Mood: Stuffed (really, we just ate dinner and it's the only thing I can think right now...I ate way too much!)
What I'm watching: The Simpsons (Was never allowed to watch this as a child...mom thought that Bart was a bad influence...I consider this delayed rebellion but I totally heart the Simpsons!)
Dear Hollywood:
Are you completely out of original ideas? The occasional remake, I can forgive. Once in a while bringing a television show to the big screen...most of the time this is a grievous error but somewhat understandable, after all, sometimes we all get a little lazy and phone it in. But really? Remaking Footloose, The Karate Kid, The Birds, Fame, AND Friday the 13th (honestly? After 5 million sequels haven't we all had enough of Jason Voorheis?)? Isn't that just shameful, unmitigated laziness?
Sincerely,
A disgruntled movie goer.
Also? This could be cc'd to the fashion industry, only, of course, substituting the reintroduction of leggings under tulle crinoline skirts, leg warmers, jelly shoes, crimped hair, neon splashed clothing, airbrushed t-shirts, plaid pleated skirts and the side ponytail for the litany of movie re-makes. Honestly? I'm one mall bang and slouch sock sighting away from thinking I've fallen into a time warp back to 1985!
And what's really sad about the whole situation is that I'm old enough to sigh and shake my head at an entire generation of kids young enough to think that the movies are new and the fashions are trendy.
31 July 2009
21 July 2009
Craptastic Neighbors
Mood: Frustrated (Writing is not always as easy as one might think).
What I'm watching: Hell's Kitchen (I totally heart Chef Ramsay, especially when he throws someone out of the kitchen within the first hour of the new season!).
To the people across the hall:
I understand that the storage options in our small apartments are extremely limited but piling random bits of your crap overflow into the communal hallway? NOT cool. And, why is it that every morning/evening there's a different pile of crap? It's like your apartment is some sort of crap filled clown car!
Also? You smoke. A LOT. So, walking by a stack of boxes, a large bag of dirty clothes and an old mattress (can I just say GROSS!?!) surrounded by an overwhelming cloud of stale, cheap cigarette smoke just to get in and out of our home? NOT acceptable!
Sincerely,
Your neighbor (who is desperately trying to find something in the terms of our lease that protects us from the craptastic overflow from neighboring apartments.)
What I'm watching: Hell's Kitchen (I totally heart Chef Ramsay, especially when he throws someone out of the kitchen within the first hour of the new season!).
To the people across the hall:
I understand that the storage options in our small apartments are extremely limited but piling random bits of your crap overflow into the communal hallway? NOT cool. And, why is it that every morning/evening there's a different pile of crap? It's like your apartment is some sort of crap filled clown car!
Also? You smoke. A LOT. So, walking by a stack of boxes, a large bag of dirty clothes and an old mattress (can I just say GROSS!?!) surrounded by an overwhelming cloud of stale, cheap cigarette smoke just to get in and out of our home? NOT acceptable!
Sincerely,
Your neighbor (who is desperately trying to find something in the terms of our lease that protects us from the craptastic overflow from neighboring apartments.)
16 July 2009
The Short List is Getting Longer Everyday!
Mood: Worn Out (this week has already lasted a year and it's only Thursday morning)
What I'm listening to: "Our Song" by Taylor Swift (What can I say, I still have a tiny bit of country running through my veins).
I have a new addiction: McDonald's Sweet Tea. YUMMMM!!! So, this morning (having scrounged the necessary $1.06 out of my change tray), I was in line at the drive thru looking for my morning fix. I placed my order, handed over my money and was waiting patiently when the person in the large, obnoxious, diesel guzzling pick up behind me decides that it's taking too long and starts honking his horn. Uh, moron? Honking your horn at me is not going to make the process go any faster because, you know, I'm not the one actually making the food/drinks here. Honestly, what did this genius expect me to do? Crawl through the window and make my own tea?
He's definitely on my list today.
Also on my short list recently?
Cigna insurance: Sending me a request for additional information on a possible pre-existing condition? No problem. Refusing to tell me what that pre-existing condition is? Completely moronic. How am I supposed to answer all your stupid questions if I don't even know what the hell you're talking about???
My step-daughter's summer camp: Cancelling camp due to the swine flu was probably a very good idea. Cancelling it at the last minute, annoying. Deciding to go ahead and get all the campers together for a single day anyway...well, doesn't that defeat the idea of NOT having all them gathered in the same place so as to minimize the chance of spreading infection?!?
The Radiologist: He sent me a bill for $1.00. A lousy dollar. Now, it's not that I mind paying the dollar. It's a dollar. But really? By the time he pays to print the bill, have someone fold and stuff it, then pays the postage on that bill...well, it's going to end up costing him at least 20¢ to collect my dollar. Is it bad that I briefly considered making two payments of 50¢ each?
North Korea: Seriously? Get over yourself.
Giordano's Pizza on Rush Street, Chicago: Obviously they watched the 'Soup Nazi' episode of Seinfeld one too many times. 3 hours of waiting outside on a hot, muggy day in the city only to be seated 2 feet from the guy screaming names into the loudspeaker? NOT an ideal dining experience. FYI? The PA system is meant to prevent the need to scream! Scott says this was all worth it because Giordano's has the.best.pizza.ever (mind you, this is the same man who once refused to wait 30 minutes to eat at a place I really like). I say Scott needs his head examined because, by the time we got served, I was so: tired, cranky, hot, annoyed and headachy I just wanted to hurt someone. badly. No pizza is worth that mess.
Adults who insist on acting like spoiled children: GROW UP! I'm not your mother, your father or your nanny. I'm not responsible for you in any way. If you don't get something done, that's not my problem. If you get your feelings hurt, learn to deal with it. If you look for reasons to be offended, expect to be offended and I will assume that you enjoy being offended. If you don't like the way something is going, figure out a way to change it. Acting like a spoiled brat and throwing a fit because things aren't going your way? NOT ACCEPTABLE. Also? If you are going to insist on acting like a three year old, pouting and having a fit? Don't be surprised if you find yourself sitting in the time out corner until you can behave appropriately!
Seriously? Some days I wonder why I don't end up under my desk, curled in a small ball, eating my own hair.
What I'm listening to: "Our Song" by Taylor Swift (What can I say, I still have a tiny bit of country running through my veins).
I have a new addiction: McDonald's Sweet Tea. YUMMMM!!! So, this morning (having scrounged the necessary $1.06 out of my change tray), I was in line at the drive thru looking for my morning fix. I placed my order, handed over my money and was waiting patiently when the person in the large, obnoxious, diesel guzzling pick up behind me decides that it's taking too long and starts honking his horn. Uh, moron? Honking your horn at me is not going to make the process go any faster because, you know, I'm not the one actually making the food/drinks here. Honestly, what did this genius expect me to do? Crawl through the window and make my own tea?
He's definitely on my list today.
Also on my short list recently?
Cigna insurance: Sending me a request for additional information on a possible pre-existing condition? No problem. Refusing to tell me what that pre-existing condition is? Completely moronic. How am I supposed to answer all your stupid questions if I don't even know what the hell you're talking about???
My step-daughter's summer camp: Cancelling camp due to the swine flu was probably a very good idea. Cancelling it at the last minute, annoying. Deciding to go ahead and get all the campers together for a single day anyway...well, doesn't that defeat the idea of NOT having all them gathered in the same place so as to minimize the chance of spreading infection?!?
The Radiologist: He sent me a bill for $1.00. A lousy dollar. Now, it's not that I mind paying the dollar. It's a dollar. But really? By the time he pays to print the bill, have someone fold and stuff it, then pays the postage on that bill...well, it's going to end up costing him at least 20¢ to collect my dollar. Is it bad that I briefly considered making two payments of 50¢ each?
North Korea: Seriously? Get over yourself.
Giordano's Pizza on Rush Street, Chicago: Obviously they watched the 'Soup Nazi' episode of Seinfeld one too many times. 3 hours of waiting outside on a hot, muggy day in the city only to be seated 2 feet from the guy screaming names into the loudspeaker? NOT an ideal dining experience. FYI? The PA system is meant to prevent the need to scream! Scott says this was all worth it because Giordano's has the.best.pizza.ever (mind you, this is the same man who once refused to wait 30 minutes to eat at a place I really like). I say Scott needs his head examined because, by the time we got served, I was so: tired, cranky, hot, annoyed and headachy I just wanted to hurt someone. badly. No pizza is worth that mess.
Adults who insist on acting like spoiled children: GROW UP! I'm not your mother, your father or your nanny. I'm not responsible for you in any way. If you don't get something done, that's not my problem. If you get your feelings hurt, learn to deal with it. If you look for reasons to be offended, expect to be offended and I will assume that you enjoy being offended. If you don't like the way something is going, figure out a way to change it. Acting like a spoiled brat and throwing a fit because things aren't going your way? NOT ACCEPTABLE. Also? If you are going to insist on acting like a three year old, pouting and having a fit? Don't be surprised if you find yourself sitting in the time out corner until you can behave appropriately!
Seriously? Some days I wonder why I don't end up under my desk, curled in a small ball, eating my own hair.
10 June 2009
Fear Factor
Mood: Drama Soaked (yes, I know, not exactly a mood, but it's the best I can do at a description of my current state of mind).
What I'm watching: Mythbusters (Seriously, who doesn't want to see something blow up...or in this case, someone throw up?!? All in the name of science and research, of course)
I don't care who you are or how tough you think you are, we are all afraid of something. Those of you who say that you aren't? Are lying. I bet even the Incredible Hulk was afraid of spiders or something.
Me? I'm afraid of a LOT of things. Flying? Check. Bugs? Check. Sailing in any boat smaller than a cruise ship? Check. Heights? Lightning? Bridges? Check, check, and check. You get the idea, no?
I know that the popular school of thought is that we should face our fears and overcome them. I think that's a complete load of bull. I don't need to fly...I can drive. I don't need to deal with bugs...that's why I have my loving, bug killing husband (my job is to generally squeal, scream and dance around yelling "KILL IT!" while he removes the offending insect). I can also avoid heights, small boats, stay indoors during lightning storms and force my husband to drive over bridges (while closing my eyes and going to my happy, non-bridged, place).
I'm okay with my fears. I embrace my fears and accept them as a part of who I am. All except for one. I'm terrified of doctors. I admit it. I turn into a shaking, quivering pile of goo at the mere thought of having to see someone in the medical field.
I would like to go on record as saying this has nothing to do with my current physician who is, in fact, an amazingly patient, kind and caring individual. Nope. This is all me.
I hate everything about the doctor's office experience from the smells to the never ending forms that I can never seem to fill out just right. Also? Waiting in a room crammed with sick, sniffly folks is NOT my idea of a good time.
Of course, then they call you back to the examining room where you're surrounded by millions of scary pictures, medical devices and pamphlets explaining everything from dealing with a diagnosis of breast cancer to prostate cancer to diabetes. Five minutes alone with those pamphlets in a quiet room and I'm a trembling mess convinced I'm going to get everything listed.
Then, in an effort to distract myself, I start looking around the room, taking note of the medical devices. The needle holders, the probey looking thingies, the tubes, etc. and I start wondering what each one of these Medieval looking torture devices is used for. That's when I really head into the final stages of full on paranoia induced neurosis. By the time the doctor gets into the room, I've managed to work my way into a very respectable panic attack. My blood pressure is up, my heart is racing and I'm ready to bolt out the door.
But. I'm an adult. I have to be brave. I have to smile and pretend I'm not three years old and that I don't want to start screaming "I want my mommy!". This is one instance where I can't avoid facing my fears.
So, today I faced the belly of the beast once again. I stepped on the scale. Had my blood pressure taken (very good, thankyouverymuch) and all the superficial basics covered like: breathing (I was), heart rate (very fast due to anxiety attack), and my eyes (no idea what he was checking for) and my neck glands (again, no idea, since I'm not technically sick).
That was it. 10 minutes, a slight change in medications (due to...are you ready for this?...anxiety), and I was out the door feeling very brave and very proud that I had faced my fear and lived to tell the tale.
I probably would have felt better if I'd been given a piece of chocolate or a big sparkly star that said "I went to the doctor and didn't cry/faint/run screaming from the exam room". But. I'll take the appointment card that says I don't have to go back for another FOUR whole months.
What I'm watching: Mythbusters (Seriously, who doesn't want to see something blow up...or in this case, someone throw up?!? All in the name of science and research, of course)
I don't care who you are or how tough you think you are, we are all afraid of something. Those of you who say that you aren't? Are lying. I bet even the Incredible Hulk was afraid of spiders or something.
Me? I'm afraid of a LOT of things. Flying? Check. Bugs? Check. Sailing in any boat smaller than a cruise ship? Check. Heights? Lightning? Bridges? Check, check, and check. You get the idea, no?
I know that the popular school of thought is that we should face our fears and overcome them. I think that's a complete load of bull. I don't need to fly...I can drive. I don't need to deal with bugs...that's why I have my loving, bug killing husband (my job is to generally squeal, scream and dance around yelling "KILL IT!" while he removes the offending insect). I can also avoid heights, small boats, stay indoors during lightning storms and force my husband to drive over bridges (while closing my eyes and going to my happy, non-bridged, place).
I'm okay with my fears. I embrace my fears and accept them as a part of who I am. All except for one. I'm terrified of doctors. I admit it. I turn into a shaking, quivering pile of goo at the mere thought of having to see someone in the medical field.
I would like to go on record as saying this has nothing to do with my current physician who is, in fact, an amazingly patient, kind and caring individual. Nope. This is all me.
I hate everything about the doctor's office experience from the smells to the never ending forms that I can never seem to fill out just right. Also? Waiting in a room crammed with sick, sniffly folks is NOT my idea of a good time.
Of course, then they call you back to the examining room where you're surrounded by millions of scary pictures, medical devices and pamphlets explaining everything from dealing with a diagnosis of breast cancer to prostate cancer to diabetes. Five minutes alone with those pamphlets in a quiet room and I'm a trembling mess convinced I'm going to get everything listed.
Then, in an effort to distract myself, I start looking around the room, taking note of the medical devices. The needle holders, the probey looking thingies, the tubes, etc. and I start wondering what each one of these Medieval looking torture devices is used for. That's when I really head into the final stages of full on paranoia induced neurosis. By the time the doctor gets into the room, I've managed to work my way into a very respectable panic attack. My blood pressure is up, my heart is racing and I'm ready to bolt out the door.
But. I'm an adult. I have to be brave. I have to smile and pretend I'm not three years old and that I don't want to start screaming "I want my mommy!". This is one instance where I can't avoid facing my fears.
So, today I faced the belly of the beast once again. I stepped on the scale. Had my blood pressure taken (very good, thankyouverymuch) and all the superficial basics covered like: breathing (I was), heart rate (very fast due to anxiety attack), and my eyes (no idea what he was checking for) and my neck glands (again, no idea, since I'm not technically sick).
That was it. 10 minutes, a slight change in medications (due to...are you ready for this?...anxiety), and I was out the door feeling very brave and very proud that I had faced my fear and lived to tell the tale.
I probably would have felt better if I'd been given a piece of chocolate or a big sparkly star that said "I went to the doctor and didn't cry/faint/run screaming from the exam room". But. I'll take the appointment card that says I don't have to go back for another FOUR whole months.
31 May 2009
And Now a Quick Recap...
Mood: Tired? Stressed? Cranky? (can't quite decide today which, I assure you, has made life very interesting for my long suffering husband).
What I'm watching: Alf (still freaking hilarious everytime he tries to eat the cat!)
Since I've been MIA again, a quick recap of my last few weeks:
1.) As we have already established, Scott and I are the poster children for travelers annonymous. We've also established that we're learning impaired because we keep trying. A couple of weekends ago (after an invigorating round of undeserved family drama...from my side of the family), my lovely husband arranged for a relaxing weekend away. In a lovely hotel. That was hosting the participants of a local dog show...along with their 5 million barking dogs. Did I mention my allergies? Yep. And, we were on the ground floor, near the door...Can I adequately describe the joy of having those 5 million barking dogs being left to do their *ahem* business just under our airconditioning unit? No. No I don't think I can properly describe the aromatic enjoyment that comes from having that particular brand of air freshener sucked in and circulated around our hotel room. People? There are some things that even industrial Febreeze cannot cover up. I'm just saying... Oh, and do I even need to mention that the fire alarm woke us up at 7:00 am? Yes, this has happened to us before. At a different hotel. We have obviously seriously pissed off the travel gods.
2.) Family drama level has reached DEFCON 5 billion and 2 over the last few weeks. Am supremely grateful for my wonderful, loving husband who keeps me from embarking on on some ill-fated, badly conceived plan involving a belltower and firearms.
3.) I have discovered that I'm a basically lazy, self-indulgent creature. Now, before those of you who know me respond with the totally called for "duh", let me just explain what preceeded this particular epiphany. I remember with fond nostalgia the hot summer days of my youth when I would enter a grocery store, a restaurant, or other establishment to be met with an artic blast of cold air that would cause my glasses to fog and goosepimples to form on my arms and legs. It was like walking from the heart of the sun into a cool, refreshing meat freezer and I loved every tooth chattering minute of it.
However, recently I've noticed a decided lack of arctic like temperatures as I've entered retail establishments. In fact, for the first few weeks of warm weather, I thought I was having hot flashes every time I entered a store and would constantly ask "is it hot in here, or is it just me?" Turns out that it's not just me. It's a combination of stores trying to appear environmentally friendly (sort of) and saving money on utility bills (ding, ding, ding...we have a winner here!). As much as I love the environment and saving money, I have to say that I get so incredibly cranky when I'm uncomfortable that I really do become a menace to society. So, honestly? It would be in everyone's best interest to either A. grab the jaws of life, loosen the wallet and turn down the air, OR B. Stay the heck out of my way because if I'm having a lack of air conditioning induced hot flash in the middle of a store things could get really ugly. Fair warning.
4.) I love my husband. A lot. I spent all day at a kite festival with him. He loves kites. I love him. Therefore I allowed him to live...even after 5 hours in the sun watching what, for me, amounts to the thrill of watching paint dry. Did I mention the sunburn?
5.) Speaking of paint...since I've worked at the church I've discovered that I have a severe allergic reaction to a particular type of paint. How did I discover this? It's the paint that they insist on using every.single.time. Days of burning eyes (ever pour bleach in your eye? neither have I but I think I've got a pretty good idea of what it feels like), itching skin (I also now know how a dog with fleas feels), and burning lungs can really take their toll. Also? Paint fumes do not disappear overnight. Let the misery continue!
So, there you have it. The highlights of my life this month.
What I'm watching: Alf (still freaking hilarious everytime he tries to eat the cat!)
Since I've been MIA again, a quick recap of my last few weeks:
1.) As we have already established, Scott and I are the poster children for travelers annonymous. We've also established that we're learning impaired because we keep trying. A couple of weekends ago (after an invigorating round of undeserved family drama...from my side of the family), my lovely husband arranged for a relaxing weekend away. In a lovely hotel. That was hosting the participants of a local dog show...along with their 5 million barking dogs. Did I mention my allergies? Yep. And, we were on the ground floor, near the door...Can I adequately describe the joy of having those 5 million barking dogs being left to do their *ahem* business just under our airconditioning unit? No. No I don't think I can properly describe the aromatic enjoyment that comes from having that particular brand of air freshener sucked in and circulated around our hotel room. People? There are some things that even industrial Febreeze cannot cover up. I'm just saying... Oh, and do I even need to mention that the fire alarm woke us up at 7:00 am? Yes, this has happened to us before. At a different hotel. We have obviously seriously pissed off the travel gods.
2.) Family drama level has reached DEFCON 5 billion and 2 over the last few weeks. Am supremely grateful for my wonderful, loving husband who keeps me from embarking on on some ill-fated, badly conceived plan involving a belltower and firearms.
3.) I have discovered that I'm a basically lazy, self-indulgent creature. Now, before those of you who know me respond with the totally called for "duh", let me just explain what preceeded this particular epiphany. I remember with fond nostalgia the hot summer days of my youth when I would enter a grocery store, a restaurant, or other establishment to be met with an artic blast of cold air that would cause my glasses to fog and goosepimples to form on my arms and legs. It was like walking from the heart of the sun into a cool, refreshing meat freezer and I loved every tooth chattering minute of it.
However, recently I've noticed a decided lack of arctic like temperatures as I've entered retail establishments. In fact, for the first few weeks of warm weather, I thought I was having hot flashes every time I entered a store and would constantly ask "is it hot in here, or is it just me?" Turns out that it's not just me. It's a combination of stores trying to appear environmentally friendly (sort of) and saving money on utility bills (ding, ding, ding...we have a winner here!). As much as I love the environment and saving money, I have to say that I get so incredibly cranky when I'm uncomfortable that I really do become a menace to society. So, honestly? It would be in everyone's best interest to either A. grab the jaws of life, loosen the wallet and turn down the air, OR B. Stay the heck out of my way because if I'm having a lack of air conditioning induced hot flash in the middle of a store things could get really ugly. Fair warning.
4.) I love my husband. A lot. I spent all day at a kite festival with him. He loves kites. I love him. Therefore I allowed him to live...even after 5 hours in the sun watching what, for me, amounts to the thrill of watching paint dry. Did I mention the sunburn?
5.) Speaking of paint...since I've worked at the church I've discovered that I have a severe allergic reaction to a particular type of paint. How did I discover this? It's the paint that they insist on using every.single.time. Days of burning eyes (ever pour bleach in your eye? neither have I but I think I've got a pretty good idea of what it feels like), itching skin (I also now know how a dog with fleas feels), and burning lungs can really take their toll. Also? Paint fumes do not disappear overnight. Let the misery continue!
So, there you have it. The highlights of my life this month.
07 May 2009
Random Blog Thoughts
Mood: Sleepy (It's way past my bedtime. *yawn*)
What I'm watching: Oprah. (I know, I know. I never watch Oprah, but it's the Elizabeth Edwards interview and I loves watching me a sad little train wreck.)
1.) Swine flu is totally allowing me to embrace my inner Monk and give full reign to my OCD tendencies. Seriously folks, you might want to consider buying stock in the Purell/Germ-X companies because my usage alone is going to ensure record breaking profits.
2.) Twitter is totally addictive. No one cares what I'm doing from minute to minute but yet I can't help but putting it out there anyway.
Hmmm...guess that's it for tonight. Brain cells fried. Need sleep.
What I'm watching: Oprah. (I know, I know. I never watch Oprah, but it's the Elizabeth Edwards interview and I loves watching me a sad little train wreck.)
1.) Swine flu is totally allowing me to embrace my inner Monk and give full reign to my OCD tendencies. Seriously folks, you might want to consider buying stock in the Purell/Germ-X companies because my usage alone is going to ensure record breaking profits.
2.) Twitter is totally addictive. No one cares what I'm doing from minute to minute but yet I can't help but putting it out there anyway.
Hmmm...guess that's it for tonight. Brain cells fried. Need sleep.
03 May 2009
Adventures in Domestic Sciences
Mood: Happy...sort of (it's been a long day but I've more or less pleased with the results of my efforts and can't be completely happy because I'm intensely craving a blue raspberry ICEE.)
What I'm Watching: King of the Hill (Who knew that the guy who helped create the annoyingly stupid Beavis and Butthead could also create the genious of Hank Hill and Boomhauer. And Dale Gribble? Might not be as paranoid as everyone suspects him to be...I'm just sayin').
I have a confession to make. Despite my overacheiving, obsessive-compulsive must maintain a perfect 4.0 - having a nervous breakdown over my first 'B' (because I was sure that 'B' meant I was an absolute idiot who was doomed to work the slurpee machine for the rest of my life...Yes. I've always been over the top dramatic and obviously hadn't completely plugged in to just how fun running the slurpee machine could actually be) academic career, there is a rather large skeleton lurking in my academic closet.
Home Ec. Sewing, cooking, setting a proper table, etc.? So NOT my thing. While I sailed through honors Math, Science and English I struggled with properly running a sewing machine. Bobbins still confuse me (how the hell does that work?), patterns make no sense (and why do they make it out of such thin freaking paper?), and my one sewing project? Looked like it had been made by a drunk blind person on crack. The teacher gave me a pity 'C' because she knew how hard I'd tried. Yep. Even with concerted effort, that's the best I could do.
So, after weeks of looking for the perfect laptop case with no luck whatsoever, what do I decide to do? Make.my.own. What the hell was I thinking? I don't sew. I can barely thread a needle and now I'm trying to modify patterns, create pockets, and *gasp* use a newly purchased craft grade sewing machine.
The good news is that I found some super cute fabric so the laptop case will be competely funky if I finish it and if, in fact, it even resembles a laptop case when I'm done. *Sigh* At this point the most I can hope for is that it will look good enough that, instead of thinking that it was made by a drunk blind person on crack, people will think that it was made by an only slightly tipsy 80 year old woman with cataracts.
Never fear. Pictures will be posted when the project is finished so that the mocking may commence.
What I'm Watching: King of the Hill (Who knew that the guy who helped create the annoyingly stupid Beavis and Butthead could also create the genious of Hank Hill and Boomhauer. And Dale Gribble? Might not be as paranoid as everyone suspects him to be...I'm just sayin').
I have a confession to make. Despite my overacheiving, obsessive-compulsive must maintain a perfect 4.0 - having a nervous breakdown over my first 'B' (because I was sure that 'B' meant I was an absolute idiot who was doomed to work the slurpee machine for the rest of my life...Yes. I've always been over the top dramatic and obviously hadn't completely plugged in to just how fun running the slurpee machine could actually be) academic career, there is a rather large skeleton lurking in my academic closet.
Home Ec. Sewing, cooking, setting a proper table, etc.? So NOT my thing. While I sailed through honors Math, Science and English I struggled with properly running a sewing machine. Bobbins still confuse me (how the hell does that work?), patterns make no sense (and why do they make it out of such thin freaking paper?), and my one sewing project? Looked like it had been made by a drunk blind person on crack. The teacher gave me a pity 'C' because she knew how hard I'd tried. Yep. Even with concerted effort, that's the best I could do.
So, after weeks of looking for the perfect laptop case with no luck whatsoever, what do I decide to do? Make.my.own. What the hell was I thinking? I don't sew. I can barely thread a needle and now I'm trying to modify patterns, create pockets, and *gasp* use a newly purchased craft grade sewing machine.
The good news is that I found some super cute fabric so the laptop case will be competely funky if I finish it and if, in fact, it even resembles a laptop case when I'm done. *Sigh* At this point the most I can hope for is that it will look good enough that, instead of thinking that it was made by a drunk blind person on crack, people will think that it was made by an only slightly tipsy 80 year old woman with cataracts.
Never fear. Pictures will be posted when the project is finished so that the mocking may commence.
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