Merry Christmas Ladies!

When you get tired of the family and Uncle Mike's nasty sweater, get on this website and make your own...

http://weloveholidaysweaters.wehatesheep.com/

BOK BOK BOK!

IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY WHAT A GREAT DAY FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY
BOK BOK BOK!

Ass... Flaming

First, let me just say that I am a stone-cold FOX today, ladies. It's rare, but it does happen occasionally and, when it does, I'm not afraid to declare it. As my and Jenny's friend "Funky Cold Mawiah" used to say, "I look cute today." My hair defies description, it looks so fabulous... people in the coffee shop were staring after I walked in, and I know it was because of this hair. If I weren't in a terribly public place I would SO photobooth my picture right now and post it. *SIGH*

But this post isn't meant to be drenched in vanity. When I said "ass... flaming," it wasn't because I'm smokin' hot (though, I have to say....).

There's that expression, "Lit a fire under my/his/her ass." Last Thursday, when Moonracer presented my Magic Bottle and said he wanted to have a dissertation he could brag about and that mine would be a "quite distinguished one," THAT was lighting a fire under my ass. Yesterday, he skipped ahead and actually lit my ass ON FIRE... when he said he was actually contacting the Grand Poobah so they can SET the date for my dissertation Defense. Today he said it will be no later than April 30th.

He also said that, if I fail to finish on time, he will ship me off to Central Asia. Exile. The place he thinks I will be farthest from communication with the outside world. My dad's response to this? "You'd better hope he does that before we have the opportunity to shoot you."

Where's the nearest burn unit?

Flight of the Conchords

Ladies...it's business time.

oh!

Ladies, I may be one of the last people ti learn about this website, www.pandora.com, but I had to tell you about it if you don't know about it. I went after reading today's Doonesbury. It's amazingly fun if you like music, and I know you all do. and it's free. oh yeah, free.

go, go now.

and also I have sprained my ankle for the 5th time. yeah, good times.

Why I will not ever be a children's librarian

So...I was called 'unethical' by several of my archives classmates because I referred to 7th graders as having "little hands" and being "squirrely" in nature. The people in the class complained about the code of ethics blah blah blah. Look fact of the matter, I'm not a fan of kids. I'm not unethical, I'm just mean.

Happy Turkey Day!

TRAPPED pt. 3

I applied for a job at Northwestern U today too. It seemed like the thing to do. Mostly b/c I really can't see m yself at this job much longer. It pains me tro come in most days. But isn't that what work is supposed to be?

TRAPPED pt. 2

Why did they give me a laptop to play with during this meeting? All it does is temp me to do live blogging, like I'm a secret operative or something....

Why I'm Wicked Intelligent

I will admit that THIS gave me a bit of a self esteem boost today.

And provided me with yet another reason why men should be seeking me out to have their babies.

TRAPPED

trapped in meeting, send help & vodka

Photogenically Challenged

It did not occur to me that people never take normal pictures of me until Laura called tonight, causing me to get out the photo album of the time I went to visit her in St. Louis. Note that in almost all these pictures, you can actually see the demon alcohol that facilitated these scenes.



















And there are more.

Oh, there are more.

I would like to go back to that winery.

Laura

On her skills: "I am a thief and an adulterer...and I know how to dance."

On Jesus: "Jesus was our people."

On dreams: "'Do we have a radio and a straw?'...Yes, we did, so i took the radio and put the straw into the radio somehow and blew into it and it was like morse code and my friend the vampire came to rescue us. But he took his time getting there."

lamest post ever. sorry.

So are we going to meet for mimosas and witty banter again this Thanksgiving?

I'm at work. And all I can think about is mimosas and turkeys. What does that say about my job? What does that say about me? And, perhaps more importantly, what does that say about you?

I'm not so sure about the company you all keep...

When I Became Lame

Once upon a time, I spent most of my time having a lot of fun. Especially during THIS season of year. As a kid, I think we all remember the gleeful enjoyment Halloween brought... when the most stressful part of life was deciding what you were going to dress up as (though this was not terribly stressful for me, as I was often forced to be the same thing two or three years in a row because my family didn't really have much money for such frivolities... "Hello, I'm E.T.... again...").

In college, this time of year meant Hayrides... Delta Zeta hayrides (which involved a "Mystery Date," God help me, and I always knew who it was) and, far more importantly, DELT HAYRIDE. I was reminded of this by a recent post Jenny made on her blog. But there was no Delt Mystery Punch at Delt Hayride. There were only jugs and jugs and jugs of Delt Hard Cider... Delt Hayride was the one night in the live-long year that I didn't mind using Port-a-Potties... and using them frequently.

At WMU, the Goliards had their infamous Halloween parties. The first year I was hit on by a Theology student dressed as Mojo-JoJo (from the Power Puff Girls); the second year I was asked to perform lewd acts with a Flying Monkey who was in an "open marriage." I try not to remember the third year.

So, when did I get to be so lame? When did I start resorting to carving pumpkins alone in my apartment and watching PBS specials on Giant Pumpkin growers? We know when it was... it didn't come with an age, it came with a territory. And now I just have to hope that, when I leave Misery, my lameness will go away and I'll become cool again. Because seriously, I am quickly becoming a LOSER.

Am I the only one who feels this way?

Music, or lack thereof

I love my husband. Lets just start out with that.

I love my husband. But what the hell is this. . . I hesitate to call it "music". . .he put on the stereo??

We're supposed to be doing homework and studying. Who can concentrate with this bizzare orgasm of crap comeing out of the speakers? It's like Kenny G died and his zombie came back with Doug Henning and made this.

I feel like I am either:
1) shopping for furniture
2) shopping for furniture in the early 80's
3) shopping for furniture on a game show

I know he doesn't like, and merely humors me by listening to, a good portion (say 60%) of the music I like. And I respect that everyone has different musical tastes. And I try really hard not to play the Bjork when he's home and have pretty much limited her to my iPod.

But I have never been in an elevator and had someone say "wow this is great, I wonder if I can get this at the music store?" But apparently some one does sell those cds some place, b/c we have at least one.

I love my husband, and would move to South Dakota for him if the need arose. But this music. . .this I cannot do.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JENNY!!!!!

Or, as Boobarella and Wingal sing it:

"It's your birthday, it's your birthday!
What a great day for your birthday!
Bock, Bock, BOCK!!!!!!"

(Imagine us dressed as chickens.)

Have a great birthday!!!! I love you!!! Oh, and your package is in the mail... or will be just as soon as I finish drinking my coffee and hustle over to the post office. Stupid Christopher Columbus and his day of honor...

An argument with Pam

Pam Cooking Spray. All Natural No-Stick Cooking Spray. 100% Olive Oil.

Well let me take a look here. . .I’ll be damned there is a whole nutritional label!? On Pam? The serving size is, let’s see here…”1/3 second spray”

WTF??? A third of a second? Who in the world not only got paid to sit in a lab and work on this, but actually pays attention to this!?!? I mean come on! A third of a second? "OMG how long did you spray that? oh I am going to be soo fat.." Or better yet: Conversations form the Lab

*SCHPRRT*

Nope, too much fat

*SCHPRT*

Still way too much.

*SCHP*

Almost!

*SP*

No, now that is too little

*SCH*

YES! That’s it! Dude we got it! Hey do you think we can do whip-it’s off this?

Oh and by the way, I read the ingredients. It’s not 100% Olive Oil. They also list “Grain Alcohol, Soy Lecithin, and Propellant.” So, wait, if there is grain alcohol in this, can our Muslim friends use it?

Random Observations

Four things are distressing me this Monday morning:

1. No matter how early I get to school, I have still accomplished virtually NOTHING by the time I have to go assist with the Old English class at 1:10.

2. Some anonymous person labeled the picture of Cedric I posted in my cubicle: "Portrait of Gertrude Stein's Cat." And last I checked I was decidedly NOT Gertrude Stein.

3. The smell of the English Department's powdered creamer for the coffee was familiar to me; unfortunately, when I realized a while later that the smell was familiar because it was exactly like the smell of pet store fish food, I had to spit all my coffee back into my mug and try hard to keep breakfast from rejoining me on my desk.

and 4. There's a long-lost member of the "Rat Pack" who sits outside our building every morning, wearing some sort of pin-striped three-piece suit and a fodora, and smoking a cigar. EVERY DAY. He's a GRADUATE STUDENT. Let's face it, what distresses me most about it is that I feel I ought to start dressing like Grace Kelly or Audrey Hepburn or something... I need a shitty printed dress and a vagina hat, clearly. Then when I approach the building he can call me "doll-face" and I can have low self-esteem, overly red lipstick, and a secretarial job.

eharmony safety check-in person

My friend Jenny has a date with someone she met on eHarmony tonight. And I get to be her "check-in" person. This means when she says the safe word I stop smacking her with the cheese wheel...no wait that's with Larry...sorry, no, with Jenny it means that she is to call me and let me know where she is going and when and when she should be back and then she calls me when she gets back so 1) I know she's safe and 2) I can find out all the details from the date. It's like a built in gossip protection. I love it. Also she made me a badge:

A note from BHV

I got a case of wine from Bully Hill today. Upon opening I found an envelope:



Inside the envelope was a wee note and a present. Gee, think they remembered us?

The Raveonettes: Part II

I wanted to post the Raveonettes song below:

A. on my blog

B. followed by this explanatory message

and

C. because it was going to be the soundtrack for my evening. But it's been so long since I started trying (and failing for some reason) to accomplish any of the above that it doesn't really represent my mood anymore. But it's still a good song.

The Ravonettes - Love In A Trash Can

Tequila Thoughts

I feel like the Phantom of the Opera - invisible as I go about tweaking things here and there behind the scenes, wearing a weird half-mask to hide my monstrous visage, yet even with my hideousness able to seduce unassuming buxom young ladies...watch out, Boobarella. You're next.

AHA AHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! (ECHO echo echooooo...)

So, do you all like the title picture? I hope so. I sacrificed for it. I had to make (and drink) an entire margarita all by myself in order to make it happen (wiping flour off brow).

In fact I'm still drinking it...mmm, icy cold, tart margarita not-from-a-mix...end-of-summer...only 97 degrees outside...mmmm.

Also I just climbed out of the Rainbow Star Pool, so my core temperature is nice and chilly.

Someday you all should just come out to Tucson for parties and drinks and warm weather when it's cold everywhere else and I'm too poor to travel (you will conveniently have thought ahead and saved up, of course). It could be a PSSWR Spring Break or something. I'll kick Raphael out and we'll all sack out all over the floor. Boobarella could bring a bunch of Bully Hill wines to crack open on the patio and we could drink margaritas in Mexico, flipping our hair at the vendors who call us "Barbie" as we walk by. Oh, and they will. We could look at saguaros, and barbeque in the backyard, and make fun of Wingal all day long if we wanted to.

It would be alsome.


P.S. If anyone hates the picture, feel free to remove it. Likewise with any of the template changes I happen to make.

2. I am thirty-something. What does this mean for my future in terms of cake?

First, I would like to say that at PSSWR Boobarella promised to help me find a cake-making buddy and clearly it was just an empty promise and she doesn't really love me. :(

But my response to Jenny's topic 2 is:

At 30-something I have given up on cake. I've decided to switch to pie... it's all about the filling, you can be really creative with it (lots of experimentation), and they don't all require baking.

Wait... what am I talking about?

6. I think (name) at work has a dark secret. Conjecture.

Indeed. We have a newish hire, and I will withhold the name b/c god forbid someone here figures out that I am Boobarella & that I post on this blog. Nonetheless, I have a coworker who I believe to be a she-male. That's right I said it, a she-male. She's very tall and has a very deep voice and walks sort of hunched over. Very manish gait. All very disturbing. Especially when she talks about her husband.

8. I have a dark secret. Discuss.

My dark secret is that I love the Brachs Mellowcreme Pumpkins. Not so much the candy corn or any of the other nasty Halloween candy, but my god these pumpkins I cannot be with out. I have only really met one other person who feels as I do, my boss's wife. and so every year I buy her bag when I see them in the store. I swear I could eat the whole thing in one sitting, except that I would probably die from sugar shock.

Topics

I figured I'd better get this blog rolling again since we're all such incredible slackers. God.

Following is a list of possible topics which are coming into my head as we speak. I have stayed away from politics and religion, but as rant topics, they are, of course, always welcome:

1. I will never be a collector of... Elaborate.

2. I am thirty-something. What does this mean for my future in terms of cake? Whatever connotation of the word "cake" you wish to use is acceptable.

3. I still have an urge to stuff (name of nemesis here) in a locker. Elaborate.

4. For our next PSSWR vacation, we should go to... Discuss.

5. I love three things about my pet. Elaborate.

6. I think (name) at work has a dark secret. Conjecture.

7. You bitches are all crazy. Specifically... Elaborate.

8. I have a dark secret. Discuss.

9. My name is really... Reveal.

10. I can come up with better conversation topics than you, obviously. Add them to the list.


Okay. Now someone write an inspired post for me to read at work.

Adventures in Air-Conditioning

So, I don't usually name my a/c units, but now that the one in the livingroom is dead I think he should be named. Hmmm....

Elmer died. Actually, Elmer's been dead for the last two weeks (which makes it even more disgusting that I've left him hanging in the livingroom window). Because I hope to remove myself from Sad Loser, Misery next May/June, I really didn't want to spring $170 for Elmer's replacement. I thought that perhaps I could survive the next month and a half with dead Elmer... but Ma'am Nature isn't cooperating. It's supposed to be over 100 degrees every day this week with equally awful humidity. So Kami and I went in search of... a new Elmer. Lowe's had none. Home Depot had none. Walmart had one that would never fit in my window. Target had one that was $169 and, because I'm cheap, I refused it. KMart had a ton of them but the cheapest was $169 and, as I've already mentioned, I'm cheap. Frustrated and miserable from having to be out in the weather for so long, Kami and I went to Dairy Queen and had enormous chocolate-strawberry sundaes in waffle bowls. Because our mood was greatly improved, we went to Best Buy where they had 8 a/c units, the cheapest one at $115 (but only big enough to cool a room the size of my shoe). The next cheapest was $159, so I just had to suck it up and purchase Elmer II. He has yet to be installed. I'm hoping my Viking friend Eirikr will be able to do the job when he returns to town today or tomorrow.

Anyway, Elmer II having been purchased and it being 9:45 at night, I dropped Kami off at her house and headed to my own... halfway there, my phone rang. "Umm... can you come back here?" Kami asked. I could tell by her voice that something was wrong. As it turned out, something WAS wrong... her back door was open, her diningroom light was on, her attic door was open, and her attic light was on. In other words, her house had every appearance of having been broken into. After getting caught behind some drag-racers who were VERY annoyed that people like myself kept coming near them in such a position as would allow us to report them to the police, they sped off and I got to Kami's where we waited for the unusually competent Sad Loser, Misery Po-Po to show up about ten minutes later. They did a walk through, but found nothing (though they commented that she had quite the load of cash on her washer). Then they went to check out the drag-racers I told them about. After checking under all the beds ourselves, I left Kami there freaking out enough to want me (and we all know how high maintenance I am) to stay the night. Um, no. But she didn't want to stay in my dead-Elmer livingroom (not that I blame her), so she called another friend to come over and I returned home to my miserable apartment and my dying-of-starvation cat who, once fed, continued to badger, yell, and swat at me for the next hour as punishment for feeding him a half hour late.

By the way, you will be happy to know that Kami was not bludgeoned to death in her sleep that night. I called to check.

Birth Announcement

On Thursday, August 9, 2007, at approximately 4:36 p.m. Wingal was pleased to deliver into this world a healthy, 41-paged dissertation chapter. The child of her genius--affectionately referred to as "Adam"--is only 3 pages premature, requiring a minor 3-page insertion somewhere near his introduction (the procedure is scheduled to take place early next week, after Mother has recovered sufficiently from the delivery).

In other news, Wingal plans on beginning work on her second child some time later next week. As Mother's gestation periods are unusually short, she hopes to deliver "Benjamin" into the world sometime before the conclusion of this month.

And yes, Wingal's chapters are being named after the 7 backwoodsmen of one of her favorite musicals.... all except for the 8th and final dissertation chapter, whom she intends to name "Fin".

Flight Of The Conchords - Foux Da Fa Fa

Uh. Apparently we should all be watching these guys all the time. I especially like it when he says "pamplemousse," a word which, strangely, I totally remember from high school French.

LA TIGRESA DEL ORIENTE-LA ANACONDA

This reminded me of some of you guys. Most of you guys.

my daily laugh

I see this everyday on my way to work. And you know, all it does is make me want to use "awesome" in a sentence.

Dear Sweet Mother of Merlin...

Not to labor over long on the topic of Felicia Nimue, but I have no choice but to share this with you all... Jenny has only ever heard of FNA's oddities, while the rest of us have had the pleasure of witnessing some of them first-hand. My quest was to find a picture of the elusive subterranean lifeform, but instead I found THIS.

Who knew she was so prolific? Who knew her letters to the Editor would kick my ass? (Do read them.)

Who knew she'd been published in PLAYGIRL?

"Michael Bolton" Literally Rears His Head

I was catching up on the Divine Ms. Lisa's LJ and I found the following... so, for those of you who have only heard of "Michael Bolton" and the Congress Dance, I present you with PROOF.

Also, today's bit of hilariously disturbing information: They're making an animated "Ten Commandments." The voice of Moses? Christian Slater. The voice of God? Elliott Gould.

It's official: I want to be a casting director.

Back to BSC

It's no Gay Boys, but somehow I randomly stumbled on a blog that is apparently dedicated to discussion of Claudia's clothing choices in The Babysitters Club. I thought you'd be interested.

And it's weirdly appropriate that I found this today because...

Our first Midnight Margaritas post was unveiled one year ago YESTERDAY! Happy anniversary, biatches! I say we all leave work early and go have a glass of wine to celebrate.

Cheers!

SoM FYI

Just wanted you ladies who may not follow the website done by Boobarella and Wingal's favorite Gay Boys, their superfantastic Musical Mondays the past two have been done for "The Sound of Music." And as EVERYONE knows THAT musical, I'm going to have to insist that you check the posts out. Probably easiest, once you get to the site, to click on "Musical Mondays" on the right side of the page.

I was particularly amused by the phrase: "Before the Baroness has even had a chance to call a cab, the Captain is off to get him some nun."

I'm on Page 133

What page are you on?

Wingal: Pie-maker.

Having an internetifical moment to myself for the first time in a long time, I feel it is appropriate for me to check in with all of you briefly and tell you about my new life mission... I want to make pies.

I want to be the person who shows up with a pie at a party and all the people in the room say to each other in hushed tones, "Oh, Wingal makes the BEST pies" or "Have you ever had one of Wingal's pies?" or "Please God, tell me it's one of her famous chocolate pies" or "Damn her and her fantastic shoes" (all the attention shouldn't actually be on my pies... I don't want them to be the only things I'm known for). This is all the result of seeing the movie "Waitress" with Keri Russell. Admittedly, I went to a movie starring the former Felicity with great trepidation, but I was seriously rewarded for my courage and I have to insist that you all see it just as soon as it hits your local video store. I was mesmerized not only by the numerous pie-making scenes in the film, but also by the creativity-factor involved in pie-making... they can be completely experimental and individual. And she NAMED her pies and we all know how much I love to name things (which is not to say that I'd show up to a party and introduce everyone to my pie, Bertrand Cooper, the Third). Keri's character created pies purely based on her mood and life-experiences (so you can anticipate that one of mine will be called "This Goddamned Dissertation Is Going to Be the Death of Me Pie"), and she sang a song about making pie... a song which was irremoveably carved into my brain and has been playing on repeat ever since.

It's possible, I suppose, that there was some kind of subliminal experiment involved in the making of the movie. Hmmm....

All I know is that I'm going to start making pies. And if you visit me, I'll make one and name it after you.

Boobarella Pie... it's a little like World Music...

Eww! Ryan had sex!!!

Hey guess what!? I'm going to be an aunt!!!!

Another vacation

I'm in need of another vacation. Just a 'quickie" if you will. Maybe a Friday to Monday. Any takers?

PSSWR Photo Album!

Note Greg in the background











Gus













What a Betty!


Rusticana!

PSSWR wrap up

*sigh*

I need to move....

PPPSSSSWWWWRRRRRR!!!!!

Just lettin' y'all know that the MidnightMargarita Girlz are gone to PSSWR!! The Point-Something Sexybitches Winetastic Roadtrip commences tomorrow, June 17 and lasts until June 23rd. We'll be in a cottage on a lake drinking wine and other beverages. We'll also be alternately on the beach, passed out, or playing Dream Phone.

ENVY US.

And for those who were invited but couldn't come, WE MISS YOU! There WILL be future PSSWRs, and we hope you can come to those.

Have a great week, everybody!

Tales From PSSWR, pt. 5

When Wingal returned from her wretched night of forced prostitution, she threw her payment at Boobarella (aka "Pimparella"), stormed out of the room, got on the paddle-boat, and was never seen again.

Tales from PSSWR, pt. 4

Wingal slowly woke up, smiling. The night before at the winery she had met a wonderful hunk of a man who vaguely resembled Gerard Butler. As she rolled over she realized that the wine had worn off and tried to prepare herself for someone less than Butler-esque. She was not, however, prepared for. . .

This is MY goal...

And, I have to say, I would prefer THIS model....



Because, as Boobarella rightly points out, you gotta have goals!
[And I felt we needed some more pictures of... beautiful things on the blog.]