You Snooze, You Lose

I would like to take this opportunity to address a very serious addiction that I have just recently been able to admit to: The Snooze Button on my alarm clock. I abuse the snooze.

Please, it has taken much courage for me to admit this problem to myself. And I hope others may take heart in my story-you are not alone.

And it's not that I just hit that happy little button once or twice in the mornings. It's that I hit that happy little button for nearly Two Hours every single day. I tried to set my alarm clock ahead of all the other clocks in my house. But that didn't work for long. I tried to change the time randomly, say 3 minutes fast one day and then 5 days later 7 minutes fast. What I learned from that little experiment is my ability to preform complex algebraic equations is conversely related to my level of consciousness.

I think I may have hit rock bottom when I accidentally hit the "off" button instead of snooze, and I actually RESET my alarm to ring after 9 minutes, and thus resumed my snooze schedule.

I need help.
http://www.thinkgeek.com/homeoffice/lights/91f2/


Perhaps this would work for me. Then again, is it worth risking life and limb just to try to beat rush hour traffic? Because I also know that my level of coordination is directly related to my level of alertness.

And my room is messy, meaning that devil of an alarm clock would have countless places to hide. And I would start the morning pissed off, which is why I changed alarm clocks in the first place.

Hmmm, could the fact that I enjoy the snooze have anything to do with "sound" of the snooze? Quite possibly the sound of the babbling brook is lulling me back to sleep. Oh, you devious, devious machine.

Nature sounds alarm clock, I wish I could quit you!

Well Helllooo, Ladies!

My nephew is my new favorite thing. Check out the camo pacifier.


He was making faces when he was sleeping, and this just cracked me up!

Say it with me - "How you doin'?"

Oh No, 3-Oh!

I was sitting sideways on my couch, with my legs stretched out in front of me and crossed at the ankle. I had just done a self pedi and was looking at my cute toes (I swear, I’m not into feet, I just have some cute little piggies!), when I noticed something a little off.

Namely, my calves. They have cellulite. I didn’t even realize this was possible. And no, I will not be posting a picture.

Now, I'm a shapely lass, but I do have my attributes (ahem, meet The Girls). I gained the obligatory college weight, which I've managed to lose. Yay, Me! I don’t make noise when I wear cords anymore (I have this really sweet pair of pink ones, totally cool!).

Then I looked at my cords, and the reason they don’t make noise anymore is because the friction of my thighs has rubbed off the ridges. So. Not. Cool.

So OK, I'll just take the advice of a friend. Her motto is "Better Living Through Chemistry!" But then I find this article:
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB121909632709750943.html?mod=rss_Health

This was when I realize--F***! I’ve got to turn off the Alias and get my fatty calves off the couch! Because if the Wall Street Journal says cellulite creams don't work, then they probably don't work. And because I'm going to be 30 in a couple a months, and I AM NOT going to have cellulite calves in my 30's! (Just a note--This is as close to crisis as I will get about turning 30. I think 30 is going to totally rock!)

The funny thing is, the only thing that could distract me from this personal horror was watching a totally gory movie where people get eaten by cave-creatures! I think I would prefer being attacked by cave-creatures to working out.

Girlie Man

Somebody told me I should see this movie. Actually, she said, ‘I know you don’t like scary movies, but you need to see this scary movie!’ I’m not a fan of scary movies, and I really don’t like gory movies. The movie she was referring to is called The Decent, and yeah, there’s a lot of blood.
So, Sweets mentioned he wanted to see it, and volunteered to watch it with me in the bright light of day. So I found myself again watching a scary movie on Sunday.

And, as far as scary movies go, it was really good. I think what helped, is that he actually jumped higher than me at the really scary parts. And an adult male who sounds a little bit like a girl when he screams, can take the edge off a really terrifying movie.

Better, Faster, Stronger....um maybe not

So there is this guy that works for the building I work at downtown, and he looks like Kanye West.

Only, he is actually cuter than Kanye West. Seriously, this guy can put a smile on my face just by being within 20 feet.

And our first conversation takes place outside the ladies restroom, which is my luck as usual. He was doing some maintenance thing, and knocked on the door. And I'm all like, "Umm, Occupado!" Yeah, fur reel! That is what I said.

(And just an aside here--have you ever totally blanked when someone knocks on the bathroom door and your undies are at your knees, you are totally exposed and vulnerable? Well, I totally freeze every time. What is the appropriate response, I ask you? I usually flush the toilet.)

But wait! There's more! He was waiting out in the hall, and asked if there was anybody else in there. I said, "Nope, just me!" Crap! He saw my face! Now I will forever be the crazy 'Occupado!' girl from the 4th floor bathrooms.

So, for the rest of the day it's gonna be all, "Kanye West almost walked in on me in the bathroom!"

Yes, I do realize I've had more potty-room antics than usual lately. This is very troubling, maybe my feng shui is off.

I Would Have Peed My Pants (If I Had Been Wearing Any)

Let me just put this out there—I am afraid of the dark. Which, thinking about it is ironic, because I like the nightlife, baby. But fundamentally, it rubs me wrong. I need to know things, and you can’t know what’s in the dark. Because it’s, umm, dark. And scary.

Let me set the scene (que Humphrey Bogart noir voice-over):
-It’s 11:30pm Sunday night.
-I’ve been watching scary movies and knitting all day. (There are exactly two scenarios in which -I can watch scary movies—1. It’s a bright sun-shiny day and birdies are chirping, or 2. I have someone to watch them with me.)
-My roommate is in the process of moving out, ergo I am Home Alone.
-I have closed all the blinds (because ScaryDarkThings might be looking in) and turned on all the lights (so ScaryDarkThings can’t lurk in dark corners).
-I decide I’m finally ready for bed, and go to take a shower.

And this is when my entire block lost power.

I’m half-naked, in my bathroom, and the lights go out. Again, did I mention I’m afraid of the dark? And I had been watching scary movies all day. Alone.

I froze in attack position. It was like, instinctual or something. Then several thoughts hit me at once—
‘shit.’
‘clothes? Where are my clothes? I can’t look for a flashlight, in the dark, nekked!’ (by the way, I found my bra three days later on the kitchen counter. I seriously have no idea…)
‘maybe if I reach down and grab a kitty tail, they can lead me out of the bathroom, like Lassie or some shit’

I fumbled along the hallway (which by the way, I don’t remember that f***er being so long) to the kitchen hoping to find a lighter. Lucky for me, it was a full moon. But, out of my irrational fear of monsters, I had closed all the blinds (‘cause seriously, some dudes just found a Bigfoot carcass, that shit could be real and looking in my windows! http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2008/08/080818-bigfoot-dna.html ).

I managed to open the blinds, found a lighter wand, made my way to my bedroom and lit some candles. Yay, me!

An hour later, the power was back on and I had to leave the cave of protective blankies and turn off every light I had turned on ‘cause I am a big, fat, Chicken!

So, a few things I have learned—
I do not like living alone.
I would not make a good spy (insert appropriate sad smiley here).
Cats are not comforting in a crisis like this--they are super stealth, and have night vision.

But I’m not as big a chicken as I thought (the proof is the fact that I didn’t just drop into the fetal position on the bathroom floor!).

Ahem, That's "SIR Penguin"

I read this story a few days ago, and it just continues to make me smile. Some time ago, at the bookstore, somebody asked me what animal I would be in the Rain Forest.

My reply--penguin. Yeah, didn't really listen to the whole question. But I heart penguins, and so I must share this story. Hope it makes you smile.

Here's the link:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/08/15/penguin-knighted-in-norwa_n_119167.html

I Do, I Do, I Do Believe In Spooks!

I wanna be a spy.

(I've been re-watching all seasons of Alias, can you tell?)

Oh, That Kwame!

So, I've often thought that parts of my life would make a great sitcom. Like the bookstore I work at (seriously, one can only hear "Um, can I buy this book here?" or "Where are your restrooms?" so many times before they start to loose their sanity), with crazy customers and even crazier co-workers.

Last week, Detroit became the basis for the sitcom in my head. Or, I should say, our great mayor-Hizonner-made us proud once again. I stopped at my coffee place downtown on my way to work, and on the TVs in the cafe, they had the live coverage of Kwame's bond trial-whatever. He was facing jail time. When I got to the office, I heard over the cube walls, "Kwame's going to the Clink!" I laughed so hard.

Then I was very sad. This man is beyond belief. I just don't understand how our mayor can't see the damage he is doing to the great city of Detroit. Then I'm reminded of our great president. And the lesson I've learned today is, idiocy crosses party lines.

Welcome To The World, Baby Boy!

Welcome to the world, we're all so happy to finally meet you!

Baby Pickle

Born August 7, 2008 at 6:30 pm. 8lbs 2.5oz. Absolutely the cutest nephew I've ever seen.

The Pressure Is Too Much For Me

So, my sister-in-law just went in to labor. Like, as I'm typing she's getting her epidural.

She went to the doc early this morning, and everybody thought it was (another) false alarm. But they sent her to the hospital and started monitoring her. I thought she'd be home by this afternoon, but I was wrong. My nephew and godson (that we've been calling Baby Pickle) is on his way, 18 days early.

When my Bro called with a status update and said this was it, I totally panicked! I'm all like, "Ok, where do I need to be? What do I need to do? Should I bring anything?" And my Bro, totally cool, 'cause he can deal with high pressure situations being a cop and all, laughed at me.

And I'm all like, "Dude this is serious! I'm the Godmother! Where do I need to be?!"

My Bro's reply-"I'll call you when it's closer. She's doing great, everything's fine."

And then I realized (and not for the first time) that I am NO GOOD at high-pressure situations. My Bro just got off a 12-hour shift, came home to a wife in labor, drove her to the doctor's, and he's totally calm. He's going to be a New Father, and I'm freakin about being the godmother. Now I know why they pick 2 godparents.