8.31.2007
Yes or no?!
I'm seriously thinking about cutting my hair -- to about shoulder length, maybe an inch or two below. Yes? No? I need guidance!!
Friday.....praise Jeebus.
I have naught but the energy to say this: There is a cafe/diner next door to where I work called "Steve's." It's not listed on the menu, but if you ask him, he'll make you some homemade potato chips. Delicious, thick and crispy deep fried potato slices fresh off the stove. They are ridiculous. Ridiculously tasty, that is. And an entire order of them is only $2. Like, who is going to resist that? Nobody, that's who. Most especially not me. To be precise: I didn't resist them a few days ago when Greatest Print Assistant Ever bought some for lunch and all but demanded that I share them with her. Nor did I resist them yesterday as a mid-afternoon snack used to psyche myself up further for the final opening-of-boxes party of the season. And I didn't resist them just now because...well, they're freaking delicious. Did I say that already?
It's getting to the point now where, when I placed my order today, the waitress started laughing and said, "Dang, girl!" and then when I brought them back to my desk and proceeded to munch on them, a co-worker came over and felt compelled to say, "Ysabel. You are eating an Entire. Box. Full. Of. Chips." Damn straight, I am. But I got a bottle of awesomely healthy V8 vegetable juice to go along with it, so I think it evens itself out, don't you think?
***
In Ysabel-Is-Ridiculous-And-Takes-Forever-To-Do-ANYTHING-Vaguely-Resembling-Responsibility-And-Adulthood news: (un)Lucky is now legally registered in the state of Washington. Only 1 year and 2 months later than his previous registration's expiration*. Oops. Good thing I never got caught. Yeah, that's right. I'm too fast for you, po po! Wooowoooo!
* ...aaaand now my parents will commence the dialing of my cellphone number so that they can kindly lecture me on how to behave like an actual grown up. *sigh* I know....
It's getting to the point now where, when I placed my order today, the waitress started laughing and said, "Dang, girl!" and then when I brought them back to my desk and proceeded to munch on them, a co-worker came over and felt compelled to say, "Ysabel. You are eating an Entire. Box. Full. Of. Chips." Damn straight, I am. But I got a bottle of awesomely healthy V8 vegetable juice to go along with it, so I think it evens itself out, don't you think?
***
In Ysabel-Is-Ridiculous-And-Takes-Forever-To-Do-ANYTHING-Vaguely-Resembling-Responsibility-And-Adulthood news: (un)Lucky is now legally registered in the state of Washington. Only 1 year and 2 months later than his previous registration's expiration*. Oops. Good thing I never got caught. Yeah, that's right. I'm too fast for you, po po! Wooowoooo!
* ...aaaand now my parents will commence the dialing of my cellphone number so that they can kindly lecture me on how to behave like an actual grown up. *sigh* I know....
8.29.2007
So good...and yet, so baaad.
Scott and I just had dinner at Chipotle. Mainly because we originally wanted Panda Express, but missed the drive-thru deadline by 2 minutes (damn!!!) and Chipotle was right next door. He had a burrito. I had a burrito minus the tortilla wrap (The tortilla just gets in the way, anyway, right? Plus: less carbs. Go me!). It was super tasty. However I am now convinced that I have fiery acid gurgling in my esophagus and stretching all the way down to my lower intestine. Also: I think I may give birth to something tonight. And it may be made of guacamole. I'm not really sure what that means exactly, but it seems about right. Ooooh, I need some Tums...
Hey look, a post about the after-effects of eating Mexican food, and I didn't use the words "bowel" or "movement" once in the entire thing. You're welcome.
***
Also, I'd like to mention that amidst the publisher-related craptaciousness I was contending with earlier today (see below, duh), Greatest Print Assistant Ever and I decided to take a much-deserved stroll to Caffe Ladro. As luck would have it, my dingbat of a publisher rep called my cellphone just as I was placing my order and, seeing as how I was manically trying to sort out that mess asap, I couldn't ask him to call back or put him on hold, and I un-wittingly became that stereotypically bad customer who yaps on their cell-phone the entire time the cashier/barista is trying to help you (ugh, I hate when people do that). Anyway, there's really no point to this story, except to tell you that I ordered something called a "Yankee Dog" which, as it ends up, is an Americano topped with a big dollop of cappuccino foam. Pour over ice, add two Splendas, and it was magnifico! Enough to put me in a better mood once we returned to the Bane of Ysabel's Existence (i.e. the office).
UPDATE: Scott just popped in here and, after a brief discussion about my blog - okay, during which I made him read those two isolated sentences above, and an admission on my part that I think I'm becoming notorious for talking about my post-meal toilet activities - this exchange took place:
Scott: I don't read your blog because I don't like to read about poop ... your poop.
Ys: But I don't write about it in great detail. Just a taste!
Scott: (walking away) I'm going to go watch some show about Jeffrey Dahmer because that's more comforting to me.
Ys: But I only speak in metaphoooors!!*
Scott: (from the other room) I'm not listening!!
Whatever, he likes it.
* Not true, I know.
Hey look, a post about the after-effects of eating Mexican food, and I didn't use the words "bowel" or "movement" once in the entire thing. You're welcome.
***
Also, I'd like to mention that amidst the publisher-related craptaciousness I was contending with earlier today (see below, duh), Greatest Print Assistant Ever and I decided to take a much-deserved stroll to Caffe Ladro. As luck would have it, my dingbat of a publisher rep called my cellphone just as I was placing my order and, seeing as how I was manically trying to sort out that mess asap, I couldn't ask him to call back or put him on hold, and I un-wittingly became that stereotypically bad customer who yaps on their cell-phone the entire time the cashier/barista is trying to help you (ugh, I hate when people do that). Anyway, there's really no point to this story, except to tell you that I ordered something called a "Yankee Dog" which, as it ends up, is an Americano topped with a big dollop of cappuccino foam. Pour over ice, add two Splendas, and it was magnifico! Enough to put me in a better mood once we returned to the Bane of Ysabel's Existence (i.e. the office).
UPDATE: Scott just popped in here and, after a brief discussion about my blog - okay, during which I made him read those two isolated sentences above, and an admission on my part that I think I'm becoming notorious for talking about my post-meal toilet activities - this exchange took place:
Scott: I don't read your blog because I don't like to read about poop ... your poop.
Ys: But I don't write about it in great detail. Just a taste!
Scott: (walking away) I'm going to go watch some show about Jeffrey Dahmer because that's more comforting to me.
Ys: But I only speak in metaphoooors!!*
Scott: (from the other room) I'm not listening!!
Whatever, he likes it.
* Not true, I know.
What. A. Day.
Well, I guess the lunar eclipse came and went and I was not even there to witness the universe in all its celestial lunar-ly glory. Bah humbug. Well, I was there. Just oblivious and asleep. At least it wasn't a total solar eclipse (not that you would be able to un-knowingly miss that anyway), because then I'd be devastated.
***
In other print-buying-related news: So I came into work expecting our final giant shipment of band method books, because my rep had told me that they were "almost definitely" going to come today. I wore my jeans that have a hole in the butt because they're comfortable and I can wear them with flip-flops, as well as my totally-inappropriate-for-work pink tank top because I thought I would be outside all day again cursing my way through nearly one hundred roughly 70 lb. boxes of books in 80-degree sunshine.
But noon came and went and I never got any boxes.
So I called up the publisher to see if they could tell me exactly when these books would be arriving. I couldn't get a hold of my rep, so I just talked to somebody else on the phone...and was promptly informed that, "Oh, I'm showing two identical orders for $24,000 worth of band books that have been shipped to you." To which I promptly replied, "Oooh, hells no. I only want one order." (Not really, but that's the gist.)
Anyway, the back story is that I faxed in this order originally about 3 weeks ago. My rep then promptly high-tailed it out of the office at about the same time to go on vacation. When he got back about a week later, I called him up to get an ETA of this shipment and he told me that he "could not find the order anywhere so the fax must not have gone through" (even though I had a fax sheet telling me that it did go through, but whatev...) and I just "need to re-fax the order so he can take care of it." Which I did. Except that now it is clear as day that the original fax did go through. And now I've got two shipments of these f*ing books already on their way to me. And my f*ing rep can't even tell me what day to expect them so that I can prepare for the day. Which is a problem, when your department is a staff of TWO people. Counting myself. On a good day.
If these books come in on Friday, I swear to God I'm just going to set a lighter to them, because Greatest Print Assistant Ever is off on Fridays, meaning I will be left to my own devices to figure out what the hell to do with this doubley-craptastic mound of books.
In closing, I finally tracked down my rep, swiftly informed him of the situation, to which he said initially, "Hmmm...for some reason it looks like this order was entered twice. Thaaat's weird..." to which I replied, "Hmmm...actually, it looks like my original fax did go through but you just couldn't find it, doofus." (Again, not really.) And then he said, "Oh, don't worry, whatever happens, I'll take care of it" to which I replied, "Um, yeah you will...doofus." Because there's no way that I'm hauling around 100 more boxes of books that I never even ordered to begin with. I've already got two bum shoulders out of this, and have run out of shoulders to sacrifice.
***
In other print-buying-related news: So I came into work expecting our final giant shipment of band method books, because my rep had told me that they were "almost definitely" going to come today. I wore my jeans that have a hole in the butt because they're comfortable and I can wear them with flip-flops, as well as my totally-inappropriate-for-work pink tank top because I thought I would be outside all day again cursing my way through nearly one hundred roughly 70 lb. boxes of books in 80-degree sunshine.
But noon came and went and I never got any boxes.
So I called up the publisher to see if they could tell me exactly when these books would be arriving. I couldn't get a hold of my rep, so I just talked to somebody else on the phone...and was promptly informed that, "Oh, I'm showing two identical orders for $24,000 worth of band books that have been shipped to you." To which I promptly replied, "Oooh, hells no. I only want one order." (Not really, but that's the gist.)
Anyway, the back story is that I faxed in this order originally about 3 weeks ago. My rep then promptly high-tailed it out of the office at about the same time to go on vacation. When he got back about a week later, I called him up to get an ETA of this shipment and he told me that he "could not find the order anywhere so the fax must not have gone through" (even though I had a fax sheet telling me that it did go through, but whatev...) and I just "need to re-fax the order so he can take care of it." Which I did. Except that now it is clear as day that the original fax did go through. And now I've got two shipments of these f*ing books already on their way to me. And my f*ing rep can't even tell me what day to expect them so that I can prepare for the day. Which is a problem, when your department is a staff of TWO people. Counting myself. On a good day.
If these books come in on Friday, I swear to God I'm just going to set a lighter to them, because Greatest Print Assistant Ever is off on Fridays, meaning I will be left to my own devices to figure out what the hell to do with this doubley-craptastic mound of books.
In closing, I finally tracked down my rep, swiftly informed him of the situation, to which he said initially, "Hmmm...for some reason it looks like this order was entered twice. Thaaat's weird..." to which I replied, "Hmmm...actually, it looks like my original fax did go through but you just couldn't find it, doofus." (Again, not really.) And then he said, "Oh, don't worry, whatever happens, I'll take care of it" to which I replied, "Um, yeah you will...doofus." Because there's no way that I'm hauling around 100 more boxes of books that I never even ordered to begin with. I've already got two bum shoulders out of this, and have run out of shoulders to sacrifice.
8.28.2007
Turn arouuuund...
Total lunar eclipse tonight! I hope I can stay up...
Oh, and also? Why did I not know that you're not allowed to legally own a driver's license in multiple states? I went and got my Washington state driver's license today and was distraught that the guy behind the counter punched a hole in my California DL- which doesn't expire until 2010, by the way - thereby rendering it all but void. Laaaame. I like my California DL. I look cute. And angry. Because I was.
***
OH JESUSMARYANDJOSEPH -- WAS THE LUNAR ECLIPSE LAST NIGHT?! AS IN THIS MORNING??!! FOR PETE'S SAKE.....
Oh, and also? Why did I not know that you're not allowed to legally own a driver's license in multiple states? I went and got my Washington state driver's license today and was distraught that the guy behind the counter punched a hole in my California DL- which doesn't expire until 2010, by the way - thereby rendering it all but void. Laaaame. I like my California DL. I look cute. And angry. Because I was.
***
OH JESUSMARYANDJOSEPH -- WAS THE LUNAR ECLIPSE LAST NIGHT?! AS IN THIS MORNING??!! FOR PETE'S SAKE.....
8.27.2007
Tra la la.
Greatest Print Assistant Ever and I just came back for a walk to a nearby espresso stand and I am now deliriously guzzling down a triple shot Khalua Soy Latte. Delish. On a related note, I can no longer feel my fingertips.
In other news: I responded to this ad on Craigslist this weekend for a company looking for proof-readers. I got a response within just a few hours! It will be part-time -- paid a flat rate per page -- and something I can do at home on my own computer. If this ends up being legit and not some kind of weirdo scam, I will be stoked. I love proof-reading things. It puts my 4 years of mega-training from Dr. Nemeth (aka. The Musicological Writing Nazi) to good use and lets me pass judgement on others, which is, of course, great fun. And this supplemental income will allow me tobuy even more soy lattes and make more trips to the Salty's brunch buffet!!! put money into savings. Huzzah!
In other news: I responded to this ad on Craigslist this weekend for a company looking for proof-readers. I got a response within just a few hours! It will be part-time -- paid a flat rate per page -- and something I can do at home on my own computer. If this ends up being legit and not some kind of weirdo scam, I will be stoked. I love proof-reading things. It puts my 4 years of mega-training from Dr. Nemeth (aka. The Musicological Writing Nazi) to good use and lets me pass judgement on others, which is, of course, great fun. And this supplemental income will allow me to
8.26.2007
R.I.P. My Laptop has been re-born!
Have been trying to resurrect my precious laptop for the last 36 hours. Things look bleak. I am distraught. It is not helping that Scott keeps trying to convince me that I'm better off buying a Mac (ptooey) anyway. PC LOVERS UNITE!!!
Off to have a morning Star*ucks latte (vaj be damned...it's better now anyway) to drown my dead-laptop-sorrows in... *sob* ...and will continue to attempt a resurrection of my computer upon my return. Perhaps I can offer Scott's Macbook (ptoo ptoo) as a ritual sacrifice to Bill Gates? He doesn't live far from here you know. Hmm...
***
UPDATE: I did iiiiiit!!! After several hours spent digging up old re-installation CD-ROMs from the deepest darkest corners of my closet and even more countless phone calls to my older brother Mr. Computer Science Genius (who, I can surmise from the tone and increased terseness in his voice, was getting ready to strangle me by the last phone call), my precious laptop has been resurrected! Huzzah!
Off to have a morning Star*ucks latte (vaj be damned...it's better now anyway) to drown my dead-laptop-sorrows in... *sob* ...and will continue to attempt a resurrection of my computer upon my return. Perhaps I can offer Scott's Macbook (ptoo ptoo) as a ritual sacrifice to Bill Gates? He doesn't live far from here you know. Hmm...
***
UPDATE: I did iiiiiit!!! After several hours spent digging up old re-installation CD-ROMs from the deepest darkest corners of my closet and even more countless phone calls to my older brother Mr. Computer Science Genius (who, I can surmise from the tone and increased terseness in his voice, was getting ready to strangle me by the last phone call), my precious laptop has been resurrected! Huzzah!
8.24.2007
Countdown to Thai Food and "Superbad"!!
10:10 am: Stroll into work only slightly (okay okay okay, one hour and 10 minutes...) later than had hoped. No latte in hand. Boo.
10:10 - 10:15 am: Check personal email and blog. One forwarded email from my mummy and no new comments from my readers. Blargh.
10:20 am: Check work email. 24 unread emails in my Inbox. Criminy!! What have I been doing all week?! ...Oh yeah, suffering from a case of the Faulty Hoo-Hah and sorting through a ridiculously large number of music method books.
10:30 am: Actual work in the dungeon (i.e. the basement warehouse wherein we keep our overstock of books and possibly some dead bodies).
11:00 am: Emerge from the dungeon. Prolonged exposure in that environment leads to me sneezing every 2 seconds for the rest of the day. I must be allergic to all the hidden dead bodies.
11:05 am: Somebody please tell me not to make a Star*ucks run right now because it is payday and I don't care if caffeine is supposed to be bad for a misbehaving vaj, I haven't had a latte in like 3 days because I've been too busy chugging cranberry juice and popping cranberry pills and did I mention it's payday? and that I've spent the last two weeks lugging a ridiculous amount of boxes filled with trillions of method books around? because the men who work in my company are apparent wussies who won't even offer to lift one f*ing box to help out myself or Greatest Print Assistant Ever and, yeah, I get that you think it's impressive and cute that I can lift boxes that weigh almost as much as I do but, damn, help a sister out! and I deserve an f*ing latte from f*ing Star*ucks goddmanit.
11:25 am: Seriously, though. I can have a latte if I just pop 2 extra cranberry supplement pills, right? Right?!
11:26 am: Down to 15 emails in my Inbox. This would go by much faster if I a) had a computer and an internet connection that actually functioned as a part of the twenty-first century, and not from the time when Mook first discovered how to make fire, and b) had a sufficient amount of hotcrack caffeine coursing through my veins.
12:22 pm: Dear lord, it's taking this piece of garbage a full minute just to open up a simple Excel document.
12:23 pm: And I've just realized that this thing won't let me log into Blogger and my work email account at the same time. Zounds! This cuts my total productivity *stifles laughter* in half!
12:23 and 30 seconds pm: Scott really needs to text me back to let me know if he'll be meeting me here for lunch. I'm a patient person, but not when my stomach is devoid of both Star*ucks and general nutrition. Namely in the form of Thai food (across the street). Or tomato and basil soup (across the street, next to the Thai place). Or homemade potato chips (next door). Ugh, seriously. Text me back.
12:32 pm: Text to Scott: "Um, hellooooo" (Is it possible to convey that level of attitude in a text message? I sure hope so.)
12:50 pm: Oh good lord, I forgot to mention this --
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO SARAH L. AND ROBYN WITH A Y!
12:52 pm: Oh, for crying out loud. Text me back! My stomach is eating itself...
12:59 pm: Go upstairs to grab a handful of pretzels to ease my angered (empty) belly.
1:03 pm: Come back to my desk to find 3 text messages from Scott (go figure). No lunch date, apparently. Bah humbug. If Greatest Print Assistant Ever were here, I'd buy her lunch. And a bottle of awesome Filipino beer. But she's not. So I won't. Perhaps I'll take off early instead.....
1:20 pm: I'm taking a walk to the post-office. I've got a car payment that needs to be mailed, it's a nice day, I'm rotting from the inside out in this joint, and I've got a zillion paper cuts and 3 damaged cuticles that tell me I can do whatever the hell I want for the rest of the day. So there.
1:58 pm: I'm baaaack. I bought 2 of these! Hooray! Awesome stamps these are! Use them to mail off my bill payments I will!
2:01 pm: Okay, change of plans. Goin' home early, having lunch with the Schmoobs, probably taking catnap #1, also probably taking shower #2, having some delicious Thai food for dinner, then off to watch "Superbad." Hooray hooray hooray! See ya suckas!
2:03 pm: ps. I didn't end up having any Star*ucks today (thus far...). The drive home is perilously full of Star*ucks drive-thrus and corner latte stands, however...
***
4:18 pm: GAK! So I came home, went to Chevy's for lunch with Scotty McScotterson (chicken flautas and sweet corn tomalito...mmm) and tried to turn on my laptop -- and it's dead!!!Noooooooooooo!!!
4:20 pm: Call big brother Mr. Computer Science Genius in a panic. If I recall, the conversation went a little something like this:
10:10 - 10:15 am: Check personal email and blog. One forwarded email from my mummy and no new comments from my readers. Blargh.
10:20 am: Check work email. 24 unread emails in my Inbox. Criminy!! What have I been doing all week?! ...Oh yeah, suffering from a case of the Faulty Hoo-Hah and sorting through a ridiculously large number of music method books.
10:30 am: Actual work in the dungeon (i.e. the basement warehouse wherein we keep our overstock of books and possibly some dead bodies).
11:00 am: Emerge from the dungeon. Prolonged exposure in that environment leads to me sneezing every 2 seconds for the rest of the day. I must be allergic to all the hidden dead bodies.
11:05 am: Somebody please tell me not to make a Star*ucks run right now because it is payday and I don't care if caffeine is supposed to be bad for a misbehaving vaj, I haven't had a latte in like 3 days because I've been too busy chugging cranberry juice and popping cranberry pills and did I mention it's payday? and that I've spent the last two weeks lugging a ridiculous amount of boxes filled with trillions of method books around? because the men who work in my company are apparent wussies who won't even offer to lift one f*ing box to help out myself or Greatest Print Assistant Ever and, yeah, I get that you think it's impressive and cute that I can lift boxes that weigh almost as much as I do but, damn, help a sister out! and I deserve an f*ing latte from f*ing Star*ucks goddmanit.
11:25 am: Seriously, though. I can have a latte if I just pop 2 extra cranberry supplement pills, right? Right?!
11:26 am: Down to 15 emails in my Inbox. This would go by much faster if I a) had a computer and an internet connection that actually functioned as a part of the twenty-first century, and not from the time when Mook first discovered how to make fire, and b) had a sufficient amount of hot
12:22 pm: Dear lord, it's taking this piece of garbage a full minute just to open up a simple Excel document.
12:23 pm: And I've just realized that this thing won't let me log into Blogger and my work email account at the same time. Zounds! This cuts my total productivity *stifles laughter* in half!
12:23 and 30 seconds pm: Scott really needs to text me back to let me know if he'll be meeting me here for lunch. I'm a patient person, but not when my stomach is devoid of both Star*ucks and general nutrition. Namely in the form of Thai food (across the street). Or tomato and basil soup (across the street, next to the Thai place). Or homemade potato chips (next door). Ugh, seriously. Text me back.
12:32 pm: Text to Scott: "Um, hellooooo" (Is it possible to convey that level of attitude in a text message? I sure hope so.)
12:50 pm: Oh good lord, I forgot to mention this --
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO SARAH L. AND ROBYN WITH A Y!
12:52 pm: Oh, for crying out loud. Text me back! My stomach is eating itself...
12:59 pm: Go upstairs to grab a handful of pretzels to ease my angered (empty) belly.
1:03 pm: Come back to my desk to find 3 text messages from Scott (go figure). No lunch date, apparently. Bah humbug. If Greatest Print Assistant Ever were here, I'd buy her lunch. And a bottle of awesome Filipino beer. But she's not. So I won't. Perhaps I'll take off early instead.....
1:20 pm: I'm taking a walk to the post-office. I've got a car payment that needs to be mailed, it's a nice day, I'm rotting from the inside out in this joint, and I've got a zillion paper cuts and 3 damaged cuticles that tell me I can do whatever the hell I want for the rest of the day. So there.
1:58 pm: I'm baaaack. I bought 2 of these! Hooray! Awesome stamps these are! Use them to mail off my bill payments I will!
2:01 pm: Okay, change of plans. Goin' home early, having lunch with the Schmoobs, probably taking catnap #1, also probably taking shower #2, having some delicious Thai food for dinner, then off to watch "Superbad." Hooray hooray hooray! See ya suckas!
2:03 pm: ps. I didn't end up having any Star*ucks today (thus far...). The drive home is perilously full of Star*ucks drive-thrus and corner latte stands, however...
***
4:18 pm: GAK! So I came home, went to Chevy's for lunch with Scotty McScotterson (chicken flautas and sweet corn tomalito...mmm) and tried to turn on my laptop -- and it's dead!!!Noooooooooooo!!!
4:20 pm: Call big brother Mr. Computer Science Genius in a panic. If I recall, the conversation went a little something like this:
- Big Brother: "Hello?"
- Me: "MY COMPUTER'S DEAAAAAD!!!!"
- Big Brother: *sigh*
- Me: "WHEN I TRY TO TURN IT ON IT GOES TO THAT FIRST WINDOWS START SCREEN THING BUT THEN IT DOESN'T ACTUALLY GO INTO WINDOWS, IT GOES TO THIS BLACK SCREEN THAT JUST SAYS 'ERROR DETECTED HARD DRIVE SOMETHING SOMETHING CONTROL ALT DELETE SOMETHING SOMETHING' BUT WHEN I PRESS CONTROL ALT DELETE IT JUST GOES BACK TO THAT WINDOWS SCREEN THING AND DOES THE WHOLE THING OVER AGAIN AAAAAAAAAUUUGGHHH..."
- Big Brother: *double sigh*
Anyhoo, long story short, he had me dig up my Windows XP re-install CD (And, by the way, way to go me for finding it! ...In a plastic bag within a plastic bag, that was within a giant paper bag underneath a pile of clothes in the corner of a closet. Score!), and I don't know if that has anything to do with it, but when I stuck the CD in the drive, it somehow caused my computer to boot up normally and now I am maniacally hurrying to try and get all my digital pictures uploaded onto my Flickr site so that I can re-install Windows XP on this thing (thereby erasing all my old files) before it decides to start not working again. Bleah.
8.22.2007
Blergh.
So I'm home, sick from work today. Not the "hahaha I called in sick" fun kind, but the "ugh, I can't believe I'm really sick" sucky kind. So the majority of my day will be spent as it is being spent currently, namely lying in bed under the covers with my head propped up by pillows, laptop on, as it should be, my lap and desperately chugging an entire 64 ounce jug of cranberry juice (...aaand now all my female readers know instantly what I am suffering from). I'll probably update more as the day progresses because, well, what the hell else am I going to do today except wallow in self-pity and curse the apparent fragility of my hoo-hah? And also because my new layout is so freakin' cute that I can't help but stare at it all day. And mentally will all of you to leave me comments. Hint.
UPDATE: I've managed to get myself out of bed long enough to eat some Chinese take-out (thanks to my Schmoobs), watch an episode of the Simpsons and take a shower. Even if one's vaj (sorry) is misbehaving, that is no excuse to not be so fresh and so clean clean, as the old adage goes. Also, payday is in less than two days, so I am having a good time making a mental list of the things I will be able to purchase with the upcoming paycheck:
UPDATE: I've managed to get myself out of bed long enough to eat some Chinese take-out (thanks to my Schmoobs), watch an episode of the Simpsons and take a shower. Even if one's vaj (sorry) is misbehaving, that is no excuse to not be so fresh and so clean clean, as the old adage goes. Also, payday is in less than two days, so I am having a good time making a mental list of the things I will be able to purchase with the upcoming paycheck:
- A new stock of contact lenses: this new type that my most recent eye doctor has me using tends to fall out of commission even if I fall asleep with them on for like only 30 minutes. Unacceptable. Must find a new brand that will allow me to take multiple cat naps throughout the day without having to toss out a pair of contacts every time.
- Some Miang Kum: as I have recently touted this delectable Thai treat to Scott as The Most Delicious Vegetarian Appetizer Ever, there is no choice now but to go and have some so I can prove myself right. Also so that I can eat some more Miang Kum.
- Tickets to go see "Superbad": we were supposed to go watch this last weekend. Instead, we chose to be lazy and stayed in and ate Chinese take-out and watched Season 2 of Sleeper Cell on DVD. Man, what a frickin' great show. But don't expect to be in a good mood after watching it.
- Something at Target. I don't know what. The old tried and true (Kleenex)? It's true, we are out of Kleenex tissues in this joint. Or maybe some candles. Because Bela's box has been overdue for a cleaning for a few days now and the living room smells of cat piss. And no amount of open-window aeration will get rid of that.
Ugh, I'm so low on energy even something so usually joyous as a shopping list is boring to me. Perhaps Samson's hair is to his strength as a well-behaved vaj (sorry) is to my blogging skillz? Hm, there's a theory worth exploring. Or not. Anyhoo, back to the chugging of the cranberry juice...
8.21.2007
Clearly the yellow did not last long.
Who knew it would be so difficult to find the perfect shade of yellow with which to utilize as your blog's background color...and that hours spent going slowly insane trying to find this elusive shade (Buttercream with a hint of lemon meringue, damnit! All I wanted was buttercream with a hint of lemon meringue!!)* would eventually lead to a complete overhaul of my blog layout. Do you like? I'm fairly pleased with it (so far). I said it before, and I'll say it again: html is a bitch. Scratch that -- html is a bitch when you spent the entire first month of Comp 25 (aka. Hugest Joke of a Computer Class Ever. And the teacher blinked one eye at a time! It was so weird!) anywhere but the Comp 25 classroom during class time and, subsequently, still have no idea how to do anything useful on Excel or, obviously, work with html. And I can only work on it in small increments of time so as to avoid taking the pair of scissors on my desk and jabbing myself in the eye with it. Someday I'd like to figure out how to fix the header so that there is no weird 1 1/2 inch of space on both sides where my masthead ends and the border begins. But until then...
ADDENDUM: Yay! I fixed it! I'm a wiener!
* And as I type this, I now realize in hindsight that I must have been unable to judge colors clearly as I was blinded by hunger.
ADDENDUM: Yay! I fixed it! I'm a wiener!
* And as I type this, I now realize in hindsight that I must have been unable to judge colors clearly as I was blinded by hunger.
8.19.2007
Uterus Schmuterus.orHey, at least I'm not talking about the smell of my pee.
I seem to be feeling the effects of overwhelming stress lately. I'm going to assume it's all work-related. I'm not really sure since I've never been one to actually recognize when I'm stressed out. Especially when it is in an academic or professional setting. I mean, I'll definitely feel pressure as much as the next guy, but when the time comes to perform you just, you know, do it, whether it's write a 20 page paper in one night, or manage 80x your body weight in band method books. (My personal life, however, is a whole different story. What do you mean you're going out for drinks with your buddies tonight when, instead, you should instincually know that it is my time of the month and what I really expect you to be doing is greeting me at the front door with a bouquet of fresh-picked wildflowers and Season 4 of Felicity on DVD which I will watch in its entirety as you rub my feet and repeatedly tell me that, no, I am not bloated but, rather, indescribably goddess-like and perfect? Pardon me as I spontaneously combust in an explosion of hormone-filled tears and proceed to not speak to you for the next two days... Hi Schmoobles!) Anyway, the whole point of this is that due to the over-surge of stress I have been feeling the last couple of weeks, I think my hormones have been raging out of control. And since I already went through the process of eating an unnecessarily large disgusting dinner from Jack in the Crack (They gave me lame normal fries instead of the glorious curly fries I requested. Hmph.) and then spontaneously chopping roughly half of my hair off in random chunky layers...By myself. In the bathroom. At one in the morning. In a fit of hormone-induced jealousy brought on by Keri Russell in all her button-nosed perfection in a guest appearance on a rerun of Scrubs...the next logical step would be to randomly change the color scheme of my blog at 2am.
OUT, YOU BLASTED HORMONES!!!
*shakes fist defiantly in the air.....then scampers off to rummage the kitchen cupboards for anything chocolate-related*
OUT, YOU BLASTED HORMONES!!!
*shakes fist defiantly in the air.....then scampers off to rummage the kitchen cupboards for anything chocolate-related*
8.17.2007
T.G.I.F. ...Jeopardy Style
Answer: Ysabel upstairs in the accounting office standing in the corner by herself eating chocolate chip cookies and downing shots of straight black coffee (no time for cream and sugar goddamnit!!!) while staring blankly into space.
Question: What do you find on the third straight day of unpacking and sorting through nearly $50,000 worth of band and orchestra method books?
-----
But it's done. And tomorrow morning, I will go to my beloved Salty's brunch buffet for the third time this summer with absolutely no feelings of guilt or over-indulgence because
1. My schmoobles is back! I made it through my first Drum Corps Summer. Hooray hooray hooray!!
and
2. Um, hello? See above.
Knowing ahead of time that this shipment was in all likelihood going to come crashing down on us on Wednesday, Greatest Print Assistant Ever and I went to dinner (and some refreshing adult beverages) after work on Tuesday in what we determined was a pre-emptive strike on the suckiness that the remainder of the week was inevitably going to bestow. We had Thai food (of course). And about that: Greatest Print Assistant Ever recommended we order this vegetarian appetizer, which, though it is commonly known as Miang Kum, shall henceforth be known to me only as The Most Amazingly Delicious Vegetarian Appetizer This Universe Has Ever Seen.* Get it sometime. Also, one of the beers listed on the menu was this one, which I found to be pretty darn cool. So I ordered it. And it was gooood.**
-----
On a closing note, let me just say that some 15 year old kid has been sitting at a piano here, playing the opening two bars of John Lennon's "Imagine" on one of our pianos repeatedly for the last 20 minutes. If that isn't a sign for me to call it a week, I don't know what is...
* Apparently, a physically and mentally beaten down Ysabel = repeated overuse of superlatives and/or hyperbole. Hm.
** How could it not be? Made in the Philippines! Just like me!
Question: What do you find on the third straight day of unpacking and sorting through nearly $50,000 worth of band and orchestra method books?
-----
But it's done. And tomorrow morning, I will go to my beloved Salty's brunch buffet for the third time this summer with absolutely no feelings of guilt or over-indulgence because
1. My schmoobles is back! I made it through my first Drum Corps Summer. Hooray hooray hooray!!
and
2. Um, hello? See above.
Knowing ahead of time that this shipment was in all likelihood going to come crashing down on us on Wednesday, Greatest Print Assistant Ever and I went to dinner (and some refreshing adult beverages) after work on Tuesday in what we determined was a pre-emptive strike on the suckiness that the remainder of the week was inevitably going to bestow. We had Thai food (of course). And about that: Greatest Print Assistant Ever recommended we order this vegetarian appetizer, which, though it is commonly known as Miang Kum, shall henceforth be known to me only as The Most Amazingly Delicious Vegetarian Appetizer This Universe Has Ever Seen.* Get it sometime. Also, one of the beers listed on the menu was this one, which I found to be pretty darn cool. So I ordered it. And it was gooood.**
-----
On a closing note, let me just say that some 15 year old kid has been sitting at a piano here, playing the opening two bars of John Lennon's "Imagine" on one of our pianos repeatedly for the last 20 minutes. If that isn't a sign for me to call it a week, I don't know what is...
* Apparently, a physically and mentally beaten down Ysabel = repeated overuse of superlatives and/or hyperbole. Hm.
** How could it not be? Made in the Philippines! Just like me!
8.14.2007
Yurgh.
I'm back from Drum Corps Land.
Report: Los Angeles, as a whole, sucks not as much as I had anticipated coming in, which is saying a lot considering I am a die-hard northern Kahlifornian. It also helps that we were not really in L.A. proper, but in Glendale and Pasadena, where the sunshine is plentiful and, more importantly, the humidity is not, and, most imporantly of all, the traffic is not a complete and utter clusterf*ck. I am sad that I did not get any David Beckham sightings, however.
Oh, and by the way? Shopping on Colorado Boulevard in Pasadena = AWESOME. Eating at Hooters on Colorado Boulevard in Pasadena, on the other hand...well, also awesome. Not because of the waitresses with the huge boobies (Clearly, I am not as interested in them as I am in large wieners ... hotdogs fresh off the grill, people. Just hotdogs fresh off the grill.). In fact, I relish in the fact that the boobie size always seems to be directly proportional to the haggard-ness of face of most Hooters waitresses. But I digress... It is because our poor waitress became so befuddled when another girl and I pointed out that she had not taken half-off the price of our Happy Hour nachos, that she ended up un-knowingly taking them completely off the tab, thereby leaving us both with free dinner. Score!
Anyway, there's much more to share. Like how I nearly shoved a man in the security line at Sea-Tac airport for being obnoxious (read: I was PMS-ing). And how I got to drive around in the cutest periwinkle-blue (ladies, you know what I'm talking about) rental PT Cruiser* despite a) not having enough money in my checking account to pay for the deposit (payday was 2 days away...) despite some very generous emergency bank deposits from my wonderful sister, and b) having expired insurance cards in my wallet (I seem to have been issued new ones a week before and had not put a copy in my wallet). Tell me how I got away with that one, because even I am not sure. Oh, and how I was partaking in aforementioned awesome shopping on Colorado Boulevard, when some strange dude stood next to me at the crosswalk and said, "Hey. Nice sweater." And, yes, it's true I was wearing a lovely yellow Old Navy cardigan so I, trying my very hardest to conjure up the very last remaining vestiges of non-cynicism in my blackened soul said, "Thanks." And then he said, "I know it probably sounds creepy for some guy to say that. At least I didn't say 'Nice bod' or anything." And then I said, "...Hahaha. Yeah, I guess I can take a sweater compliment." And then as our signal turned green, he proceeded to walk next to me on the sidewalk and hand me a chocolate while saying, "Here. Have a chocolate." At which point I said, "Uh. No thanks." And then he said, "I swear I'm not being creepy. They gave it to me when I got my latte. Go ahead." So I took the Random LA Stranger Chocolate, while casually working into the weird conversation that I was on my way to meet a bunch of friends at Hooters which just happened to be a block up the road. So that ended that. Needless to say, I did not eat the Stranger Chocolate. I'm sure it was delicious.
In the meantime, however, I can only concentrate on one thing and it is this:
I had a lesson scheduled with a certain master of the devil stick -- he of Yes-I-Am-A-Complete-Bad@$$-And-Am-A-Former-Clarinetist-With-the-F*ing-Metropolitan-Opera-Orchestra fame -- tomorrow. That is, until I found out earlier today that I've got 250 boxes of band method books coming in tomorrow. Which means that I will beknee waist shoulder eyeballs deep in books and paper cuts all day long. Which means there is no way I would be able to make the lesson time. Which means I had to call the Devil Stick Master up to cancel the lesson. Which means he called me back to let me know that, while he appreciated that I gave him 24 hours notice and that he knows that life gets in the way often times (okay, this is good...), he wanted me to know that he is very busy (*starts sweating ever so slightly*) and had to turn down several other people for that time slot (*commences surge of self-hatred*) would appreciate it if I would schedule my lessons for a time when I am sure to not have to cancel (*stabs self in heart*). And if you know me, you know that this is something that I will obsess and kick myself in the nuts (oh, if only t'were possible...) repeatedly over this until roughly one month's time from now when things semi-settle down at work and I can reschedule another lesson with the Devil Stick Master, providing me the opportunity to behave in such a manner as to be both professional yet delightfully witty while in his company and playing the devil stick so soothingly that I am instantly thrown back into his good graces. Blaaaah.
And in the I-Apologize-To-My-Father-and-Brothers-In-Advance-Oh-and-What-the-Hell-to-All-of-My-Relatives-As-Well-For-What-I-Am-About-To-Say department: I think I may be getting a bacterial infection in my hoo-hah. The tell-tale signs are in the smell of my piss. Boooo stress!!!
*scampers off to drink 3 gallons of water*
* Which, by the way, while looking very cute, has not nearly the pick-up that my beloved (un)Lucky has, nor the ease of side mirror/blind spot viewing. So (un)Lucky wins this battle.
Report: Los Angeles, as a whole, sucks not as much as I had anticipated coming in, which is saying a lot considering I am a die-hard northern Kahlifornian. It also helps that we were not really in L.A. proper, but in Glendale and Pasadena, where the sunshine is plentiful and, more importantly, the humidity is not, and, most imporantly of all, the traffic is not a complete and utter clusterf*ck. I am sad that I did not get any David Beckham sightings, however.
Oh, and by the way? Shopping on Colorado Boulevard in Pasadena = AWESOME. Eating at Hooters on Colorado Boulevard in Pasadena, on the other hand...well, also awesome. Not because of the waitresses with the huge boobies (Clearly, I am not as interested in them as I am in large wieners ... hotdogs fresh off the grill, people. Just hotdogs fresh off the grill.). In fact, I relish in the fact that the boobie size always seems to be directly proportional to the haggard-ness of face of most Hooters waitresses. But I digress... It is because our poor waitress became so befuddled when another girl and I pointed out that she had not taken half-off the price of our Happy Hour nachos, that she ended up un-knowingly taking them completely off the tab, thereby leaving us both with free dinner. Score!
Anyway, there's much more to share. Like how I nearly shoved a man in the security line at Sea-Tac airport for being obnoxious (read: I was PMS-ing). And how I got to drive around in the cutest periwinkle-blue (ladies, you know what I'm talking about) rental PT Cruiser* despite a) not having enough money in my checking account to pay for the deposit (payday was 2 days away...) despite some very generous emergency bank deposits from my wonderful sister, and b) having expired insurance cards in my wallet (I seem to have been issued new ones a week before and had not put a copy in my wallet). Tell me how I got away with that one, because even I am not sure. Oh, and how I was partaking in aforementioned awesome shopping on Colorado Boulevard, when some strange dude stood next to me at the crosswalk and said, "Hey. Nice sweater." And, yes, it's true I was wearing a lovely yellow Old Navy cardigan so I, trying my very hardest to conjure up the very last remaining vestiges of non-cynicism in my blackened soul said, "Thanks." And then he said, "I know it probably sounds creepy for some guy to say that. At least I didn't say 'Nice bod' or anything." And then I said, "...Hahaha. Yeah, I guess I can take a sweater compliment." And then as our signal turned green, he proceeded to walk next to me on the sidewalk and hand me a chocolate while saying, "Here. Have a chocolate." At which point I said, "Uh. No thanks." And then he said, "I swear I'm not being creepy. They gave it to me when I got my latte. Go ahead." So I took the Random LA Stranger Chocolate, while casually working into the weird conversation that I was on my way to meet a bunch of friends at Hooters which just happened to be a block up the road. So that ended that. Needless to say, I did not eat the Stranger Chocolate. I'm sure it was delicious.
In the meantime, however, I can only concentrate on one thing and it is this:
I had a lesson scheduled with a certain master of the devil stick -- he of Yes-I-Am-A-Complete-Bad@$$-And-Am-A-Former-Clarinetist-With-the-F*ing-Metropolitan-Opera-Orchestra fame -- tomorrow. That is, until I found out earlier today that I've got 250 boxes of band method books coming in tomorrow. Which means that I will be
And in the I-Apologize-To-My-Father-and-Brothers-In-Advance-Oh-and-What-the-Hell-to-All-of-My-Relatives-As-Well-For-What-I-Am-About-To-Say department: I think I may be getting a bacterial infection in my hoo-hah. The tell-tale signs are in the smell of my piss. Boooo stress!!!
*scampers off to drink 3 gallons of water*
* Which, by the way, while looking very cute, has not nearly the pick-up that my beloved (un)Lucky has, nor the ease of side mirror/blind spot viewing. So (un)Lucky wins this battle.
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