a brief pit stop in my whirlwind world wide tour

okay, let's see how much i can write before my meeting starts. there's lots to write about, to catch up on, mainly because i've been so busy and there's so much to whine and worry about! i've got a meeting in... well, right now. but there's only one person in the conference room. niiiiice. i am now a "business excellence super user". for now, let me just say that that means i have to be in at work on fridays by six friggin am. with a meeting at 6:30. fuuuuuuuun. but at least that means i get to leave earlier, which totally rocks. today though, i'm not really here. i took a vacation day to attend a Transfer Student Orientation Thingy, and, out of the kindness of my heart i decided to show up for the Excellent Super User meeting this morning. (i also showed because i have only the slightest of ideas what's going on and don't want to fall even further out of the loop.) so here i am, its 6:34am, and only two people... scratch that... four people are here. so that means we're missing three other people. plus the ring leader. the king cheese. i'm only here for a half hour before i have to leave for Orientation so i'm really glad my time is being used wisely. oy. ooops. the cheese is here. time to go look like i know what the hell everyone is talking about.

Winged Butt Monkey Syndrome

I haven't spent much time working on my nano-novel this month. Just bits and pieces here and there. Nothing that could even be considered novel-like. Just random bits of thought up-chuck. Sigh. But I'm still determined to finish.

Oh yeah. You read that right. I still think I can finish.

Here's the math: I've only got about 3,000 typed words. And about (optimistically) 1,000 written words. That means I have about 46,000 words left to write in 13 days. 13 DAYS!!!! That means I have to write an average of... *whips out handy dandy computer calculator* ... 3,500 each day in order to reach the 50,000 word count goal by 11:59:00 PM on Nov 30.

Crazy?

Yes.

Fun?

Indeed! In a completely masochistic way, that is. I'm looking at it this way: it will be a test, a mission, in Writing Without Thinking. (Something I believe I can be quite good at, actually. *teehee*.) It will be practice in getting words down on paper when the words just aren't ready to come out (writing constipation). It'll be a game of translating thoughts into words without worrying that the words suck.

Because it all sucks. It will be 50,000 words of complete suck but it won't matter. I wanted it to matter this year, and had hopes of actually writing something that looked like a first draft novel, but that just isn't possible this year. Sigh. So my goal this year, with less than half the month left, is to just get ideas down on paper. I will steal minutes when ever I can and just write write write.

Actually, I probably shouldn't include this weekend in my Average Word Count Calculations because I'll be busy researching (5 source minimum) and writing my 5 page research paper (along with doing the other homework assignments.) It'll take awhile so I should probably start working on it tonight. After I watch the new Harry Potter movie of course. Priorities, priorities, priorities!

As I tried to go to sleep last night I thought about the scene I was writing yesterday. I pictured it in my head like I was watching a movie and tried to figure out what should happen next. And poof, it was happening! The movie was rolling. I knew who my character should talk to next and what she'd learn. And I thought, 'oh yeah, that's pretty cool.' I was going to get up and write it down, but I wasn't sleepy. I figured I'd be able to remember it this morning. Stupid stupid stupid. For the life of me I can't remember what I was thinking of last night. Maybe it'll come to me later and I'll type up my 4,000 words after lunch in a matter of mere minutes and I'll be so on par with my Super Word Count Goal that I'll almost faint with sheer adoration of my awesome self.

Shah! And monkey's might fly out of my butt!

Worst In Class

I came in to work this morning, sat at my desk, and immediately noticed that something was different. There was something new hanging up on my wall! Before I explain the awesomeness of this new addition to my Cubicle Palace let me give you a little background info.

I'm kind of a clutter freak. I like clutter. Clutter makes me happy. Especially when it comes to the walls that I spend a sizeable chuck of time hanging around. Uncluttered nekkid walls just plain bum me out.

The walls of my childhood bedroom were covered to eclectic perfection. It took ten years to get it that way and of course, by the time it reached cluttered perfection it was time for me to move away to college. It didn't take me long though to cover up those ugly stark-ass painted brick dorm walls with stuff. My half of the room (I shared the room with another gal) was almost completely covered in posters, postcards, and pictures cut out of magazines. It was awesome. And it had a very homey feeling to it.

The apartment I live in now isn't very cluttered because I live with a Just-Say-No-To-Clutter boy. It isn't completely clutter free, as I can't exactly erase that particular bad habit, but because I try to be respectful of the HB's anti-clutter upbringing it is relatively clutter-less. At least compared to my natural state of habitation.

In order to find balance in my life I make up for my minor-clutter-home with a very-cluttered work space. The HB actually saw it for the first time last Thursday (as he stopped by during a break from work to take me out to dinner - squee!) and after a quick look he said, "How did I know this is exactly how your desk would look?" He loves my cluttered self, I just know he does. :)

When I worked down stairs, and the wall in front of my desk was a giant glass window, the window was covered in a variety of mini post it notes, as far as the arm could reach. It was very pretty, as long as you didn't pay any attention (and I tried not to) to the Must Not Forget To Do Because They're Important items listed on each note. I didn't have much wall space so I had maybe a cartoon or two pinned up, plus a calendar (with great big X's marking each and every day I no longer had to work that week). I had a tiny desk space, so naturally, since I deal with a lot of paper work, my desk was covered in paper. Not necessarily cluttered on my part, its just the way things were. But now that I've reached the Big Leagues (i.e. relocated closer to the boss because we all laughed too much, apparently enjoying our jobs too god damn much, but luckily one of the guys eventually made it up here too) I've got a BIGGER DESK! And a wall that I can actually stab with push pins. Yay!

And you know what? Now that I have three times the desk space? My desk is still as cluttered as before. How is that possible? I don't have that much more work to worry about. It's as if the clutter intermingled with itself, threw a great paper orgy, then went exploring all the outer reaches of The Great Plane of Deskville.

And to my left, as I sit in my Cubicle Palace, there is a cubicle wall with a carpet covered cork board (the better to stick things to, my dear). I've got all kinds of cartoon pictures and other silly stuff push-pinned to it (maybe one day I'll take a picture of it, and explain ad nauseum what each little piece is). I've also got the occasional work related piece of paper pinned to the wall, you know, to give my work space some shred of credibility. It's not overly cluttered, but I'm working on it. Cluttering is a tricky art to master. It's a slow progress that takes time and dedication. It's added to sporadically, piece by piece, when ever the mood hits me or when something just plain tickles my fancy.

The latest addition to my Cubicle Wall (courtesy of my desk neighbor Sal) is a certificate for Worst In Class Office Space. It's a real certificate, printed on real certificate paper (it has the fancy lacey design border and everything). Under the "Worst In Class" heading is the following message:

Congratulations! You have received this award in recognition of your lack luster efforts at maintaining a clean office space.

Heh heh heh. Then there's my name, and bellow that there's a clip art graphic of a guy either drowning or getting attacked by evil paper work, and beside that there's a great big sun burst with "A 1 MESS" written in the middle. How perfect of an award is that? :)

Sal has more certificate paper and wants to pass out more awards. I think he should make one for Outstanding Achievement in Whining to the guy who is always making mountains out of mole hills. I'm sure we could find a crying baby graphic to add to the bottom. Heh. Oh! And one for Outstanding Cell Phone Ring Tone Office Dancing for the guy (Zack) who breaks out in a little jig (okay, a very BIG jig) every time he hears Girl Across The Hall's never ending voice mail message ring tone that I swear goes off at least every other day. Why she doesn't take her cell phone with her into meetings with her, or at least turn the damn thing off when she leaves it in her office, I have no idea. Maybe we should make her an award too in recognition of her cell phone negligence.

Ahhh... the fun just never stops around here.

Time flies when you're having fun. And when you're so busy you don't even have time to scratch your ass when it itches.

(not that I have an itchy ass, mind you)

Holy shnikeys is it Friday already? This week flew by really fast. I think it only seems that way because I really didn't want it to, you know, because life is funny that way. Because I need more time to do things dammit! If I could have a super power right now I'd pick the ability to stop time. Just like Edie from that 80's tv show Out of This World. I'd just put my fingers together, time would stop, and I'd write the analysis paper and the research paper that are BOTH due next week for school. Then I'd have the rest of today and the weekend to relax and to play and be merry (and run all the errands I kept putting off this week - oy!).

Oh wouldn't it be lov-er-ly. But as it stands, I have no spiffy supernatural abilities. So no time stopping for me. Bummer that.

Things have been crazy hectic here at work this week and I haven't even begun to take on the new responsibilities bequeathed to me from recently departed (i.e. department shifted) Coworker Zack. I haven't even been approached about absorbing his job into mine. Well, at least not "formally". One guy, who's the local head of this... uh... let's call it a Management Task Force (because it makes it sound more interesting than it is)... he asked me last Friday (last FRIDAY!) if someone had talked to me about taking over Zack's M.T.F. duties. I hadn't. (A week later and I still haven't. I guess They figure I don't need it pointed out to me. Why make it obvious? I just might not realize that I'm doing more work for the same pathetic pay). He then asked what I thought about me doing Zack's M.T.F. stuff. My response? "Well, there's really no one else who can do it so by default..." Because really, there isn't anyone. Plus, I am, after all, Super Fabulous In Everything, so even if I say no I'm stuck with it. The guy was all, "Oh, well, I didn't mean to make it sound like you were a last resort or anything..." Not that I was thinking that. It just sucks that Zack's job position was deleted from existence. All because The Newest New Boss wanted to show Corporate that HE'S ALREADY SAVING MONEY!

Anywhoo... the Head M.T.F. guy said he'd talk to my boss and my boss's boss (The Newest New Boss) about talking to me about it. And here we are, a week later, and we still haven't had "The Talk". Probably because my boss is on vacation this week. Which, incidentally, I found out from another coworker after the boss didn't show up to our weekly meeting on monday. Gee, thanks boss for telling us ahead of time that you weren't going to be here. Aaaaagggghhh!

I've been getting sick of working at this place for awhile now and this week is just a prime example of why. I really need a job where I don't work in a corporate world. It's just not me. No one will bother to talk to me about doing Zack's job, not even a quick "hey, we're going to need you to sit in on these calls and start setting these things up" as they pass by the cubicle, so when They wonder why I'm not doing it I'll mention the fact that I'm not getting paid to do his job, let alone his and mine. Hell, I'm not even getting paid to do my job. Filthy cheap bastards. Grrrrrr!

I need to get a sound bite from Jerry Maguire on my computer here at work so that when a boss talks to me about doing M.T.F. stuff I can just click a button and "SHOW ME THE MONEY" will blare out of my dinky pc speakers. Oh yeah, that sounds like a plan.

Speaking of being sick of this place, I wonder if I can use that as an excuse for going home 'sick' today. "Can I go home early Mr. Boss? I'm feeling sick. Sick of work." The HB tried to talk me into calling in sick today, but I couldn't, because I had some things that really had to get done this morning. And I knew that if I called in sick I'd feel guilty all day about it, which would totally ruin the whole wonderful feeling of not being at work on a work day. But the things I HAVE to do are few today, so I can get them done quickly. My immediate boss isn't here (vacation and all) so I don't know if I should just leave or if I should tell someone. Should I ask the Boss's Boss? Would he even care? When I asked the Previous Boss's Boss if I could leave early he looked at me weird in a 'what the hell are you asking me for' way. I just wanted someone to know I was leaving. Seemed like the right thing to do, you know? But maybe this time I'll just leave. Slip out when the Boss's Boss is busy out on the floor or something. There's hardly anyone here today, its not like it will matter either way. And you know what? Even if he takes offense to it and decides to give me a write up for it (even when NO ONE gets written up around here for some reason) I could really care less. Which, I guess, is why I need the rest of the day off!

Cashing in my Do Over card

Last night I went to a write-in to write with fellow NaNoWriMo-ers. I didn't get off to a good start this year - I was very indecisive on what to write about and didn't start writing until the 2nd. And when I did write I got about 300 words of background information, nothing I could really use for a story. So I thought that the self-imposed mandatory writing period would be good for me. I'd finally sit down and focus on the story, because to do anything else (besides the occasional writer chatter and coffee sips) would be a waste of time. It was, after all, a half hour's drive out of my way. (It actually took an HOUR to get to the coffee shop because of frelling traffic! Ugh!)

I was at the coffee shop for three hours. In the first hour and a half I wrote about a thousand words. Not too shabby but no where near where I needed to be at. Especially since I'd just written two versions of an opening scene, one with my old Main Character and another with the Slightly Modified Main Character I'd suddenly decided was necessary in the second hour. I liked the change but I still wasn't happy about the story as a whole. I spent the next hour and a half complaining about it by writing up a very whiny woe-is-me-I-suck-so-much blog post (which I deleted before ever posting). At the end of the un-posted rant I came to the conclusion that I should change my story topic completely. Ditch the old and come up with something new. I felt better when I reached that decision, even though that meant starting at Word Count Zero on Day 4. I also had no idea what I was going to write about next. But I had faith I'd figure it out.

My faith was rewarded quickly enough. This morning, inspiration hit. I was in the shower, where a LOT of good ideas hit me (I swear, I think I should call my muse Moaning Myrtle because she always shows up when I'm in the bathroom). The new and improved story idea is a combination of the very first idea that I had, that I thought was so frigging' brilliant until I looked at it closely, and the latest idea I had, the one I was struggling with at yesterday's write-in. And this new idea? I'm totally in love with it. I think it'll be a blast to write. And at this point, that's all I'm looking for; something I'll enjoy spending time with for the next 26 days.

I did a bit of research earlier today. I'm letting it all stir about in my head for now. Then tonight, when I have a couple hours all to myself, I'm going to write like some kind of crazy writing machine. Well, after I do a bit of homework that is. Then the writing is on! And tomorrow, after a brief jaunt to the school library to research an upcoming paper I'm heading to another write-in. Hopefully the next one will be more fruitful. I'll be bringing my homework with me though, just in case it isn't. :)

By the end of the weekend, if I want to be on par word count wise, I should have 10,000 words written. That means, to be caught up I'll have to write more than 3,300 words over the next three days. Eek! This will certainly be an interesting weekend.

Days left of NaNoWriMo: 25.5
Total Novel Word Count: 0 (but its a happy zero. for now, at least. heh)

Stress: The confusion created when one's mind overrides the body's desire to beat or choke the living shit out of some a-hole who desperately needs it

That's one of my favorite quotes. And fitting, since the last couple of days have been sprinkled with stress. The HB woke up Saturday to a frantic phone call from his mom. His aunt, who lives in Mexico, got a phone call from someone claiming to be the HB saying that he'd been arrested at the border trying to smuggle stolen goods and he needed money now now NOW! The aunt panicked and was about to drop off the money wherever the Fake HB said he needed it, but her husband calmed her down and told her to call her sister (the HB's mom) first. So the aunt called the HB's mom in a panic, which made the mom panic, and she called the HB all in a panic wondering where he was. First, hearing his mom in a panic stressed the HB out. Then, after the HB calmed her down and assured her he was safe and sound at home he began to panic even more. Because obviously someone knew enough about him to know his full name and somehow connected him to his aunt. Since they have different last names, she being his mom's sister and all, it isn't just an A to B connection. There's not much he could do, but he did report it to the border patrol. The Border Patrol Guy said he's heard of four other cases recently, of people pretending to be relatives in trouble, trying to extort money from them. Couldn't these guys just rob a bank or something? It seems like it would be a lot less work than tracking down relatives of victims that live in other countries.

Anywhoo... I stressed a little bit about making these hipster PDA's (full of writing tips and help sheets) for my fellowNaNoWriMo-ers. It wasn't a big Family Crisis Stress, thank the stars, but it was a Last Minute Rush Stress, and that type of stress can be tiring. It was a fun stress, though, and I really enjoyed making them. I still didn't know what I was going to write my novel about, but after meeting up with fellow NaNoWriMo-ers later that day, and hearing that I wasn't the only one who still didn't know what to write about, I felt better. I felt just a little stressed over the fact that I HAD NO FREAKING CLUE what to write about. Sigh. But it was okay, because I still had a couple of days to think about it. No need to stress.

Sunday was full of homework and... what the hell did I do Sunday? I watched tv (including a three hour made-for-tv movie about Lord Byron) and... a bit of homework and... sheesh, I think that was it. Well, at least until later that night. The HB got off of work early (yeah!) and we went out to the Sizzler for dinner. When we first moved here, about five years ago, we went to this Sizzler and it was AWFUL. Hadn't been to a Sizzler since, but I was feeling adventurous (re: we couldn't make up our minds and I was tired of driving around aimlessly). The food was good. But the food was evil too. I think the shrimps tried to take me out of commission for awhile. They didn't "revolt" (if you catch my not-too-gross drift) but I did spend the next couple of hours feeling like crap on a stick. Bleagh.

Then Monday rolled around and I STILL had NO idea what my novel was going to be about. And I was starting to stress over it. But then, in a matter of minutes, something more important to stress about came along. We're over staffed on my team here at work but for the moment, and for at least another six months, every person is needed. Unfortunately the new boss doesn't see it that way. I don't think he really knows the magnitude of all the crap we need to do for this big Corporate Cookie Cutter Makeover we're gearing up for. So early yesterday morning, just minutes after walking in the door, I heard the new boss (my boss's boss) is getting rid of one of the positions on my team. And the way They think around here, if the position is gone, so is the person who filled it. Never mind that the guy's the most qualified and the biggest asset to the team. His position is gone and so is he. It's asinine I tell ya! The guy is still here though so I don't know how soon the job will be absorbed by the rest of us. I'm a little lot worried because out of all of us, if they decided to keep that guy on and reshuffle everyone else, I could DEFINITELY be out of here. I really could. I know it and it really stresses me out. The other guy that could go, that should go, is the guy that is retiring next year. He hit retiring age a couple of years ago but he has four ex-wives and an expensive model car restoring hobby to support. He says he's going to retire next year, but he's been saying that for a couple of years now, so who knows. But if he is going to retire in a few months, then They keep that other guy on, working on all this work we have to do, until a spot opens. Then voila! Problem solved! It's either that or we loose someone valuable when we have so much work to do on a deadline that we either hire temps or work buttloads of over time. So if this is a money saver issue to make the new boss look good its going to backfire in his big stupid face. Grrrrrrr!!!!!! The guy hasn't been let go yet, so really, I have no idea what the hell is going on around here. And I'm too busy venting to find out. Heh. But I know I could be "let go" at the drop of a hat. Stress!

That brings us to today. The first day of NaNoWriMo. The first day of writing my Next Great Suckfest of a Novel. And I STILL have no idea what I'm going to write about. Well, I have several, and that's the problem. I have several ideas, but when I delve a little deeper into them I realize they're not going to work. I was thinking about two different ideas yesterday, then got the brilliant brainstorm to combine the two into one story. So I'm going to write out an outline of sorts today, a little summary of what the story is about, and see if its something I can ramble on about for 50,000 words. If it its, I'll use those words toward my word count. But I'm going to try and not stress about it because its not worth stressing over. Besides, last year I changed story ideas about four days into the month and still managed to reach 50,000 words. So it can be done. And it will be fun. And I WILL write an AWESOME story about... something. Positive thinking, here I come!

Total Number of Words Written So Far Today: 1,259 (sweeeeeet!)
Number of Words Written That Are For The NaNoNovel and NOT the Blog: 0 (crap balls!)

Maybe I can use some of these for that '100 Things About Me' list I'll probably never write.

I found this at Judy's.

1) My uncle once: told me and a friend a story about the "troll" that lived under the bridge we were walking across. We stopped for a bit and peered over the railing. My uncle pointed to some lemons on the ground and said they were troll boogers. Me and my friend laughed appropriately. Then he pointed to a large puddle of rain water and said it was troll pee. Me and my friend giggled incessantly. It was a nice, quiet, peaceful day. We were out in nature, everything was quiet except for my uncle, who was explaining more about the "troll", when all of a sudden someone walked out from under the bridge. My and my friend jumped away from the railing and screamed like little girls. No, we didn't think it was an actualtroll. It was just... really unexpected. My uncle laughed all the way back to camp. Sigh. I truly adore my uncle. :)
2) Never again in my life: will I see that ugly green shag carpeting (that was so in vogue when the house was built in the 70s) that I lived with for about ten years. My parent's are finally remodeling!
3) When I was five: I was the kid in kindergarten who talked funny (because of the accent, not a lisp).
4) High School was: fun.
5) I will never forget: the time me and my brother were laughing SO HARD my mom wouldn't let us until our grandparent's house until we calmed down. On the drive there, my brother grabbed the straw from his mini-mart drink, put one end in his mouth and put the other end up his nose. Then he said, "Look! I'm air conditioning my boogers!" And oh my goodness I almost snorted soda out my nose it was SO funny. I giggled, then he giggled, which made me giggle more and... well, the giggling was like some unstoppable monster. The more we giggled the funnier it became. We were getting on Mom's nerves, of course, and she told us to try and calm down. Which we did, for a bit. Then we looked at each other and the giggles started all over again. When we got to the grandparent's house my brother and I got out of the car and collapsed on the front lawn, free from those giggle restraining seat belts, and had us some good hearty laughs. It was INCREDIBLEY fun. So when the laughter started to die down I said "you were *gasp gasp* air conditioning *gasp* your BOOGERS!" and we'd roll on the ground some more in helpless fits of giggles. It's a memory I treasure dearly.
6) I once met: Princess Diana... for like, a minute, and don't remember it. But it still counts dammit!
7) There's this girl I know who: once got a bunch of stitches from playing an innocent game of Red Rover.
8) Once, at a bar: I wore an incredibly see-thru blouse. Totally out of necessity, believe me. (not so long a story, but a boring one.)
9) By noon I'm usually: (if at work) wishing I could go home.
10) Last night I: stayed up working on some possible goodie bag ideas for my NaNoWriMo group. The HB got off work early enough and I was up late enough that we were able to hang out for a bit. We made a Taco Bell run and watched an episode of The Family Guy. Good stuff. :)
11) If I had only: hung out with Friends Group B instead of Friends Group C at Magic Mountain that one time I would have seen Patrick Stewart getting on the Colossus.
12) Next time I go to church: I'll probably be hanging out with Z.
13) What worries me most: is that I don't worry enough about things I should worry about.
14) When I turn my head right, I see: some guy speaking in French talking on the phone to his cronies back in europe, probably talking about how bad our company sucks. Either that, or how STUNNING I look in my new glasses. ROWR!
15) When I turn my head left, I see: the Halloween decoration I made at work (it’s a ghost made out of crumpled up paper from the To Be Recycled pile (for the head) and a plastic bag from AM/PM (for the ghostie skin) and some black-sharpied-paper-circles taped on for eyes.) If only I had a camera, you'd see how bitchin' my ghostie is.
16) You know I'm lying when: jumble up my sentences... no wait, I do that all the time. Okay then, how about when I say something stupid... no wait, I do that all the time too. Okay, um... oh, if I'm trying to pull a joke over on you, and I'm making something up, I won't be able to keep a straight face for very long. My "poker face" needs a lot of work.
17) You know what I miss most about the eighties?: well, I was too young to enjoy most of the 80s, or even remember the first half of the 80s. But I do kinda miss my She-Ra dolls.
18) If I was a character written by Shakespeare, I'd be: one of Titania's faeries.
19) By this time, next year: I'll still be in school. And once again anticipating NaNoWriMo.
20) A better name for me would be: Shalee-Koyna. It means Chick Who Rocks The Dorkness in gibberese.
21) I have a hard time understanding: how people can be so close-minded and intolerant towards others.
22) If I ever go back to school I'll: be getting my second degree (currently working on the first). I'd get the degree in... interpretive shadow puppets.
23) You know I like you if: I refrain from calling you a moron (or worse) to your face. If that's too subtle I sometimes wear "I like you" shirts. And if that doesn't work I get my pal Erol, the God of Like, to shoot friendly like-nerf-darts at your head.
24) If I won an award, the first person I'd thank would be: my parents. Unless, of course, the award was for Best Newcummer In An Adult Film or something like that. Then I'd thank my boob and lipo doctor.
25) Darwin, Mozart, Slim Pickens & Geraldine Ferarro are: stupid names for rock bands?
26) Take my advice, never: take my advice. Except for this one time, of course. Any other time? Trust me, I don't know what the hell I'm talking about.
27) My ideal breakfast is: one I don't have to cook.
28) A song I love, but do not have is: Nothin' 'Bout Love Makes Sense by LeAnn Rimes. It's cute and fun to sing and I love it to pieces. Every time I hear this song (which isn't often enough) I think about buying the CD. Since I don't buy many CD's any more I usually like to buy them for several songs, not just one. But for this song I think I'd make an exception. Plus, I'm sure I'd like most, if not all of the other songs on the CD.
29) If you visit my hometown, I suggest: you get your head examined. No wait... I'm sure there's something fun to do in P-ville... um... you could go to the Barn Theatre. I heard Ann B. David (The Brady Bunch's Alice) used to perform there back in the day. And I think there's some historical shit you could look at, though in all the fifteen years or so that I lived there I never went and saw any of that stuff. So if you visit my hometown, let me know, and maybe we can go museum hopping together. Oh! And I could give you a tour of my high school. The home of all my infamous glory. Heh. "And over there is where I ate lunch with my friends every single day. And over there is where this one kid got dumped in a trash can this one time. And over here is where I tripped and fell in front of the ENTIRE school! Oh oh oh, and this is the classroom where my English teacher told me she has actual conversations with trees." Ahh... good stuff.
30) Why won't anyone: watch Arrested Development? That show is hilarious!
31) If you spend the night at my house, DO: let me know where its at so I can move out of this damn apartment. (If you spend the night at my apartment, DO mind the broken couch, Hawaiian Punch stained carpet, and the HB's underwear in the bathroom that he didn't put in the clothes hamper AGAIN.)
32) I'd stop my wedding for: a death in the family. Or Barbara Streisand. You know, in case she was going to go on tour or something and needed a background singer. I'm here for you Babs!
33) The world could do without: close-minded blowhards who thinking their way is the only way so screw everyone else.
34) I'd rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: lick its ass.
35) My favorite blonde is: Z, my BBBF!
36) Paperclips are more useful than: my left butt cheek.
37) San Diego means: that place me and my teammates went to for a night of fun during Christmas Break Hell Week training; it's also the place I went to that one time with family and friends and don't really remember but I think we went to SeaWorld; and it's that place I went to for that on-base army wedding that one time; and it's that place that my brother used live (that turned into a disaster); and it's a place I'd like to go some time and spend some quality time exploring so that I have something better to list the next time I fill one of these things out.
38) And by the way: I'm not wearing any pan-ties. (I have no idea why Eartha Kitt's voice just popped into my head for this one. You know... from the movie Boomerang. "Marcus darrrrrrling..." No? Anyone?)

These new glasses don't help much with hand-eye coordination.

So many new things are going on and I haven't had the chance to share. Like, holyfriggincow I've got GLASSES! And I've volunteered to be a Municipal Liaison for my fellow regional NaNoWriMo-ers! And I'm surrounded by shifty foreigners at work who never let me make personal phone calls or play on the internet!

Both personal phone calling and internet playing are important requirements of the ML position. By play on internet I mean moderate my regional NaNoWriMo message board, post info on the Kickoff party, etc. It's surprisingly time consuming (and I'm not even doing that good of a job!). I'm also finding all kinds of spiffy cool writer stuff in the ML boards (hand made handbooks, help sheets, character name generators, etc.). I'm like a kid in the candy store. A very busy kid who only has time to ooh and ahh and drool at the candies behind the glass counters but doesn't have time to eat any of them. Sigh.

Last weekend was a busy weekend (well, Sunday was busy) and it's been a busy week so far. In fact, I'm sooooo busy I thought I'd dump water all over my heavily paper-strewn desk. Oy to the vey! It wasn't too bad. I only lost three post-it notes and two sheets of paper that were destined for the recycle bin later today anyway. The computer got a little wet but I think its fine.

Sigh. I'm going to try and post more later (I haven't posted in almost a week! *GASP*) but right now I'm overdue for a lunch break. And damn if there aren't still freaking donuts and muffins sitting on the ledge above my desk. Maybe I'll be dining on fiber this fine afternoon...

Birthday Hell - 50 Word Fiction Fridays Vol. 29

Birthday Hell

I unwrap the box with frantic fingers. Grammy always buys the best birthday presents! My friends sit nearby, eagerly watching the birthday ritual. I yank the lid right off and... oh no. Grammy bought me underwear?! The girls giggle, the boys stare at their feet, and I pray for invisibility.

The 50 Word Fiction Friday theme this week is: birthdays.

Another bit of Friday Fiction based on past experiences. I was in the first or second grade. Several girl and boy classmates were there. So were my grandparents. And the underwear? They were cute little silky Days-Of-The-Week panties. Very snazzy.

My grandma, who'd brought a couple of presents with her, meant to give the underwear box to my mom so it could be hidden. To be opened later. When my friends weren't around. My boy friends. Gah! I was sooooooooooo embarrassed. I mean, if I'm gonna show a boy my panties I want to be the one who picks the time and place. Not my grandmother!

My brother made it worse, as only little brothers can. He's younger than me so he would have been about four or five years old at the time. (Very impatient years those are.) As he'd been sitting on the floor, where his eyes were lower than everyone else's, he hadn't seen what everyone else had seen. And he really wanted to know if it was another toy. He didn't get why I didn't showcase it like I showed off every other present I got. "What was it? I didn't get to see it! What's so funny? What was it?"

Mom quickly handed me another present and the birthday party continued with no further hiccups or embarrassingly personal gifts. I don't remember much else from that day, but that particular moment in time, all those many years ago, will remain with me for a long, long time.

Praying at the Altar of The Almighty Sugar Rush

O, I pray thee Mother of the cookies sweet,
Of these circus animals white and pink,
Infuse these sprinkled cookies with energy
So that they may, in their noble sacrifice,
Fuel me with the power to complete my homework assignment in the next two hours.
Amen


All I can do, it seems, is NOT work on these damn journal assignments. And frankly, the cookies aren't working as well as I'd hoped. Dammit. Maybe its because I only bought one bag from the vending machine. Hmmmm.... I was able to get a hold of the HB and he emailed me the file I needed. So at least I'm not starting over from scratch. Sigh. Okay, now I'm ready to finish the homework. Right after I sacrifice another pink elephant that is. Mmmmmmmm.

A line of head lickers vs the power of the Mega Slap

Would you rather...

1. have a head that looks like a lollipop OR hands that are three times their normal size?

Oooh. This one's a toughie. The ginormous hands would be awesome because then I could really slap these asshats at work around a bit.

But I think I'd rather have a head that looks like a lollipop.

Because I want people to want to lick my head.

"Excuse me miss, but can I lick your head? Pretty please?????"

"Of course you can Mr. McConaughey. Here, take a number and enjoy the wait."

2. have sweat that smells like bacon OR like a flowery air freshener?

Oooooh. Another toughie. Because I love the smell of bacon and hate the smell of flowery air freshener (*gag*). I'm all about accommodating the poor unfortunately souls who might chance upon me in a sweaty state. But there will be people that will smell my sweaty self and appreciate the fact that I smell like a waffle house and some won't. Some people will appreciate the fact that I smell like I get frisky with potpourri and some won't. So, as the wise Ricky Nelson said in his Garden Party song, "you can't please everyone so ya got to please yourself." So, with that logical reasoning I'd choose to sweat bacon odor.

But then this other logical part of me thinks I can deal with the flowery gaggy air freshener smelling sweat because I really don't want to be known as Oinky Bacon Girl. I'd rather smell like cheap flowery grocery store perfume.

3. tell your deepest sexual desire to a complete stranger once a day OR clap your hands in a highschool cheerleader style everytime somebody says "OK"?

The first option would be interesting in a weird time-to-break-out-of-my-shy-shell sort of thing.

But the second option would be F - U - N. So I'd choose the hand clapping thing.

4. dress like elvis at formal functions OR dance like him?

Dance like him! He had some really sexy moves. Especially when his whole body shook like he'd just tongued an electrical fence. Sex-ay!

Sigh (a.k.a. The Post Title Formerly Known As !&%$@&!%#)

I didn't do all of my homework over the weekend. I've read all of the assignments, so I'm all good on that front. I just procrastinated a bit on the journals (due at 7pm tonight - eek!). But you see, I was busy. A highly admirable excuse if I do say so myself.

Saturday I was busy hanging out with the HB. We went out to brunch, which was nice. Then we went shopping at Costco. For those that don't know, Costco is this big warehouse mega store. And its the HB's substitute Disneyland. He friggin loves to shop there. Even if we're there for only one or two items he has to walk up and down Every Single Aisle. And he has to push the cart, because he's 'the man'. It's adorable, really. He also likes to keep a running tally of how much money is in the cart. My job at Costcoland is to be the Shopping List Wench. It has its perks.

After Costco we went home, dropped off the food, then went to CompUSA. Again, we had to walk up and down Every Single Aisle. At the very end of our tour we came to the video game area. I passed the xbox demo game and the play station demo game but paused when I saw the Star Wars PC demo game. The graphics looked pretty bitchin' so I checked it out. Started shooting stormtroopers that were actually on my side, but oh well. Still pretty awesome. I pointed the game out to the HB and I think I actually saw him drool. We were there for at least another fifteen minutes while he played his little Star Wars game. I made a circuit of the entire store twice before I whined. "Can't you buy it and play it at hommmmmmme?" Turns out he couldn't. We have all the PC requirements but one so the game play just wouldn't be the same. Bummer. I felt bad and offered to go hang out at the bookstore at the other side of the parking lot. But no, he didn't want to do that. This was his one day off (he's currently working 6 days a week) and he wanted to spend it with me. Awwwwe.

He also wanted to get a Bob. See, he's been wanting another pet for awhile now. So have I. Sort of. I'd love a little kitty to play with and cuddle with but I really don't want to deal with all the stuff that pet owners have to deal with at the moment. The HB would prefer a dog, but we live in an apartment and that just wouldn't be very nice to trap a dog in an apartment all day long. So a cat it will be. The other day, the HB hinted about getting a cat. About how nice it would be to have the little kitty sitting between us on the couch.

"And we can name it Bob," he said. "And we can-"

I held up my hand and said, "Stop. You had me at 'Bob.' You had me at 'Bob.'"

That pushed me over the 'sort of' edge right into 'pretty much' area of wanting a kitty. A girl kitty. So that we can name her Bob. I love that name!

So as we were leaving CompUSA I asked the HB were he wanted to go next during his Big One Day Off Extravaganza. He said he wanted to find Bob. And while I kind of don't want a Bob right now (I'd actually like to be able to afford all the cool kitty accessories first, like food and stuff) I thought what the heck and caved. We went to PetSmart which was right across the street. And you know what? I girl was trying to get rid of a box full of kitties! I thought, "Is it kismet? Is Bob in that box?" Turns out he wasn't. We looked around PetSmart a bit, looked at all the fancy toys the HB wanted to buy. All I saw was expensive crap. So I wasn't very gung ho about it. On the way out, we looked at the box o' kitties, but then kept on walking. If the HB had picked one up and said, "Here's Bob" I probably would have agreed. Because I would love a little kitty to love. But later, in the car, he said that none of those were Bob. So no Bob for us. Maybe this weekend. The HB just got a HUGE promotion, so maybe I'll buy him a kitty as a Way To Go Big Stud present. Heh.

So that was Saturday. Or most of Saturday. Sunday I did laundry and went clothes shopping. Spent a lot of money. See? This is why I can't afford a kitty. I'm buying clothes! All necessary clothes too. Trust me. If you saw my wardrobe you'd be embarrassed to admit it. It's pathetic. But its getting better.

I was tired Sunday night, but managed to read a bit and write some notes on what I'd write for my first journal/summary/informal page and a half essay. I finished the reading assignment early on yesterday evening. Figured I'd have plenty of time to write up my two journals. No problem-o I thought. But I didn't figure in procrastination time. Sigh. By the time I got around to writing the journals up on the computer my eyes were tired. And the right eye started twitching like a death row inmate in the electric chair. So I figured I'd type up my notes, get the things about half way written, then I'd email them to myself and work on them today at work.

Only problem is I was so tired last night I skipped the whole 'emailing' part of the plan. D'oh! So I have no notes! &%$%^#! All that work for nothing. Grrrrrr. I might try calling the HB around noon. Hopefully he'll be up by then (because he works second shift) so I can ask him to email me my notes. I'm pretty sure I can work on the second journal here at work, but I'd hate to redo the first one. I came up with some really killer sentences in my sleepy daze last night. Sigh. Maybe I'll remember those killer sentences later...

Match Making At Its Finest - 50 Word Fiction Fridays Vol. 28

6 Year Old Match Making Techniques At Its Finest

"Let us out!" my brother yelled from the closet.

"Not until you kiss her!" my friend replied.

"Ewwwwww!" her sister shrieked.

Fifteen minutes and one kiss later they were freed. We threw construction paper confetti and congratulated them on their new marriage. There'd never been such clever kindergartener match makers.

The 50 Word Fiction Friday theme this week is: marriage.

This is another autobiographical FiWoFicFri entry. It seems that this is the only way I can write these sometimes.

When I saw the theme the first thing that popped (practically immediately) into my mind was this time when me and my best friend at the time (kindergarten) married our siblings. As in, my younger brother married her younger sister. The four of us hung out a lot because there weren't many other kids to play with at our apartment complex.

I think there was a closet involved, and some mandatory kissing for the marriage to be valid (we didn't tell them about the ceremony until after the fact, of course), and we might have promised cootie vaccine shots if the kissing proved to be fatal. I'm not sure on the specifics, but I do remember being tickled pink at the thought that they were married. They, however, were less than thrilled. My brother may even have been... oh, what's the word I'm looking for... oh yeah, mortified. Well, as mortified as a four year old can be. My inability to stop saying "You're married! You're married!" probably didn't help. Sheesh, I'm such a bad sister. - *tee hee* - But it was perfect. My best friend's sister and my brother. The marriage didn't last very long though. A couple of months later we moved out of the apartment complex and into a house. Bye-bye next door best friend/sister-in-law.

"There's this game where you put in a dollar and you win four quarters. I win every time!"

Okay. So yesterday I had this zit RIGHT between my eyebrows. And you know what? It hurt like a mother effer. Still does, kind of.

I kept touching it yesterday. I didn't mean to, but I did. For some reason, and I have only myself to blame for this, I haven't yet mastered the superhero power to control the insane itch factor that comes with some zits. Yeah, I know. Shocking. So here's a little bit about how last night went...

*touches zit*

"ouch!"

[ 2 minutes elapse ]

*touches zit*

"ouch!"

[ 2 minutes elapse ]

*touches zit*

"ouchfuckgoddamnit why do I keep touching it!!!!"

*sings to self (to the groovy tune of 'Don't Rock The Boat') "don't touch the zit, don't touch the zit baby"*

[ 10 minutes elapse ] --> progress!

*subconsciously feel itch in the central brain area, ie forehead*

*automatic reactionary impulse to scratch said itch goes into effect*

*realize too late that its just a phantom itch, a clever diversionary tactic the Zit used to trick the hand into touching it.*

"bad zit!"

I don't have any zit cream at home so when I get a zit, I usually leave the fuckers alone, taking a "killing them with kindness" approach. But this one hurt more than usual. And it was RIGHT BETWEEN my eyebrows. And it was a tactical sumbitch. And I didn't want those 'awful kids at school' to call me 'Pus Peak'. So I decided to take matters into my own hands - or fingers actually - and I killed it. I choked it to death. Said sayonara zit bitch. Popped it like wheelie.

I thought that would be it. Done... finito monforito... (hey, it was 5 in the friggin' morning, okay? My brain was still waking up.) ... bye-bye ugly ouchy White Blob of Evil. So I finished getting ready for work and forgot all about it.

Soon after getting in to work though, I'm in the restroom washing my hands, and I can't help but look up and see myself in the mirror. And do you know what do I saw? Nothing but a HUGE red dot RIGHT BETWEEN my eyebrows. Oops. Forgot that could happen. So now I've got a battle wound from the latest Zit Offense. Great. Juuuuuust great.

So I'm standing there, staring at the HUGE BRIGHT red scab on my forehead (it's really not huge at all - objects in paranoid mind are larger than they appear - its just... er... very red), and I think to myself, "Maybe it's not that noticeable."

Hey, it was a lie I was willing to believe, okay? Okay. And besides, if any one did notice, they wouldn't actually say anything about, right? Yeah. That's what I thought. Until, that is, Mr. Desk Neighbor sat down at his desk behind me. I spun around in my chair, asked him a question, and he said, get this,

"I didn't know you were Hindu."

Gasp! Shock! Horror! Bastard!

Sigh.

So I'm thinking I should just pick it off. Because I have to go to school today and all the cool kids are going to be there. Plus, there's still a bunch of people who will get into work soon, and will stop by my desk to say hello. People who will not be able to resist the urge to stare at the BRIGHT red dot on my forehead. If I scratch it off it might scar, sure, but as long as its not a MASSIVE white zit or a BRIGHT red spot I doubt anyone will notice. I'll notice, maybe even obsessively so, but that's just one out of many. That I can deal with. This LOOK AT ME thing on my forehead? Eh... not so much.

So how's your Wednesday going?

To sock or not to sock? That is the chooseday question.

Would you rather...

1. be shot in the thigh with a .357 magnum OR have your thigh sliced with a samurai sword?

When I read the first option my first thought was...

That could be interesting. Painful, yeah, but interesting.

Reading the second option made me cringe.

Oh helllll no!

So I guess I'd rather be shot than sliced.


2. try to take a piece of meat from a mongoose OR have to ride an angry bull?

Um... well... I'm bigger than a mongoose. Smaller than a bull. Way smaller than an angry bull. So I'd rather tussle with the mongoose.


3. wear 10 t-shirts at a time OR five pairs of socks at a time?

I heart t-shirts long time. But ten? Sheesh. Five pairs of socks would be easier.

Because who says I have to wear the socks on my feet? Socks are sooooo much more versatile than t-shirts. I can make really spiffy wrist bands with one pair. And can use one pair as cozies for my pigtails. And the other two pairs can be woven in and out of my belt loops for flair.

Dude. I could totally rock the socks.


4. punch a priest in the nose OR throw a rotten tomato at the president of the united states?

What has a priest ever done to me? Nothing. Thankfully. What has the president ever done to me? Oh, let me count the ways... heh.

No matter who the president is at the time, I think I'd rather throw the tomato. I'm more of a "attack from far away so its easier to run away if things go bad" kind of girl rather than a "in yo face sucka" attacker. I'd probably get on the news with the tomato toss, so that would work out great.

And I'm pretty I'd miss the president if I threw the tomato at him, so it wouldn't cause any damage. The priest though, I'd probably be able to hit that target. Which would hurt me more that it would hurt him. So yeah. The tomato's the way to go!

My yellow fuzzy butt is so cute it'll make your glands explode.

You Are A: Duckling!

The cutest of the cute, these baby ducks are often spotted in the spring following closely behind their mother. As a duckling you will grow up quickly, becoming one of the adult ducks seen commonly in ponds and streams. Playful and timid, charming and vulnerable, ducklings are nature's very definition of innocence.

You were almost a: Frog or a Chipmunk
You are least like a: Puppy or a MouseWhat Cute Animal Are You?

See? I am innocent. Lil' ol' me, innocent as can be. Cutest of the cute with my yellow fuzzy butt.

Heh. Maybe that should be this year's NaNoWriMo novel title. "Me And My Cute Yellow Fuzzy Butt." It would certainly be an interesting set of 50,000 words. :)

Validation To Go - Fifty Word Fiction Friday Vol. 27

The 50 Word Fiction Friday theme this week is: validation.

I started working on this one at work, but didn't have time to finish it, so it sat in my head, taking up space, unfinished. Unrefined. Unflattering like some kind of... unflattering thing that I'd be able to make reference to if I weren't so sleepyhead-out-of-it. Since the following Fifty Word Fiction Friday submission might kinda sorta have some relation to the idea I'm toying with for NaNoWriMo I thought I'd play around with it bit tonight. Well, not just play with - I'm not always a completed-story tease - I actually finished it. Yeah! And I say 'might kinda sorta' about the possible NaNoWriMo story idea because I had this idea, thought it was freakin' perfect, but then after thinking about it a bit this afternoon I began to think that the idea, in fact, sucked royal tushie. But who knows... maybe it will seem like a brilliant idea once again in the morning. Sigh.

I'm not sure I'm making any sense. I usually don't when I feel this loopy. The brain is going, "put me to bed already for Jiminy Glick's sake!" and I'm all, "you're a big girl, you can stay up past 11" and the brain is all, "don't you get sassy with me miss thang or I'll make you bitch slap yourself" and I'm all, "oooooh" because the brain is holding all the really good comebacks hostage. I'd seriously love I to write this year's novel in the middle of the night when I'm totally looped out of my mind. That's when the best stuff comes out. :) Anyway, without further ado and crap like that...

Validation To Go

The reunion was tomorrow and Bob was desperate. His former classmates were out saving entire worlds while the closest he'd gotten to heroic adventure was working the grill at AstroBurgerHut. Bob sighed, then pulled up to the Make-a-Fake drive-thru speaker. He ordered a Newspaper Clipping Glorifying Recent Adventure. Superhero sized.

the fantastical life of me

So get this... I was walking down the street last week when I found this lottery ticket and whadaya know, it was a winner! So I went to the bank on my way to cashing it in because I wanted to make sure the bank could handle all my winnings. And whataya know, as soon as I walked in the door some guy in a ski mask said stick 'em up! I asked for clarification because it was quite chilly in the bank and I was pretty sure I fulfilling all the requirements but the guy in the ski mask didn't seem to be paying any attention to lil' ol' me. Or so I thought. He soon grabbed me by the hair and dragged me into the back room and told me I had the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen. And he asked if he could sketch them really quick. I said sure and didn't even bother to charge him my standard fee because he was having a really bad day, you know. So he stuck his hand down his pants and pulled out a pencil but whadaya know, he couldn't find any paper! So he opened a desk drawer and instead of paper he found a wormhole space portal hidden under a bag of candy corn. It was cool. Until, that is, I was sucked into the portal by its awesomely powerful gravitation suck forces. I landed in some alien disco room and boy was I out of place with my 'Polka will never die' t-shirt on. After hanging with the Hell's Bots from cellblock Alpha 3.2 for a couple of hours I hopped in the U-Turn-Suck-O-Matic machine and went back home. And whadaya know, I think one of those Hell's Bots stole my lottery ticket. Bitches!

What can I say? It's been one hell of an exciting week. :)

But seriously...

I was a little stressed last week. Well, actually, I was mildly stressed about two weekends ago and I carried a smaller version of that stress through most of last week. I had a paper to write, the first paper I'd written in, oh, five years or so, and I was a bit too hard on myself. Why? I don't know. That's just the way I am sometimes. I knew what I was supposed to be doing, how I was supposed to write it, but nothing was working the way it should. And it frustrated the hell out of me. So much so that I actually thought about crying about it. I didn't, because that would have just been silly. I also thought about punting the text book out over my second floor balcony. But I didn't. Because I paid too much goddamn money for that book to cause it any on-purpose toe dents. So I walked away from computer, putting some much needed distance between us. And then I spent all day at work Tuesday finishing it. D'oh! Not the greatest plan in the world, but by then I was in "Ah, fuck it!" mode and just wrote the damn thing. (It was due Tuesday night). I think it turned out all right. The only down side is I felt guilty for doing so little 'work' work at work that I tried to make up for it by working super hard during the rest of the work week. Oy. That cut some serious time into Mandatory Goof Off Time (my sanity at this job depends on at least some small amount of goof off time).

The Mandatory Goof Off Time, as of late, has consisted of crossword puzzles. When I only have a few minutes to pop into internet land that's where I head. To crosswordville. I've become flat out addicted to them! So much so that this last weekend, as I was writing another paper for my other class, I couldn't do any writing until I completed a crossword. I'd write a bit, then I'd get up to pee or watch a half hour of tv (very important study tool) or wash the dishes or something of the sort. When I sat back down at the computer I could NOT do any more writing until I did another damn crossword puzzle. It's like the mind refused to think about anything else until it got its crossword fix.

The creative part of my brain just loves to scoff at deadlines. Sigh.

So I was super stressed two weekends ago, less stressed during the midterm that was two days later (hopefully I found out the grade for both tonight at class *toes crossed*), a lot less stressed during this last paper-writing-weekend (the chill pill I took is working marvelous, thanks for asking). Adding to the stress were these really annoying headaches I've been getting lately. I think they're less 'stress' headaches and more 'holy crap I need glasses I'm blind' headaches. I've been thinking I might need glasses for awhile now, but I've been hoping it was just eye strain from work, something that would go away, eventually, even though the hours spent computer-monitor-ogling hasn't decreased. So now, with the headaches, and the exponentially increasing squinting that's going to give me serious eye wrinkles by the time I'm thirty, especially with all this reading I'm having to do for school, I've decided I need to go see an eye doctor.

[Insert dramatic epiphany music here.]

Now I just have to get around to finding an eye doctor that takes my insurance. And then I have to actually call and make an appointment. And... and... I just don't have time for that right now. Actually, I just can't be bothered with it. Which doesn't make sense, what with all the ouchy headaches, but that's just me. Partly its because every time I remember, hey, I need to find an eye doctor I'm nowhere near the computer (because I need to do my eye doctor research online). And if I am near the computer, like I am now, I have no idea what my health coverage plan thingy is. That information is in the car. Where's its doing a lot of good. Sigh. I'm just too scatterbrained right now to do it. But its on my To Do list. And my To Do list is written in big-ass 'look at me' letters on the dry erase board in my kitchen. So I'm sure I'll get around to it eventually Thursday (when I'm done with classes for the week).

Now, I'm off to sign up for NaNoWriMo because yes, I am a masochist that way. :)

Yes, school was stressing me out, but I'm dealing with it, and coping with it, and everything's peachy. And yes, I have at least one research paper due in the middle of November, and quite possibly another analysis paper due in November as well. Those, of course, will take priority, but they won't fill up all my waking hours. I'll still have some bit of 'Me Time' to write another crappy incomplete novel. Heh. I can't wait until November!!!

(And shit, if I can ramble on like I did here I'll be able to reach my word-count-goal-of-the-day easily!)

Total Word Count of Post (Including Title): 1,215
NaNoWriMo Daily Word Count Goal: 1,667

My black hole said to your black hole, "I'm gonna set your mass on fire!"

You know what I find interesting? When you're in the shower first thing in the morning, and you got less than five hours of sleep the night before, there's this weird time warp thing that happens where it seem to take more than five hours to wash your damn hair.

Or is it just me?

Seriously, I'm not even sure I washed my hair this morning. It's wet, I'll give it that. But clean? Eh.... well... I'm almost pretty sure, but not completely sure. I remember putting the shampoo in my hand. And I'm pretty sure the hand's next destination was my head. I just kind spaced out for a bit. Or several bits. Five hours worth of bits.

I think there's a black hole or some other space/time disturbance in the force in my bathroom. Yeah. That's it.

So let's see here... I've got wet probably-but-not-definitely-washed hair. Did I forget anything else?

Deodorant?

Check!

Brushed teeth?

Check!

Underwear?

Check!

Okay. I think all systems are a go for Operation First Exam Since Being Back At School. That's tonight. At 7pm. Also due at 7pm? My first term paper written as a Return To School student. And its still not done. Eek! But then, that's typical of my term paper writing style. Saving things until the last minute. And strangely enough, more often than not, the later I write the paper, the better grade I get. It's weird. Just like the Shower Black Hole Phenomenon.

Not that I planned it that way this time. With this paper I was going to finish it at least a day early! Yeah. That was the plan. But I ended up writing most of it last night. It just... happened. Against my will. And my better judgment. And.... well, it's a long story full of whiny self tidbits that's best left bottled up inside my psyche and I don't have time for that because holy crap I have to finish writing the damn paper!

You know what? Turns out I'm really out of practice at writing essays. I remember how to do it, its just the actual execution that's a little rusty. Bah! So anyways, the paper is only half done, well, more like 3/4's done. There's just a lot of editing and juggling still to do. Oy. Me thinks I'll be spending every second I can eek out of work on it. Yay!

Like the guy who had the Space Special said: Oh no, not again!

I woke up this morning.

To an alarm.

And I thought, why the hell is an alarm going off during the weekend for chrimeny's sake?

Then I realized - slowly - painfully - that it was, indeed, Monday.

Fuck.

The Autumn Poem - Fifty Word Fiction Friday Vol. 25

The 50 Word Fiction Friday theme this week is: Autumn.

The Story Behind The Fiction (A.K.A. The Inspiration): I was reading John Milton last night - particularly L'Allegro. This poem wasn't part of the reading assignment (I have to read bits of Paradise Lost by Monday, in between writing a paper and studying for a midterm for my other lit class. Oy.) but the 'Intro to Milton' pages I read made the poem sound really interesting. So I thought, hey, what the hay! and read it just for fun. Because it's always nice to read something for fun, especially in between reading several somethings you're to be tested on later. So I read L'Allegro last night (and enjoyed it) and a couple of hours before that I was reading part of Spencer's Faerie Queen. Since I've got the words of these two brilliant poets in my head I couldn't help but be inspired.

I love writing poetry. To me, writing poetry is like playing golf; I don't have to be good at it to enjoy it. :) Lately, I've just been flirting around with poetry writing, scribbling down a line or two here and there whenever something strikes my fancy. But today, well, I guess I just have poetry on the brain. So the Muse, armed with a poetry-gorged-mind and my total infatuation with Autumn inspired the following poem.

The Autumn Poem

The road I walked, as oft I do,
When eyes of mine espied a hue
So vibrant there it made me pause
To wonder at it's wondrous cause.
The Maker soon before my sight
Came robed in crimson golden light,
The source of Nature's gaiety,
Dear Autumn in her majesty.

And yes, its EXACTLY fifty words! And perfect iambic tetrameter! (Well, I think). I'm still amazed I got it to 50 words. It was 49, actually, but one little change and voila! 50 words bay-bee! Now all I need to do is come up with a better title than The Autumn Poem. :) But it will do for now.

The Great Vending Machine Cheeseburger Experiment

i'm about to eat a cheesburger i bought from a vending machine.

if you don't hear from me in the next couple of hours... call 911.

*gulp*

the silliness of it all

Yet another conversation with my favorite chatbot, Jabberwacky, served up here for your reading pleasure.


JW: Are you male or female?

ME: Female.

JW: Male.

ME: Is that what you are? Or are you playing the Say Whatever Pops Into Your Head game?

JW: I guarantee there are no battleships in Nevada.

ME: Is that a money back guarantee? Because pole dancing just doesn't pay what it used to.

JW: On France and the sky?

ME: In rubber and the pie!

JW: The silliness of it all.

ME: Fo shizzle botzizzle.

Honestly folks, I'm not making up his responses. My responses, on the other hand, are totally my fault.

Randomness...

Geez, it seems like forever since I last posted. Hasn't even been a week yet, but it feels like forever. Well, not forever... that's a bit too dramatic sounding... it just feels like... well, like its been a long time. Too long. Miss ya, friend. Been gone too long. Meant to write. Yeah, meant to... but 'meant to' isn't worth much more than a sack of shit in a sugar shop. In the words of one of my favorite bands, America, singing one of my favorite songs: "I been one poor correspondent, and I've been too, too hard to find. But it doesn't mean you ain't been on my mind." Geez, I love that song.

I've started to write a few posts but never got passed the first few sentences. Or past even the brain pool of electric thought. I just have nothing to say right now. Except for, of course, that I've got nothing to say. And my brain is all mushy and full of little school-related-stress balls. Little stress balls, no-big-dealio stress balls, but lots of little balls makes cause for a bit of ADD. At least for me. These last few days in particular. I just can't focus on a task for too long of a time. Which is a pain in the ass when I really want to finish my homework and get it out of the way so I don't have to worry about it and ooooh look the Emmy's are on!

I did manage to write a 50 word fiction story last Friday. Wrote it right under the gun of this wondrous thing called a Deadline. The deadline being 4 pm, which is when I need to be clocked out at work. So I finished it, and posted it at The Wonderful Home of The 50 Word Fiction Friday Challenge, but I didn't have time to post it here. And once I got home, as it happens more often than not on a Friday, I don't want to even look at the computer. I only turned my home computer on once this weekend, and that was to update some school application stuff. And to pretend like I was actually doing homework. I had three pages worth of 'journals' to write, only three pages. And I wrote maybe three fourths of a page. But its not due until tomorrow night, so I'm all good on that front. I hope. And today I have a quiz I didn't study for, but I'll have about twenty minutes from the time I find a parking spot to the time class starts. So no prob Bob. And we still haven't covered everything in class that will be on the quiz, so as long as I pay attention in class today the quiz, which will be at the end of the class, should be no problem. Hopefully I'm over my ADD moment and oooh look its Talk Like A Pirate Day!

Arrrrrg!

I might post my 50 word fic later today. Because I'd like to keep it for posterity or whatnot. (And I might cheat and list the post date as Friday, because I am Lord of the Blog afterall). But for now, I have a meeting to go to. And before that, I have to synchronize the clock on my cell phone with the punch out clock at work so that I can set an alarm that will ring two minutes before I have to clock out. Because while the meeting is supposed to be only an hour all the guys I work with are Chatty Kathy's and the meetings always run long. Which is really a problem when I try and get my daily intake of water over and done with in the first few hours of work, because after an hour or so I'm about ready to pee out my eyeballs. Anywhoo... so now that the meeting has been moved from Tuesdays to Mondays, and they're set to start only an hour before I have to leave for school, I'll be able to leave the meeting early. Yeah! Sorry boys, gotta run, don't stop the whining on account of my absence.

See, this is why I haven't posted in a few days. All I've got is long ass ramblings that get to no point and oooh look somebody just made a fresh pot of coffee!

I'm feeling like one hell of a ringy dingy right now.

Must be the low sugar. Or something. Give me some chocolate! STAT!

Anywhoo... I'm sitting here in the school library, getting my homework groove on (well, until now that is), when I hear someone behind me say, rather impatiently, "Ring ring!" And again, "Ring ring!"

Only its not a 'someone'.

It's a someone's cell phone. With a recording of someone yelling "Ring! Ring!" as a freaking ringtone!

It's my new favorite ringtone. And I covet it dearly.

Also... well, this got me to thinking... when I grow up and own my very own house... one with my very own front door bell/chime/doohickey... I want the chime to be a recording of someone saying "Ding-a-ding-dong bay-bee!" Because that would be uberspiffy.

Even spiffier would be a ringtone of Lily Tomlin saying, "one ringy dingy... two ringy dingies..." Hmmm... I wonder if they sell those somewhere...

Do your nose hairs hang low? Do they flutter to and fro?

Would you rather...

1. lapse into epileptic seizures every time somebody says the word "squid" OR cluck like a chicken every time somebody says "chicken"?

Clucking sounds more fun than seizing so I'll go for that one.

Plus, I like the word 'squid'.

Squid squid squidy squid.

Just typing it makes me feel al squishy inside. I'd really hate to have it tainted by epileptic association.

2. have no bones, but complete muscular control of every part of your body OR four arms?

Four arms would be useful, especially when I'm having to hold back the rush of adoring fans, but I think I'd rather have complete muscular control. It's been a as-of-yet unrealized dream of mine to be able to wink with my right eye.

3. your nose hair grow down past your chin no matter how much you cut it OR have earlobes twice the normal size?

Earlobes twice the normal size. I don't think they make hats stylish enough to hide nose hair.

4. have people constantly mistake your sex (man v. woman) OR your sexual preference (straight v. gay)?

I think I'd be more offended if people thought I was a guy, so that I'd pick the second option.

"We just stood there looking at each other. There was so much electricity, you could have executed ten fat murderers!" *

My desk neighbor Sal and I have been laughing about Carl's Bad Cavern again today because we like to beat dead joke horses around here. Actually, it all started with me trying to make a joke. I use the word 'trying' because like most of my attempted jokes, this one fell flat like a lame horse at a ballet recital.

I don't know what it is I have against horses today, but I'd like to give a quick shout out to my horse constituency and say sorry dudes for the horrible horse analogies.

Anywho... so I'm trying to explain to Sal why my joke would have been funny (explained jokes = hysterical!) if a coffee bean was in fact called a coffee nut.

While I'm talking about beans and nuts Sal says something similar to, "blah blah blah like Carl's women."

Again, like last time, I thought Sal was making fun of Carl, who's been married to several women.

So I says, "Huh? Whatdyou say?" because while I have perfect hearing, I sometimes can't hear worth diddlysquat.

"Carl's junior," Sal says again.

"Oh." I said. I'm still not quite getting it, but... "Ohhhhhh..." so then once again, I'm thinking he's making fun of Carl. And his... uh... 'junior'.

Now, I blame this path of reasoning due to the fact that I watched an old episode of Coupling last night where Patrick talks about 'Junior Patrick'.

So I says to Sal, "I can't believe you just went there."

And again, just like last time, he looks at me funny, not quite understanding what I mean.

"What do you mean?" asks Sal The Confused Coworker. "I just... said... Carl's Jr."

That's right. Carl's Jr., not Carl's junior. Huge difference there, and I finally I heard the distinction that time.

Turns out Sal was just trying to say he was hungry for Carl's Jr.

Turns out that I have a very dirty mind this morning.

"Oh." I said, and tried to explain. Again. "I thought you meant Carl's... juuuuunior."

Sal blushed. And cracked up. And blushed some more. Poor guy. He's not used to me making naughty references.

I think I'll shoot him an email... ask if he wants to go eat Carl's Junior Jr. for lunch today.

* blog post title is a quote from the Coupling episode Faithless, as said by Jane.

Spunk'd - 50 Word Fiction Friday Vol. 23

The 50 Word Fiction Friday theme this week is: waiting.

I wrote this awhile ago, but after I got it down to fifty words it no longer fit with the week's theme so I ditched it and wrote another one. I didn't ditch the fic completely though (obviously, since its all shiny and ready for display so early in the morning) opting to save it for a week where it would work, if ever a week should come.

I've always been a pack rat, keeping stuff on the slight chance that one day I might be able to use it for something. Because what if one day you need that specific color of used packaging ribbon? Or that thin piece of cardboard that got shipped inside some package? Or that discarded pen cap? How foolish will you feel when you realize you used to have it up until three days ago, a.k.a. The Big Exudos of Closet Paraphernalia.

I inherited this urge to save crap from my dad. I saw an old toy box of his once. It was this little wooden thing, very cute, the perfect size for holding crayons and plastic army men. Along with the crayons and the plastic army figurines were such useless things as a broken mini light bulb and the spring from the inside of a pen. When my mom suggested that he throw the broken light bulb away my dad just couldn't bring himself to do it. Because, really, he'd kept it this long... and, well, you never know!

My pack-ratty-ness always makes cleaning my room a challenge. A fun challenge - because its fun to find old stuff I've saved that I completely forgot all about - but a challenge nonetheless, because instead of cleaning my room I'll reminisce/play with/read through/etc all the stuff that I've squirreled away for that big Possible Inevitable. I never realized it before today, but it seems I'm like this with stories and pieces of stories as well.

So I've had this little 50-fic squirreled away, just waiting for the week when it would finally work. And today is the day, err... week, err... uh... yeah, here it is. Some great artists might have what's known as a 'blue period'. This is my 'S period'. :)

Spunk'd

Sassy Sue of the 76th Spunk Squad sighed. She'd been sitting by the phone for several days now, waiting studiously for a ring on the Spunk Crisis Line. Surely someone out there wasn't satisfactorily saturated with spunk! But no one called. Surprisingly, Sassy Sue was starting to feel seriously somber.

The more tired I am the more annoying you are and I only got five hours of sleep last night.

I don't mean you guys of course. Oh no-no-no-no-noooooo. I luuuuurve you guys. I'm talking about Those People over there, the ones who think they're the funniest thing since sliced pickles, the ones chuckling to themselves because no one else will chuckle. Because they're all too busy trying to keep their chuck from upping. Yep. I'm talking about Those People.

So I'm driving to class this morning, just flipping through my radio presets when I hear one of my favorite songs (When You Come Back Down) playing on a country western station. Naturally, I stop flippin' and start singing like I'm a Karoake Goddess.

When the song ends the dj comes on and says, "blah blah blah." (Excuse the rough translation.) Then the dj introduces the next song as "a song to help you wake up this morning".

Wake up? Huh? What? Is it suddenly 8am again???

Not that I wake up that late (today I was awake at 5) but I'm sure some people do. Lucky bastards.

So I look at my car's dashboard clock and see that it's 10:17am.

Heh. If you aren't already fully awake by 10:17 in the am, an upbeat country song is not going to help. (And the song wasn't even that upbeat!) Silly dj.

Well, at least I have the ears of an 18 year old.

Just had my hearing tested. Always a fun experience it is. Because I work in a factory where there's harmful noise levels my Place of Employment makes everyone take a hearing test once a year. (Actually, I think the government makes my PoE test us, but they'd probably do it anyway). Even those of us who rarely go out on the production floor (i.e. me and my fellow office buddies) have to be tested. I don't mind really, because I'd like to know when I can officially blame my selective hearing on actual documented hearing loss.

So here's the process:
Step 1: A guy in a converted truck/camper/thingamajiggy drives up and parks in our parking lot.
Step 2: Potentially Hearing Challenged employees go outside in groups of three or four.
Step 3: Sit in the back half of the converted camper hearing test-mobile and fill out a little questionnaire.

One of the questions was "Do you have a relative who has a problem with hearing loss?" I circled yes, because, as crazy as this may sound, I'm related to Old People. I know! Crazy! Did the question writer mean 'relatives who aren't naturally deaf due to oldfogyitis?' because if he/she did, he/she needs to be more specific next time.

Step 4: Watch a cheesy 'Hearing Loss Is Bad' video that you would swear was made in the 70's if it wasn't for the inclusion of Furbys.

WARNING: Furbys = noise pollution!

Step 5: Have someone who's probably not a doctor (no white coat, stethoscope, or nametag with Dr. on it) stick one of those ear probes in your ear and look for... Atlantis? Hoffa? Gas for only $1.99 a gallon? I have no idea. And being the good little informed test subject that I was, I didn't ask.

Step 6: Take one whole step to the front section of the HearingTestMobile, sit on a little stool (of which there are four), put on some bitchin' headphones, and prepare to be tested.

I'm always a little anxious at this part. I don't know why. I could miss a few beeps and I'd probably still have a decent score. And if I fail it, its not like I'll be fired over it. This is, after all, for my benefit. I know all this, and still I get paranoid that I'll miss a beep. Because dammit, I want to have perfect hearing!

The really faint beeps get me every time. Some sort of survival animal instinct that flairs up in the face of danger. Was that a beep? It sounded like a beep. It was really faint so maybe it wasn't... maybe I'm just imagining the beep. See? I can imagine it right now. Sounds just the... wait, now that was a beep. I think. Will I be penalized for guessing?

I've been at this job for about five years now. So that means four or five hearing tests. And its pretty much the same thing over and over again. So by the third test, I knew what to expect. Knew how long it would take, what the beeps sounded like, etc. So I'm sitting there, taking the test for the third time (maybe second time... wish my memory was as good as my hearing). I hear about two or three beeps. And then nothing. Nothing. And I started to freak out because I knew there were still a few more normal beeps to be beeped before the softer beeps beeped. And I thought, holy crap I'm deaf! Then I noticed my fellow test subjects were looking around with panicked looks in their eyes. Turns out someone unplugged us. Test turned off. Not deaf. Halle-freaking-luiah!

Step 7: push the button (that looks like the button on jeopardy) when you hear the beep
Step 8: get your test results

The two guys taking the test with me have been here for a couple of years, working out on the production floor all day (plus, they're fairly older gentleman, and they probably own a couple of furbys) so the lines on their graphs dipped down low. Not low enough to signal any problems, thankfully, but they still dipped. My lines? They stayed relatively at the top. Yay me! The HearingTestMobile Driver Guy got all technical when explaining the results of the other two, but when he saw mine he said, 'eh, you can pretty much hear everything.' So, I've got that going for me. :)

Step 9: sign test results saying you understand that furbys are evil noise polluters and that you... I don't remember. Dammit. Where's my memory test? Actually, I don't think I even read what I was signing. First I let a non-doctor probe my ear canals, then I sign something without reading it. D'oh! I'm feeling very secure in my choices today.

I handed my signed test results to the HearingTestMobile Driver Guy and got a copy back for my own records (which I'm having framed, of course.) But when I handed it to him, he touched the back of my hand for a longer-than-necessary time period. It was weird. It was less of a hey-someone's-flirting-with-me kind of touch and more of a creepy-camper-guy-is-feeling-up-my-hand-uninvited kind of touch. It was just... weird. So I ran out of there before he offered to check out the inside of my ear canals again.

Buttery Justice - Fifty Word Fiction Friday V22

Buttery Justice

She begged the Dairy King for leniency but he ordered the Official Toast Tosser to "Toss the Royal Toast of Justice!" anyway.

So the toast was tossed and flip it went and squish it finally landed, butter-side down.

"Off with her head!" the King exclaimed. And buttery justice was served.

The 50 Word Fiction Friday challenge this week was to use either the word buttery or the word justice in a fifty-words-only story. I choose to use both because I'm just an extra special double chocolate hot fudge bonus points whore like that.

The idea for today's 50 fic (the tossing of toast as a means of dispensing justice) came to me quickly, almost right away in fact. I let it stew in my brain a bit first, then when I had the time I opened up a new word document and let my fingers fly across the keyboard. And fly they did boy. Halfway through I began to think, this has got to be more than fifty words. But I didn't stop, making sure I got the whole thing out less I suffer from Story Idea Blockage complications (an uncomfortable affliction at best) later in the week. After I typed the last line I did a quick word count and saw that I had 100 words exactly. A nice round number, yes, but it wasn't the nice round number I wanted. 100? D'oh!

It was a bitch to try and trim it down by half. It lost some of its magic in the process, but I think it also gained a chunk of spunk as well. As I was cutting and chopping and contorting and manipulating the story I couldn't help thinking, I should be adding words to this, not taking them away! Which means there's still more of this weird little story in my head. If it doesn't drain away in the next thirty minutes I think I'll stop by this little coffee place on the way home and sit outside with some sort of snobby coffee drink, my notebook, my pen, and my muse and have at it. Or maybe I'll just work on it now. It's Friday. And I only have thirty minutes left of work. And there is nothing pressing left for me to do. I don't think I could concentrate on anything else. :)

If this blog title was audio instead of visual you'd be hearing my impression of Tony Curtis's impression of Cary Grant saying, "Judy, Judy, Judy."

First of all, speaking of Cary Grant... I love his movies!

Second of all, speaking of Judys... this Judy rocks!

And you can rock too my friends in just three, yes THREE easy steps.

1) sign up here for Blingo.

2) search

3) and win!

That's what the fabulous Judy did. And she's already won movie tickets! Since she is my fabulous friend, I won too! So go over and tell Judy that she most certainly and totally rocks.

Because I need her to keep playing and winning because I myself can't seem to win a gosh darn thing. :) I search and I search yet no luck do I have. No Blingo mojo can I find. Oh well.

Hey, look at this pretty graphic!



Doesn't it make you want to click on it! And play Fill In The Blank! And click on the search button several times a day!

doodle-y-doo

How am I this morning you may be wondering?

(I don't know why you'd be wondering, but in case, for some strange reason, you are... )

I think this sums up my feelings quietly nicely, if I do say so myself.

I could doodle with this all day long. It's so much fun! :)

In need of a bib... or at least the ability to transfer food directly from my hand to my mouth without any detours to Boobville.

My area of boobage has become a hostile war zone.

First, my chest got bombed by the ranch dressing I was eating. (Carrots and ranch dressing = yum!)

I went to the bathroom for some damage control and managed to keep the wet spot to the size of a quarter. It was still visible to the curious-coworker-eye, but not as bad as it could have been. I think the arm I held up in front of it, as I subtly nibbled on a fingernail, camouflaged it quiet nicely. Just an old trick of the (Slobs R Us) trade.

Then, as I was eating some chicken noodle soup (Maruchan Instant Lunch = yum!) I got attacked again. This time by three separate drops of Liquid Evil.

This caused flashbacks to the last time I was attacked by three simultaneously dropped 'bombs.' I was about 11 years old, riding on a ferry with my parents and brother as we traveled from the north island of New Zealand to the south island. I was standing by the railing, watching the approaching land mass, when a bunch of seagulls starting circling up above me. I remember panicking, thinking, I should move before one of them craps on me. One particularly evil seagull picked up on my fear. Oh yeah, he smelt it. Then he dealt it. He shot three turds at me. THREE turds I tell ya!

Time slowed down for me then.

I had time to count each bird turd as they flew towards me.

One.

Two.

Three.

I had time to be afraid.

Oh.

My.

Gawd!

I even had time to dodge two of the turds. The third one, though, had my number. It splattered all over my new jacket.

I. Was. MORTIFIED!

To commemorate the special occasion, because you're nobody until a bird poops on you, my godfather bought me one of the grossest, coolest looking t-shirts. It was blue, with fake white and green bird poop all over it, and it said something clever about being crapped on by a bird like... well, I can't quite remember the exact wording. I think I still have that shirt somewhere though...

Anyways, speaking of shirts... the first spot had almost dried when my chest got attacked again. I made another trip to the War Room and did my best to clean my messy self up. But now? I've got a HUGE wet spot on the front of my shirt! Like, regulation sized donut HUGE.

Sigh. When will I learn that these noodle instant lunches are messy and that I should be more careful? Apparently not any time soon. If anyone walks by, I think I'll pretend that I'm having heart palpitations or something (as to cover the HUGE water spot on my shirt!). Maybe I'll print out a picture of Matthew McConaughey (hubba hubba), pin it up on my wall, and pretend I'm swooning or something.

Gah! It looks like I suffer from projectile drooling!

Caution: Sarcasm Chasms Ahead

(Well, they're not really chasms, just a few instances of, but it rhymed and I got nothing else so what's a girl to do? Get on with the post, that's what.)



Would you rather...

1. be a fan of the visiting team at a sporting event OR be a member of the opposite political party at a political rally?

Well, since I'd rather go to a sporting event than a political rally I'd choose the first one. As long as I don't wear a 'Your Team Sucks' t-shirt I should be alright.

Though going to a political rally could be fun interesting. I could see how the other side lives, giggle at all the asinine things they say, throw it down The Daily Show style and... nah, I think I'd still go see a sporting event.

2. visit a biker bar dressed as george w. bush OR visit a monastery dressed as a biker?

Now, are we talking about White House George or Vacation George? Because I'm all for dressing in jeans and a t-shirt and vacationing on big ranches for weeks on end.

But then again, I've always wanted to dress as a biker... so... I think I'd choose that one.

3. spend an entire month completely nude OR wear the same underwear for two weeks without washing it?

The same unwashed undies for two weeks is a bit much. One week I might have considered it, but two? That's just a tad bit gross. Grosser than me being completely starkers.

I'd rather spend an entire month completely nude, after, of course, I make sure I've got 4 weeks of vacation time and a house/apartment fully stocked with all the necessities of life I'll ever possibly need in a months time.

4. look and talk like Steve Urkel OR look and talk like Michael Jackson?

Oh holy mother of cheese whiz! Who'd want to look like Michael Jackson?!? That's one hell of a heebeejeebee looking mofo. Besides, Urkel is kinda sexy when he snorts, so I'd have that going for me. :)