let her into the girls' bathroom with his ID, so apparently everyone but her can access it. As we left the office, she turned to me and stated, "Retards". What a little sweetheart. Also, her name is Teale. That's just dumb.

I met the pizza fairy!!

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Spring forward into 40 F weather

This weekend was what some could call "red-letter". Not only did I actually go out on a Friday night, but I also, oh yes, saw Sin City, which was *fawesome*. My love for Bruce Willis has been reinstated and I totally want to be a hooker. But only one with semi automatic weapons and properly costumey ho clothing. One of them was dressed as Zorro!!!! She died I think...

Anyway, post Sin City, I was invited to a gay bar called Manray, which is located in Central Square. I have never been to Manray, but many of my gay friends have frequented their establishment, so I felt inclined to be one of the crowd and check it out. Needless to say, I was only going to go if I convinced Lola to go. Check. And if I didn't look like the crap I did for the movie. Check. So, in the pouring rain I made my way to what can only be described as an "eclectic" dance hall. The inside of it was like a bitter sweet marriage between preppy and reasonably attractive gay men and goth people. I don't know what the goth people are doing there or how they coexist, but they were kind of all over and I feel like there was another room I didn't go into where they could be suitably dismissive of pop culture. Anyway, after some nice dancing and intense fear that my top would just fly off of my newly tiny boobal region (curse you, exercise!!!), there was some subpar lip synching from a woman who desperately needed a bra and some superb dancing by the DJ Misery, who can do amazing high kicks and splits in 4-inch heels. I was in awe. I also think that DJ Misery is a man, but, honestly, I think it can be argued otherwise.

Which brings me to my next question. How come I only look attractive when there's no one around that cares? I mean, Lola kinda cares in the sense that she knows that I care, but I feel firmly that other than general friends looking out for other friends, I pretty much look good around people who could care less and bad around everyone else. Speaking of which, I don't know if anyone remembers a previous post I had about a temp at work hitting on me. Well, to refresh your memory, some guy did and I was not pleased. Not interested in preppy 30 year olds with ponytails who liked Buffy the Vampire Slayer more than I did. Yeah, not attractive. After receiving his number on a perforated paper business card, I expressed a general "Um, okay!" Of course I never called him. But guess who I managed to come across as I was walking home Friday? In all of Boston, even within Cambridge and Somerville, the likelyhood I would be on the same street corner at the same time on the same day is so very low. Thank God I have amazingly bad luck. Incidentally, it was the most awkward 10 minutes of my life, which the exception of that one time.