Category Archives: Not Remotely Related to Anything
I was going to write a post last week about how on my way to work, I accidentally flashed a train station. It was going to be a hysterical addition to my series of accounts of why I am the most awkward. It was going to be cringe-worthy and deliciously self-deprecating. I thought about it all the way to work. But I didn’t write it. Because if I’m being honest, it’s just not that funny. I went to work in a black sundress with a high neckline and a low hem. It covered everything, unlike my Old Navy sundresses from three seasons ago that seem to have shrunk to the point that they are no longer work-appropriate, even with a cardigan. I thought I was doing really well on the dressing-appropriately-because-I-am-almost-a-grown-up-who-is-not-in-college-and-who-makes-over-ten-dollars-an-hour-and-who-is-married-and-who-gets-to-eat-ice-cream-wherever-she-wants-be-that-on-the-couch-or-otherwise front.
Then my L.L.Bean messenger bag made my dress ride up and a lady politely tapped on my shoulder to alert me of the problem.
That was it. The skirt was so long that I’m fairly certain no one even saw anything, I just looked silly. I certainly didn’t look like a grown-up, even with my L.L. Bean bag which is certainly very mature of me because you can replace it for free if it breaks. Buying from L.L. Bean is the same as Being Responsible. Never mind that this is the third replacement bag I’ve had because I keep busting the zippers. NEVER MIND THAT. The point is that even my mature buying habits (fine. My mother’s mature buying habits. But, to be fair, I was 14 or so when she bought the first one, and I did not even pitch a fit that L.L. Bean bags were lame. That’s pretty mature in and of itself) could not make me look like a grown-up here.
So you’re welcome that I didn’t write and post it.
On a similar note, my knitting is just as disinteresting. I’ve been on an inexplicable stockinette kick. Two pairs of stockinette socks, two Citrons, and half of a Beaded Cami. So. Much. Stockinette. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s because 90% of it is done on the commuter rail to and from work? Most likely it’s just that I’m gone for about 97 hours a day and just don’t have the brain power to focus on anything interesting.
I think the point of this largely irrelevant post is that I have two big writing projects to work on (oh you know, just the other half of “With Pointed Sticks.” Nbd), and am in quite the little creative funk.
As I mentioned earlier, I started a new blog about planning a wedding on a strict $5000 budget. If you’re interested, it’s here.
If you’re not interested, here’s a picture I drew of two cats in a supermarket:
Things I am thankful for:
1. Coffee mugs. If ever I have two that match, I will be upset.
2. Jeans that are too big.
3. Red lipstick that doesn’t make me look like a whore.
4. Guilt-free Christmas music listening now that Thanksgiving is over.
5. Friends who don’t mind that my Christmas knitting will most definitely not be done in time for Christmas. (Did I mention that, guys? No? I’m glad you’re so understanding.)
6. A boss who burns me Yeah Yeah Yeahs cds, and always lets me look at pictures of his baby.
7. My mom, who doesn’t mind that sometimes my face looks like this:
8. My dad, who wears the hand-knit hat that would have been an orphan, even though he prefers polar fleece.
9. My brother, even if he doesn’t appreciate when I say things like, “Don’t walk too close to me. I don’t want you ruining my chances with the men in Target in case they think you’re my boyfriend.”
10. And most recently, I’m thankful for a boy who has kept me laughing until it hurts for each of the last 30 days.
11. And finally, I thankful my father has a camera, and agreed to take pictures of knitwear tomorrow, so I can finally show you what I’ve been working on.
I hope everyone had a lovely Thanksgiving!
“He caught the color of what was passing about him, and threw it back more vividly than he received it, but mixed, nevertheless, with a lurid and portentous hue.”
– Nathaniel Hawthorne, The House of the Seven Gables
This week is Read-House-of-Seven-Gables-Until-My-Eyeballs-Fall-Out Week. Yay!!! I wish I had thought to make celebratory t-shirts. I was all set to start reading, by which I mean get in bed with the book and hope I didn’t get distracted by anything (read: everything), when I decided to make tea. And I don’t even really like tea, which is how hard I was looking for things to do that weren’t reading. Then I realized that my clearance jaguar coffee mug from Urban Outfitters TOTALLY matched my clearance tank top from Old Navy (which does not have a jaguar, but you know, same colors. Shut up. I’m bad at being a girl).
At which point the evening went downhill. Because I was so excited by not only my reduced price shopping skills, but also my matching abilities, that I had to take a crack-ass web cam picture to document said skills.
I just realized how little of my shirt is actually in this picture. Whatever. Read previous post to learn about my poor photography skills.
I bought the shirt because it matches a cardigan I already have, so you can just imagine my excitement when I found it also matched my mug.
Then I started playing with the effects on Photobooth, which I should have recognized as a poor use of time because it doesn’t even document the colors. Which is, you know, the entire point.
Then I realized that if I didn’t start reading soon, I would fail college. So I had to quit taking pictures of my mug. Which made me feel like this:
**Disclaimer: I promise I’m actually smart.
**Disclaimer for my parents: There was no tea in the cup at the time I took this picture. Therefore, no spilling for which there is no warranty could have occurred. Also, both shirt and mug were inexpensive and will in no way impede my ability to pay for college next year.
You know how people are always like, “Damn kids these days, can’t do math without a calculator”? Did you know there are also people who like to go to party stores, let the cashier ring all of their items, hand the cashier a twenty dollar bill, then once she starts counting out the change, give her a handful of pennies and nickels and say, “I have the change”?
Because people like that exist.
I’m willing to believe that some customers are honestly just trying to be helpful. As in, “oh, now she’ll have to count out less change.” But there are some people (and I won’t name names, if for no other reason than the fact that I don’t know his name), who do it for purely malicious purposes.
In the event that you were this kind of person, this might be your though process:
1. Enter party store at 8:55 pm with a pregnant woman. Woman is significantly younger than you, so party store employees start to hope you were not the one to impregnate her, as that would be icky.
2. Flagrantly ignore the sign on the door that says store closes at 9:00 pm. Know that party store has strict guidelines for employees that they must not ask customers to leave, no matter how late it is. You are more than a customer. You are a “party guest.” Decide this rule can only work to your advantage, as you are a bad person.
3. Watch pregnant woman terrorize balloon girl about baby shower balloons for 20 minutes. Yell at pregnant woman to hurry up. Yell at balloon girl for being out of the balloon the pregnant woman wants. Make balloon girl cry. Do not feel badly about this, as you are a bad person.
4. Ask the cashier if store carries chocolate making supplies. When she takes you to that aisle, yell at her that this was not what you were talking about. Do not explain further, when prompted. Continue to yell about how your friend Tonya bought the very thing you want in this very store, and how can the store no longer carry it.
5. Check out. Notice cashier is holding her breath, as she is afraid you will yell at her. Do not feel bad about this, as you are a bad person.
6. Give cashier a twenty. As she is counting your change, hand her several nickels and pennies. Watch her squirm. Do not understand that she goes to a liberal arts college where she hasn’t had to do math in years, and even though she knows this is not a good excuse, there is still a lot of pressure on her from you and her manager and herself to give you the right amount of change even though the amount you just handed her does not even make sense in the context of the amount you owe!
7. Yell at cashier that she owes you another dollar. Look at her in rage while she tries to explain to you why she does not owe you a dollar. Do not act impressed that she is doing math ON PAPER to show to you (if only because she can’t find the calculator when she needs it most). Laugh when she ends up being wrong, even though you know she is dying inside, because OF COURSE you would be right, as you are a bad person, and there is no winning against bad people.
8. Notice cashier is not longer pretending to be pleased to wait on you. Ask if she is mad at you. Smile smugly when she says, “I’m not mad. Because you’re right.” As you are a bad person. Then have the audacity to say, “See, you rely on the cash register too much.”
9. On your way out of the store, smile at cashier and say, “You can go home now.” Do not care how much cashier and balloon girl wish they were allowed to yell at you, as it is now 9:30, and they are supposed to be at home watching The Soup by now. Well, the cashier at least. The cashier can’t speak for what the balloon girl does when she get out of work.
The thing is, I know how incredibly awful it is that I freeze up whenever I have to count change without the cash register telling me what to do. Because I know how to do math. I’m just very out of practice, and there’s so much pressure to do it right and do it quickly, all without looking like an idiot. Which is almost impossible. And every time it happens, it makes me want to hide behind the balloon counter and repeat my SAT scores to myself over and over again (which, admittedly, is only helpful if I give my total SAT score, not just my math one. My math score was just okay).
Here’s some concrete proof that I have some math skills:
An Equation About The Freshmen 15
W = Current Weight
S = Starting Weight
C = Pounds that I blame on being in College
B = Pounds that I blame on a Break-up that I used as an excuse to “stress eat” for 6 months
W-S = C+B
C+B = 13
(Which, coincidentally, is 2 under par for the Freshmen 15. My golf-playing not-so-little brother tells me that this is called an Eagle. That makes gaining 13 pounds seem awesome.)
Let’s call (C+B=13) U, for Uh-Oh.
G = Pounds lost after I started going to the Gym when I realized that 13 pounds is still 13 pounds regardless of if it is less than expected for a college student
H = Pounds lost after I continued to go to the gym once I realized my Hot literature teacher also went to the gym
P = Pounds lost when I got my Party store job back, and started working six hour shifts that involved running around, instead of just sitting at a computer doing database management all day
U-G-H-P = 6
This equation is called O, for Oh Well.
Which is still a positive number, but the most important part of this equation is to remember that I don’t care about those 6 pounds, because a good amount of those 6 pounds went straight to my boobs. And that stands for A, for Awesome.
Inexplicably, I hate taking and uploading pictures to my computer. It’s shouldn’t be that difficult, but whenever I have to, I find a thousand other things to do instead. For example, while I should be taking and uploading pictures of the pair of gloves I knit, so they can be sent off to their recipient in Minnesota (because, from what I hear about the Mid-West from my Wisconsian roommate, she’ll be needing them sooner than later), I decided to use my time to try to understand the different purposes of Adobe inDesign and Illustrator. The verdict is that I still don’t know, but I did draw a lumpy picture of a cat:
As you can probably tell, I have no idea how color works on Illustrator, and I feel lucky that even parts of the cat are colored in. Oh, and that’s a sun. Because it’s a nice day. Obviously.