Post-Christmas Notes.

1. Hey, want to know what's quite possibly The Worst Idea Ys Has Ever Come Up With in the Entire History of the Universe? Suggesting that she and a couple friends from college meet up in San Francisco. At Macy's in Union Square. On THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS. I mean, you can try and pull that off with your friends if you want. Just know that it will probably result in over an hour of endless illegal cellphone calls while driving, trying to figure out where exactly the other people are amidst the sea of Asian shoppers gathered in clumps of 100 apiece whose sole purpose is to cross the street and GET IN YOUR GODDAMN WAY WHEN ALL YOU WANT TO DO IS TURN RIGHT ONTO ELLIS OR MARKET SO YOU CAN EFFING FIND A BLASTED PARKING GARAGE THAT HAS SPACE IN IT.* Oh, and you will eventually give up on finding any available space in a nearby public parking garage and end up getting valet parking at a luxury hotel so that you can goddamn finally meet your friends for lunch. And your 90 minutes of parking will inevitably cost more than your entire meal. Wheee! Fun! But anyway, a visit to SF just isn't complete without a handful of death threats directed at various pedestrians and fellow drivers, so it was all good. 

2. I may have quite a difficult time getting BB to come with me back to Texas at the end of my vacation. She and my dad are serious BFFs4EVA. I'm pretty sure my dad spends half of his day  looking up information about Shih Tzus online. 

3. Speaking of Krazy Eyez Killa: you know what's totally awesome? The fact that my parents' house has brown carpeting that is the exact same shade as BB's turds. So that when she gets overly excited and doesn't *ahem* make it to her poo box in time, you can bet the I will be spending the next 10 minutes slowly scanning the entire living room and staircase because I can smell the poo, but cannot for the life of me see it anywhere. Tons of fun.

4. Oh, and can I tell you how amazing it was to finally expose Schmoobliebuns to the annual family Christmas party? Such a great time! And there is not one hint of sarcasm in there whatsoever, for realzies! He met the aunts, uncles, cousins, etc. who all lurved him and partook in our traditional family gift exchange(s). He walked away with The World's Ugliest Christmas Mug ever. But it also came with giftcards to Outback Steakhouse and Home Depot, so it was all good. And I got 2 boxes of lady fingers cookies (don't ask) and a beautiful crisp $50 bill. Did you hear that, Chez Target? It has been too long, my love. I'll be seeing you soon...

* Regarding all these shoppers: WTF? I thought we were supposed to be in some kind of economic crisis. Why weren't you all at home huddling under layers of old newspaper to stay warm instead of shopping at Union Square and annoying the hell out of me? Geez.

Merry Christmas!

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

OMG.   WTF.   LOL.

Am I turning into one of those people?

(The kind that dresses up their doggy in obnoxious adorable little sweaters and coats, doy. Especially awesome red and white festive hoodies found in the dollar section at Target. Score!)

In other news: Happy Christmas Eve!

In other other news: It looks like Schmooblebuns will be joining our annual extended family Christmas Party madness for the first time this year. Wish him luck! Haha.

Of course I'm starting to get sick on vacation.

If you find yourself awake at one o'clock in the morning, surfing the intarwebs and nursing a killer sore throat that is escalating exponentially in intensity with every passing second, to the point that the simple act of laughing is like a fiery serrated dagger through the esophagus, then you should probably NOT watch this video:

or this video:

or look at this picture:

In other news: my dad and BB are seriously BFFs now...

Greetings

I am interrupting my 20-hour sleep cycle (god I love vacations) to tell you all that I just typed this in a gChat with a friend of mine from Seattle: 

Yeah, normally BB is very playful, but she's scared sh*tless (or shih tless...haha!) of Xander.

In other news: my sister's house currently is housing, among other things, a 3-year old toddler, a 7-year old little girl, a 4-month old un-fixed shih tzu named BB, a 3-month old husky/lab mix named Xander who finds BB's nether regions quite appetizing, and a 20-something year old caffeine-addicted ornery clarinet teacher. Yeesh, back to sleep.

Dear Blahg.

Yesterday I went out in a pair of thin jeans, a t-shirt and sandals because it was in the high 60s. Today, counting windchill, it was SIXTEEN F*ING DEGREES. Blergh. Good thing I decided to go to work in dress sandals (no socks) and a light sweater-coat. At 6:30 in the morning. You know, because it was so nice yesterday and everything. BOO.

Also: What better time to find out that Kablooie's windshield wipers are pure sh*t than when you are driving home from work in the rain on a major interstate, with the temperature so arctic-like that the rain literally freezes upon landing on the glass, and the wipers do nothing but gently nudge the slush around but not off of the windshield. Whee! What fun! And by "fun" I mean "complete diarrhea-inducing terror."

Harumph.

Well hello there. I will have you know that unless your name is Dan, Kristina, Linda, Bela or BB and have a tiny little box on the left with your representative profile picture, then you no longer exist to me and I insist that you immediately evacuate the premises. Because I have no patience for people who cannot follow simple instructions. Especially if those instructions involve doing something that strokes my everloving ego. 

Just kidding just kidding just kidding. Come back!!! I totally need you to keep reading. It makes me feel good about myself. 

Now seriously. Go add yourself to my follower list. 

In other news: BB had a salon appointment (grooming at PETCO) today and came back looking like a completely different puppy! Mainly shorter, less maniacal knotted fur. If I could find my eff-ing camera battery charger, I would totally post a picture on here. But I can't. So I won't. The groomers reported that she had been an especially difficult little customer, to which I responded, "What the hell are you talking about? She's a lady. She would never act out. Never mind the fact that her nickname around the house is Krazy Eyez Killa." (True story...I mean about the nickname. Not about saying that stuff. Out loud.) Anyway. I think it's the combination of a vet visit yesterday for Round 2 of puppy shots followed 24 hours later by the grooming appointment that made her a little (or a lot) anxious. Good thing she has no idea she's going to be on a plane for 5 hours in just a few days... Baby Benadryl, you better do your magic!

On a related note: Wheeee! I go home in a few days!!

Also on a related note: Bela is taking full advantage of a worn-out and drained BB and has been sitting on the couch back directly behind me, just staring down at BB - who has been sleeping next to me - for the last 30 minutes. I can only assume that he is visualizing his plan of attack. 

In other other news: Last night I totally caved and had a big bowl of creamy potato and broccoli soup for dinner. It was delicious. And then today I woke up to find that my Hoo-Hah is broken again. Ugh. Coincidence? I think not. At least it was a good excuse to go to Target and get a gigantic bottle of cranberry juice. And maybe a couple cans of Smokehouse Almonds and some chocolate chip cookies... Whatever, they were on sale.

One other thing: It would appear that every other person on Facebook, when not talking about how it is snowing in their respective location or how sick they are, is posting their status as being "[such percentage] done with his/her Christmas shopping." Is it bad that I am precisely 0% done with my Christmas shopping? Hm. It doesn't bother me. Maybe it should...? Meh. I'll get around to it. 

I'm looking at you, Reader from Plano.

Look over to the left on my sidebar. You will please notice that I added a little feature there for people to out themselves as someone who reads my blahg. See that thing over there right underneath the picture of me playing the clarinet? With the blue letters that say "Follow This Blog". Yeah, that.  Click on it and add yourself. Because, frankly, when I am not busy stabbing shards of clarinet reed repeatedly into my eyeballs in order to escape from the nightmare of teaching the same basic rhythm (I'm talking half notes, people. Half notes and quarter notes.) and key signature over and over and over AND OVER again for hours on end - you can usually find me at home, chugging sipping a cup of coffee and wondering who in the world is reading this thing. I know my family does. I know some of my friends from California, Tennessee and Seattle do. I've even got some virtual friends who read from across an entire expanse of ocean! But, goddamnit, there's somebody who lives in Plano and reads my lame nonsensical random musings on a regular basis and I want to know who you are!!

I know, not bloody likely. But it's worth a shot, anyway. Um, because if you, Reader from Plano, happen to be the parent of one of the truly joyful cherubs who I teach clarinet lessons to on a weekly basis, then please believe me when I say that the quality of topics (namely: poop and farts) that I choose to write about have nothing to do with the quality of teaching that your blessed angel receives! I promise! *nervous laughter* And feel free to ignore that part above about me taking pieces of reed and jabbing it into my eye. Or the post before where I wrote about picking up a middle school child and throwing them across the room. I tooootally didn't mean that... (psst, you guys, yes I did). 

Anyway, go add yourselves to my reader list - even if you're not my Mystery Reader from Plano. I mean, geeeez, my own eff-ing cat and dog did it -- and do you know how hard it is to work the touchpad on this laptop with a tiny furry paw?? It will give me ever so much joy. Almost as much as a Star*ucks grande soy latte with one pump each of white mocha, toffee nut and raspberry. I've written about this drink before, and something tells me you haven't tried it yet. Loser. Go do it. Merry Christmas.

The Ghosts of Knoxville Past...on Facebook.

Remember in my former life when I worked for the KSO and I was irritated on a daily basis by Crazy Lunatic Supervisor? I wrote about her many many times. Such as in all these posts. Christmas seems to have come a little early for me this year since she eff-ing sent me a Facebook friend request the day after Thanksgiving. HAW! Makes me laugh. Anyway. Part of me really wants bygones to be bygones and just accept the request (whilst blocking any access and information to my blog url...um, for obvious reasons). But then another part of me - named Ben or Daddy #1 - absolutely forbids even the notion of it. It seems that - while no longer my supervisor - this woman remains to be both crazy and a lunatic, which has resulted in a bit of bad blood between these two. So, as it stands, her request shall remain ignored indefinitely. 

But in related news: this has not stopped me from snooping around on Crazy Lunatic Supervisor's Facebook profile and learning that OMG OMG OMG this crazy biatch has a Facebook page too! Wow, I didn't realize hateful, fugly trolls were allowed to have Facebook accounts now. I guess as long as you have an email address. In any case, I haven't figured out what to do with this newfound knowledge yet, but I'm sure I'll come up with something.

***

In other news:

1. How is it eff-ing December already?! Jeebus. Wasn't it summer just, like, yesterday? No, seriously, where is the time going? Yeesh.

2. So what did you learn over Thanksgiving, children? Oh, hey, I learned that my eff-ing gums are receding. That's a fun thing to realize and subsequently obsess over endlessly - to the extent that you dreamt for the past two nights about nothing except going to Target and buying a soft bristle toothbrush. Ugh. How dare my gums recede?! I, who spends the first ten minutes of every morning brushing away like a maniac, and then gargling and rinsing with mouthwash until my mouth feels like it's melting away in a pool of acid. ...Oh. Maybe there's my answer. Anyway, after Googling the hell out of "receding gums" this past weekend, I have come to the confusing conclusion that I need to somehow clean my mouth better while not brushing my teeth as hard as I do. Damnit. Blergh. I guess I'll be flossing twenty times a day now. With an average of 3 showers a day, I guess it won't be a big deal to add one more obsessive activity to my hygeine routine. Oy, such is life.

3. Speaking of: Hey, you know what you should make sure to do if you, not only eff-ing have receding gums, but are also down to your final precious puff of your asthma inhaler and last 5 pills of your daily asthma medication? Decide to be a self-employed musician who can't afford health insurance. Yeah, that's it. It adds just that last little bit of sour inustice to the whole thing. 

4. Oh, and in case you were wondering:

"Look to the southwest after sunset on Dec. 1 for a close conjunction between three bright solar system objects: the moon, Venus and Jupiter. If you have binoculars you might be even able to fit all three of them in the field of view." More info here.

Happiness is...

...sleeping in on Saturday morning, playing with the President of The Finer Things Club and the Princess of Team Cuddle, fixing a big cup of coffee flavored with Pumpkin Spice creamer and watching What Not To Wear reruns on TLC.

...not having checked the mail in the last 2 days and hoping upon hope that there may be some checks there waiting for you so that you can get started on a little bit of holiday shopping this weekend!

...going online and checking out the new Christmas albums out this year and listening to some audio clips to decide which ones I like.

...sitting down and figuring out what I want to get the members of my family for Christmas this year. 

...looking forward to going home and hanging out with my family and friends!

...having an entire kitchen and refrigerator full of Thanksgiving leftovers.

...have I mentioned the big cup of Pumpkin Spice coffee? Man, that stuff is good.

*****

A post from Ysabel that has no underlying whininess or sarcasm? Clearly, some sort of supernatural event took place last night and my body was overtaken by aliens. 

I hope you are all reading this while recovering from a severe turkey coma.

Fact: If I were a contestant on Top Chef and the challenge was to create an entire Thanksgiving dinner in 4 hours with only 2 pots, 1 pan and 1 big knife then I would totally win. And the menu would include chicken (you can call it a miniature turkey in your head if you like) and vegetables, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes and gravy, lumpia (hell yes) and apple pie. 

Note: the lumpia ended up being what I called "Mexican shaped lumpias" because - goddamnit - I spent 20 minutes roaming the aisles of a very crowded Kroger this morning looking for proper lumpia or wonton wrappers and could not find any. So I had to settle for empanada wrappers which, due to their smaller size and greater thickness, do not wrap in a roll very easily, so I had to make what were essentially empanadas with lumpia filling inside. Still delicious. 

Note again: Speaking of, the grocery store was very crowded this morning thankyouverymuch. So I didn't feel so bad. Until I noticed that nobody except for us was pushing around full shopping carts but only, for the most part, bread rolls and/or booze. Hm.

Also note: Okay okay okay, I totally bought the chicken pre-cooked. They were on sale for $5 and allowed me the advantage of not having to reach inside the cold hollow carcass of a dead bird and dig out its neck and giblets. Barf. I did dress it up with added seasoning and vegetables and reheated it in the oven, so I think I get half a point. 

Final note: You know what I totally recommend? Making an apple pie that has a regular crust on the bottom but brown sugar crisp on top. Holy Moses, so tasty.

Hope you all had a good one.

T-minus 12 hours (the "T" is for Turkey).

Happy Night Before Turkey Day Day! (Did that make sense?) Hm. Anyway, apparently we have decided to celebrate by not having gone to the grocery store to buy ingredients for Thanksgiving dinner yet. What is wrong with us?!

Tomorrow morning's agenda includes going to Star*ucks (but of course) and then heading to the store to count how many other lame people are going Thanksgiving grocery shopping ON THANKSGIVING DAY. Criminy.

It's not so bad this time.orHurray for 2 day work weeks!

Fact: Anything-cream pies made with Jello pudding mix and soymilk are both lame and non-delicious. Harumph. I must accept the fact that anything-cream pies are only delicious when the recipe includes nothing instant and powdered of any kind and involves cream cheese and whipped cream. Also, I must accept the fact that there is now an entire-minus-one-trial-slice improvised peanut butter and banana cream pie in my refrigerator which, tomorrow, will get thrown in the trash. Note: Instant "banana cream" pudding mix tastes less like banana cream and more like banana candy-flavored cream. Blargh.

Also, I just finished hand-writing out about 20 envelopes (About half of my total studio...the rest are paid in scholarship money through the districts. Huzzah! But only if the district actually pays me on time!) in order to mail out my monthly clarinet-teaching invoices to various band parent homes in the area. Please Jeebus let these parents be timely in their sending in payment because my bank account is dangerously low and the only thing more soul-smashing than walking through Target and being unable to purchase anything is walking through Target during the holiday shopping season and being unable to purchase anything. Ouch my heart hurts!

The lemon meringue was not enough.

Is it possible to make a banana cream pie using soy milk? I guess I'll find out later today.

ps. Holy heavens, I love Fridays. 

Two posts in one day...

...because the fact that I just carried 12 bags of groceries up to my top floor apartment in one trip deserves its own post, Goddamnit!

1. Yes, I bought a pie. But two minutes before admitting defeat and heading to the checkout line, I went back and exchanged my coconut cream pie for a lemon meringue. Victory!

2. Okay. Until my cellphone bill due date - which is in two days - I will happily remain in denial that I just spent the last hour accumulating a $60 grocery tab. HOWEVER. That is probably equal to a mere two or three dinners out with Schmooblz, so I think my 12 bags worth of groceries is probably a smart purchase in the long run. Right? Even the jar of Maraschino cherries that I bought? Right?!

3. You know what's even better than an ice cold glass of crack diet Coke? An ice cold glass of diet Coke with some Maraschino cherries in it. So I bought a bottle of diet Coke and some Maraschino cherries. So sue me! Geez.

4. You know what's a surefire way to get dangerously-close-to-middle-aged men to come up and say random quasi-flirtatious things to you? Wear a short skirt and then hang out at the produce section.

5. Yes, it is the middle of November and I wore a short skirt and flip flops out in the evening to go to the grocery store. What is this place??!!

***

ps. OMG Have you seen the new Gmail page themes? I changed mine to the "Planets" theme and, upon seeing it, literally clapped my hands and said "Yay! Yay! Yay!"

You know those days when you fantasize about picking up your 12-year old clarinet student over your head and throwing them across the room?

No? Oh, okay, well just know that those days are usually a result of having to repeat a reminder to "play C sharp" over and over and over and over again ad nauseam until something (my brain) snaps. A rundown of my responses in sequence everytime a student forgets to play the key signature:

1. Oops! Remember! C sharp!

2. Haha! Remember?

3. Yep! C sharp, right?

4. Oh, haha. You forgot the C sharp!

5. Oop! Yep! Sharp!

6. C sharp, remember?

7. Look at the key signature! C sharp!

8. Remember the key signature in D Major? C sharp! Right?

9. Key signature! C sharp!

.....

26. Remember the fingering I showed you? Okay.

27. You forgot again! Oops! C sharp!

28. C sharp.

29. C sharp!

30. C sharp!!

31. C SHAAARP!!!

.....

98. CsharpCsharpCsharpCsharp

99. *silence* (deep breathing)

100. C SHAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUGGGGHHH   *jumps over cliff*

.....Aaaand that was my day today. Only a new episode of Top Chef (hurray!) can make the boo boo go away. 

ps. I am craving a coconut and/or banana cream pie like nobody's business. Unfortunately - as is consistent with the tragic life of an idiot one who chooses to get two music degrees - I must choose between buying non-essential tasty treats at the grocery store or paying my cellphone bill. Blergh.

ETA:

I was just in the shower (Second one of the day, thankyouverymuch. And yes, I will probably have another one before bed as well. Leave me alone.) when two things occurred to me:

1. That I will be paid a teensy little bit tomorrow, so I could technically pay both for a coconut and/or banana cream pie and my cellphone bill and then cross my fingers and toes that my end-of-the-month paycheck(s) arrive in my mailbox before the next round of bills comes and punches me in the face. 

2.  That an anything-cream pie is most likely not allowed in a dairy-free diet. BLERRGH! Off to the grocery store to find out just how strong my willpower really is. (The fact that I am even going to the grocery store already shows how little restraint I have)

The Finer Things Club and Team Cuddle

Breaking news: Whatevs Household Breaks Into Two Opposing Factions!

Remember on The Office when Pam, Toby and Oscar formed the "Finer Things Club", which held meetings to discuss art and culture in a very civilized manner? It has been officially established that Bela and I have formed our own very exclusive and sophisticated Finer Things Club in the apartment.

Our Finer Things clubhouse is the bedroom which, incoincidentally, is the only room in the apartment that little BB is not allowed. There, Bela and I sit and drink tea in peace while looking smugly upon Schmooblebuns and BB, and discuss things like Mozart, smelling pleasant, our ability to urinate in the proper place 100% of the time, twentieth century German literature, our appreciation for all things neat and orderly, grooming tips, and the virtues of taking multiple showers/baths every day.

In response, Schmoobs has initiated BB into his "Team Cuddle" (established at The University of Tennessee with his hetero boyfriend Jim Bob ... don't ask), where they participate in such disdainful things as eating their own poo (so far only one member has been known to partake - but you never know with this bunch), living in complete filth, expelling an unpleasant variety of bodily sounds and odors, running maniacally around the entire apartment (except for the Finer Things clubhouse, of course) until you run face first into a large piece of furniture (again, only one member, but, well, you know) and spend the next 10 minutes sulking on the living room couch which, incidentally, is now the unofficial Team Cuddle clubhouse.

Last night, during a bedtime meeting of the Finer Things Club, Bela and I were sitting in bed enjoying each others' pleasant-smelling and sophisticated company and discussing the day's news events (okay, I was reading the news online while Bela bathed himself) when this dialogue took place between the opposing factions:

Schmoobs (yelling from the Team Cuddle clubhouse): "Hey! I think I should be allowed in the Finer Things Club!"

Ysabel: "Uh, hon, I think BB has a better shot at getting into the Finer Things Club than you do."

Schmoobs: "But I pee and poop where I'm supposed to! ...Yeah, you're right."


* a few minutes later, at the Team Cuddle clubhouse *


Schmoobs: "AAAGH! BB! Get off my face!!"

*FART*

*****

And, as per Jessica's request:

Don't we all feel like this on weekday mornings?

This is how I feel when Knuckles taps me on the shoulder in the middle of the night and tells me not to be scared.

The Princess of Team Cuddle tries to curry favor with the reigning President of The Finer Things Club.

Her cuteness is too overwhelming for anybody but Bela, who refuses to be swayed.

Honestly, BB, the biggest thing that's hindering your admission into the Club is your obvious hatred of baths. The members of The Finer Things Club just cannot turn a blind eye to that.

Rare footage of one of the very few times that Team Cuddle was allowed to infiltrate the Finer Things clubhouse. As hinted at earlier, one of BB's favorite pastimes is behaving like a crazed lunatic and trying any means possible to jump on your head and lick your face into submission. The most effective protection that we have found is to run and cover our heads with a blanket. Here, you can observe just how uncouth Team Cuddle is, as the members turn on each other. Observe at :26, Bela's obvious disdain for the uncivilized shenanigans of Team Cuddle.

This is more like it.

So last night I dreamt that I was in a scene with Liz Lemon in an episode of 30 Rock (If you don't know of who/what I speak, then we cannot be friends. Sorry.), when she got frustrated with all the people in the cast and stomped off in a huff saying, "Fine. I'll just go hang out with the bacon then." Ah, Tina Fey and fried salted cured meat. I guess this is what dreams really are made of?

ps. The Sinus Headache of Doom remains. Driving home from work today, I attempted to blow my nose at a stoplight, which resulted only in triggering a sneezing fit so violent that I think the person stopped next to me probably thought I was having an epileptic seizure. Well, I guess now it's starting to feel more Winter...

I'm all about lists these days.orI'm totally lazy.

1. Hey, you know what happens when you annoy the universe by whining on your blog about the pleasantly sunny and warm weather down South? It will wake you up at 3am with a series of 13 violent sneezes in a row (I counted) and then curse you with a horrible sinus headache at work so that you are left with little else to do but muster all of your strength (caffeine) to physically hold your head upright with both of your hands while you attempt to talk to a high school kid about the Circle of Fifths and key signatures. Oh, and then the temperature will drop like ten degrees from yesterday, with thunderstorms approaching, just in time for you to go to work before the sun rises with no sweater or umbrella. 

2. Note to self: Never complain about warm weather in November ever again. 

3. But here's what I learned: the go-to lesson plan when your brain has turned to mush as a result of popping 2 Sudafed Sinus Headache pills and washing it down with a diet Coke? Sight-reading duets! Less talking by me! Fun for all!

4. Last night, before I was awoken with the aforementioned sneezefest, I dreamt that I had reached a mental state of "endonnite." This, sadly, does not exist in real life. However, in my dream, it was a spiritual and mental state of such an advanced stage that one was able to stop time and exist in that space for any length of time that you desired. Anyway. I remember the term "endonnite" being very vivid in my dream as I repeated the term over and over and over again, I think even as I began to regain consciousness. And I think there was also something in my dream about how the term involved the ideas of "end" and "night." And then I woke up by sneezing 13 times in a row.

5. No, I did not eat any special mushrooms yesterday, thankyouverymuch.

6. Maybe this is a side effect of cheese withdrawal? 

Was it just me, or was this weekend like ten seconds long?

1. The other day I was driving in between teaching gigs when, out of the blue, a screw fell out from Kablooie's ceiling and hit me right on top of my head. My immediate thought was, "Ah...and here we have the beginning of the end." 

2. List of things that Ysabel has not been able to say no to in the past 3 days, despite her dairy allergy: genuine half & half in her coffee, a pat of butter on top of her pancakes, honey mustard dipping sauce for her chicken tenders, Ranch dressing with her french fries. I'm only human, people.

3. At Target today (note: Wheeee!), I took a moment to peruse all the lovely Holiday decorations and cards. However, I was also dressed in flip-flops and a tank top and, hence, emotionally and psychologically* unable to embrace the Christmas spirit. Bah humbug.  So I went and bought a boring old notebook, a bag of fruit snacks and a bottle of Diet Coke Plus instead. 

4. Gas here is now BELOW the $2 mark! Woooooooooot.

5. Seriously, you guys. I need some friends. It's only a matter of time before the Star*ucks drive-thru barista calls security on me.

* I kept trying to spell "psychologically" with a "ph--" and got increasingly frustrated trying to figure out why the word looked so wrong. Methinks it is time to go back to grad school.

It's 1pm on Saturday and I've already taken 2 naps.orI took a Benadryl before bed last night.orClearly, I need a Star*ucks latte.

I love the Holiday Season. Aside from my family, friends and Star*ucks lattes, there quite possibly is nothing I love more. That being said, I cannot seem to get into the holiday spirit here because it is f*ing November and is still in the mid-70s outside. Un-f*-ing-acceptable. My brain is so unwilling to equate warm weather with the holidays, that I went to a Star*ucks drive-thru on Thursday (thank Jeebus for my weekly 3pm 15-minute break during my Day of Clarinet Teaching Hell) to get some coffee and, when I was handed the red holiday cup*, I just stared at it with a confused look on my face. And then when I finally came to my senses, I yelled at the barista, "Ah!! Holiday Cuuuups!! Yaaaay!!!" 

Also: Top 2 Things That I Cannot Stop Thinking About Ever Since I Realized That I Have A Dairy Allergy:

1. Ice Cream

2. Jalapeno Poppers from Arby's (deliciously poisonous cream cheese filling)

* Red Holiday Cups! Squeeeee!

GOBAMA GOBAMA GOBAMA*

I think I may be the last person on this continent to blog about last night's historic election. That's right people. It's almost November 6 and I still haven't blogged about the election! I think that makes me a.....Maverick! Wait, what? We're not doing that anymore? My bad.

Anyway, in eleven minutes I will have lost my chance to officially post on my blog on the day after this great historic election. And I shouldn't wait to blog until tomorrow because Thursdays are my official Eleven Straight Hours of Teaching Clarinet Lessons Dear God Please Use Your Magical Powers to Send Me An Iced Latte From the Heavens Or I Will Take This Reed and Jab It Into My Eye Socket Day and I, therefore, will not have time to post at the end of the day as I will be too busy being resuscitated because I accidentally drowned myself after dunking my head into a giant punchbowl full of vodka. So I have to say this now: Last night's election was so thrilling that I literally injured my groin in excitement! 

I mean, I don't know if that's even possible, but I did stay up until midnight watching CNN (note: and then listened to NPR all day the next day...when did I turn into my father?!), took a shower, went to bed, woke up at 5:30am, pressed the snooze button every 5 minutes until 6:05am, took a shower, and went to work realizing that I had pulled my groin at some point during the last 12 hours. 

Also: Live Streaming Puppies!!!

* (ETA 11/6: I just realized I put this asterisk here yesterday because I had something clever to add. However, I see now that I never did write in any asterisk. And I've forgotten what it was I was going to say. Oh well. I'm sure it was something deliciously witty and clever.)

Whatup.

Is it just me, or has this blog just devolved into a series of weekly quasi-apologies for the lengthy stretches of non-posting? Whatever. Take what you can get.

Quick notes: 

1. I am 80.2% certain that I am not merely lactose intolerant, which I have known about for many many years, but allergic to dairy as a whole. Never have I craved ice cream more in my entire life. 

Note to self that I wish I had known last week: You're breaking out everywhere and suffering from a chronic case of The Broken Hoo-Hah despite chugging 64 ounces of cranberry juice in 5 minutes.* PUT DOWN THAT BUBBLE MILK TEA AND BOXFUL OF ICE CREAM DRUMSTICKS!! Yeesh.

1a. There is one drumstick left in the freezer (I ate the other 7 last week...ugh) and it is taking all of me right now to not finish it off. Despite my pleas to Schmoobleblurgh to JUST EAT IT ALREADY PLEASE, it still sits there, just begging me to eat its poisonously delicious self. 

2. Can the school district please f*ing pay me for teaching clarinet lessons already?! The longer Schmooblebutt has to shoulder my share of finances, the more I feel like a Kept Woman, which is nicht so gut.  Not to mention the fact that my last several visits to Target have involved only... *shudder* ...necessary purchases. Drano Max, dishwasher detergent, toothpaste, etc. Ugh, stab me in the heart already. 

3. Okay, one great thing about living in Texas? This place. Specifically, some heavenly Salvadorian dish called "Churrasco Tipico" or as it is informally known (in my head): "Orgasm on a Plate" (ew). We have eaten here more than a handful of times - most recently, about 3 hours ago...Schmooblebuttocks paid...I am a Kept Woman! Ugh ugh ugh! - and I have never ordered anything else but this dish. It is THAT good. 

4. Is #3 enough to entice any of you to come down here and visit me? Blaaaar I want my friends!!

5. Last night I went to see Jon Manasse perform the Brahms Clarinet Sonata in F Minor and Bartok's Contrasts. If you non-clarinerds don't know who he is, just Google him. He is amazing. His technique is amazing. His sound is beyond amazing...or as I like to call it (in my head): "Orgasm from a Devil Stick" (ew). 

6. I have been asked by the clarinet professor at the university at which Schmoobinz is employed (unofficially: The University of Whyyy in Texas? WhyGodWhyyyyyy?!) to teach their studio class this Friday. Terribly exciting. Except perhaps for one of the undergrad clarinet majors who, upon being told earlier that she would be playing for me in the studio class asked, "Oh no! Ysabel's not mean is she?" And who, upon meeting me at the concert last night, heard this as my response, "Oh, you have nothing to be nervous about! I'm really nice! ...I mean, unless you're really bad or something..." Ahem. I don't think she quite read my sarcastic tone correctly, as she scampered away like a little mouse and didn't speak to me for the rest of the evening. Whoopsie daisies!

* Not recommended. Unless you want to feel instantly nauseous and on the verge of giving birth to a gigantic basketball-sized cranberry.

Happy Monday (I'm totally being sarcastic).

You know what the best way to start a Monday morning is? 

Waking up at 5:30am, spending the next 5 minutes in the harsh blinding light of your bathroom failing at numerous attempts to stick a contact lens in your right eyeball because your eyelids refuse to be crammed open wide enough to accomodate a contact lens that early in the morning, getting on the road 45 minutes later only to be greeted by horribly unusual traffic, causing you to spend 20 minutes inching down 1 1/4 miles of highway, FINALLY getting to work 20 minutes late only to find the school COMPLETELY DESERTED because, as I would find out after getting back home and consulting the intarwebs, that today is a Staff Development Day for the school district*. 

MONDAY BLAAAARGH!

Meanwhile, this means that I STILL have not gotten paid by this district after nearly 6 weeks of work. Jack-in-the-Box Value Menu Chicken Sandwich**, here I come!

In other news: Tony Bourdain is fiiinally doing a No Reservations episode about my Motherland! I can't wait to see it!

* Which, in retrospect, is just a teeeensy bit better than my first paranoid thought, which is that I had somehow completely screwed up on the whole Daylight Saving Time.....? thing seeing as how my cellphone really really wanted to push the time back one hour yesterday morning when it wasn't supposed to. But I didn't. Because CNN told me not to.

 

** Actually quite delicious, as far as meat-product sandwiches that cost $1 go.

The very definition of Blurgh.

Someone please tell me what the point of going to the grocery store in order to make delicious turkey sandwiches for dinner is when you're just going to arrive home to realize that you bought neither bread NOR turkey.

Bluuuuuurgh!

Meanwhile, yes, I know I have made a disappearing act yet again. Apologies, but I have been too busy teaching clarinet lessons out of my ass (not literally, of course) and NOT getting paid a dime for it yet because apparently, a certain school principal in a certain school district that a certain someone teaches clarinet lessons for, likes to leave town all of a sudden, leaving a gigantic pile of employee timesheets unsigned. Also: parents of high school kids are really.bad. at remembering to pay their kids' clarinet teachers. 

One last thing: I have to say that I am one of the few that held a slight glimmer of hope that this third season of Heroes would be a triumphant return to its glory years (otherwise known as "Season One") - and not the bizarre clusterf*ck of yore (otherwise known as "Season Two"). Sadly, my hopes have been dashed. It's a blasted mess. What the hell happened to this show??

A 12:30am post.

How do I know that I am a certified, card-carrying adult?

Because I just called the cops to complain about a loud party happening in our building.

As much as I'd like to think I'm cool and hip and blabbidy blah, they've f*ing spilled over from their balcony and out onto the pool and hot tub, which - goddamn it - I'd like to be able to use once in while without feeling like I'm about to be invaded by a bunch of rowdy twenty year old drunken morons. Also, I heard a bunch of them talking drunkenly slurring LOUDLY about how Barack Obama wants to take their guns away so they want McCain to win. Oh no they di-in't! 

RAGE.

Just call her "BB" for short.

Meet Beamer Boodles Buxtehude.

Praise Jeebus, she is not a yipper. For the first several days, she did yip for a bit at night when we kenneled her up for the night, but that seems to be falling by the wayside. However, she likes to chew on fingers, as well as eat her own poo and then lick your face directly afterwards, thereby causing Ysabel to erupt in a cruel cycle of constant gagging and dry-heaving.

I was very glad to make a purposeful visit to Chez Target this afternoon to buy a little baggy of finger-sized chew bones in order to dissuade BB from chewing on my beloved and much-needed fingers. Also purchased earlier this week? This.  Because that habit is f*ing disgusting, yo.*

At the suggestion of my younger brother, my next puppy purchase is going to have to be a miniature brown robe so as to turn BB into a baby Ewok for Halloween!!

Bela is slooowly but surely coping with the new addition better and better with each passing day. They are not Bosom Buddies quite yet, but at least at this juncture they can be in the same room for an extended period of time without barking and hissing at each other. I still have hopes that they will be BFFs before long.

*****

In other news: I teach lessons from 8am to 7pm STRAIGHT on Thursdays. Just think about that for a second. Thursdays are now officially my Just Take Deep Breaths And Think About How Glorious The Weekend Will Be And Try Not To Take Your Clarinet And Run Over It With Kablooie In the School Parking Lot Day. I have now reached my goal of having 40 students (criminy!) per week, with probably one more day of lessons to set up... So far I have only noticed one instance of me walking down the halls of a middle school and hearing a whispered "...she looks like a student..." behind me as I walk by a gaggle of 14 year olds who are all bigger than me. Le sigh.

* Also: How hilarious is that chihuahua on the box? Haw!

UPDATE.

Omg. You guys. I think we are getting a puppy.  *smacks forehead with palm*

A Shih Tzu, fer cryin' out loud...

Send all comments and virtual purple nurples to: schmooblebuns@gmail.com*

* not really

***

ETA: No! I will not go down without a fight! Operation If Schmooblebuns Refuses To Be Convinced That We Should Wait Before Getting A Puppy Then Damnit We Should At Least Get Something Less Annoying Than A F*ing Shih Tzu For Chrissake!! is now under way...

Calling all readers!  Help me find this dog:

1. Medium sized (apartment-approved maximum weight is 40 or 50)

2. Good with cats

3. Doesn't need a whole ton of exercise (although, I do need to raise my exercise regimen...)

4. Hypo-allergenic would be nice, but I typically become desensitized to new animals after several weeks of asthma-and-allergy-pill-popping 

5. Knows how to use a toilet, as well as flush afterwards, and can make daily trips to Star*ucks for me.

...Ok, that last one is just a pipe dream

***

Ugh, I keep changing my mind... Would a Shih Tzu really be all that bad?! Blergh.

O.M.G.

Schmooblebons has been all but begging on his hands and knees for me to agree to get a puppy for the last week. And I have been the party-pooping, nay-saying adult the whole time, talking about things like money and time and apartment-living and responsibility and BELA, etc etc etc. Despite every urge inside me to say OMG YES YES YES PUPPYPUPPYWUPPY I WOULD WUV HIM SO VEWY VEWY MUUUCH!! 

Someone in high heaven please tell me how and/or why I ended up being the responsible one in this relationship??

Also, someone please tell me how it is that Schmoobs also insists on wanting annoyingly small little yippy dogs with breed names like "Croodle" and "Yorkie Poo" or "Proodle Doodle Puff" (I made that last one up), when everybody knows that the only dogs that are capable of instantly penetrating the icy cold blackness of my heart are Beagles, Shepherds, Sheepdogs, Retrievers and anything that weighs more than me and that I could ride to school, were I still 12 years old. 

But, seriously, someone also needs to tell me why I shouldn't get in my car and go collect one OR ALL of these groin-grabbingly cute nuggets and bring them all home right this second! OUCH my heart just exploded!!

***

ETA: I heard this about 5 seconds before I passed out last night (from sleepiness or sheer shock, you decide): "Actually, you know what I really want? I think they're called...Goldendoodles."

I miss having friends.

In other news: Is it just me, or does Future Vice President of the United States Joe Biden sound just like Casey Casem? 

This is all my brain is capable of on a Saturday morning before I have gotten my morning Star*ucks Grand Soy Pumpkin Spice (yay!) latte.

Oh, and in other other news: Last night I learned that, at the ripe old age of twenty-eight, I can no longer tolerate drinking an entire Chili's El Presidente margarita order by myself without passing out on my living room floor wrapped in a comforter five minutes after arriving back home and attempting to watch Tivo-ed coverage of the Presidential debate and then waking up an hour later, guzzling roughly fifty gallons of water and then becoming unable to go back to sleep until a 3am shower and then watching the Food Network until 4:30 in the morning. Glargh.

ps. I was going to be all clever and paste a photo of a Chili's El Presidente margarita on here, except I was going to edit the picture so that "El Presidente" was crossed out and "Barack Obama" was typed on...except I can't f*ing figure out where the Mac equivalent of Microsoft Paint is on this blasted Macbook.  F*ing Macs. Harumph. A simple photo editing program! My kingdom for a simple photo editing program!!

"Alright kid, go play some long tones while I drink my coffee. GO!"

I start teaching tomorrow morning. At 7 in the am. (i.e. Roughly five hours before full functionality occurs). The end.

Ugh. Hello.

Yeah yeah yeah. I'm still here. 

1. I finally got a car. FINALLY. 2001 Isuzu Rodeo. Low miles. Bought with cash. No payments. He is no Lucky, but I suspect he will do the job. I've already started to refer to him (in my mind) as "Kablooie." Mainly because he is blue, and because I have been so conditioned by dear Lucky to feel as though the car I am driving may explode at any given moment. 

2. Did you know that it is scientifically proven that it takes everything TEN BILLION TIMES SLOWER to happen around here than anywhere else in the universe?! I am speaking specifically of the fact that I have been trying for the past week and a half to get our cable television situation properly installed and functional and I still find myself sitting on the couch at this moment waiting for the cable guy to show up YET AGAIN because, three f*ing appointments later, our DVR still isn't working. I'm looking at you, AT&T and Dish Network!!! We had an appointment scheduled yesterday to have the cable guy come and fix the blasted DVR, but as we had decided that it would be kosher to step out of the apartment to do a little thing like buy Kablooie, he apparently was unable to actually DO anything since he wasn't able to get inside the apartment despite the fact that we had officially given a Permission to Enter. Ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh. And then when I very angrily-but-bitterly-restrained-through-gritted-teeth talked to an AT&T representative on the phone later that day, I was also told that the repairman couldn't do anything because the only problem listed on the work order was that "the DVR is not working" which was not specific enough. Oh really? Ok, let me sum this up for you: It won't record. It won't rewind. It won't fast forward. It won't pause. NONE OF THE DVR FUNCTIONS ARE WORKING WHICH MEANS THAT, YES, AS A WHOLE, THE DVR IS NOT WORKING. IS THAT SPECIFIC ENOUGH FOR YOU?! Ugh.

3. In related news: the f*ing cable guy is supposed to show up, as with every single time, between the hours of 8am and 8pm. He had better err on the side of 8 in the f*ing am because I need to step the hell out and drive Kablooie to Star*ucks before I rupture a cornea out of sheer frustration. 

4. In other news: I think I start teaching on Wednesday! Wheeee! At 7am! GAAAH!

5. The time off from blogging has done nothing but enhance my pleasant and sunny disposition, don't you think?

Hieeee.

I haven't blogged in a while, have I? Yeah, sorry, I've been too busy loving life in northern California. Did you know that northern California has been scientifically proven to be the Number One Most Beautimous and Awesomest Place To Live In the Entire Universe*? And that driving down Highway 12 in late summer to early fall is the Number One Drive Most Likely to Make Ysabel Run Through the Vineyards Until She Gets To an Oak Tree Then Chains Herself to Said Tree So That She Can Never Leave**?

* In a 2008 study by Johns Hopkins University. Not really. 

** Ibid.

Day Three. CHECK!

(un)Lucky is such a good boy! He got us to Santa Rosa safe and sound with - apart from some scary, dark mountain passes on Day One - no problems whatsoever. In reward, we drove him through a giant Redwood tree and took a picture. Note to all of you who have not driven down the coast through Oregon and California: DO IT. 

For now, it is late, I am in sore need of a shower and a bed...and I have three days of reality television to catch up on. Spater!

Day Two. Check.

Am in a hotel room. In California. Right by the Pacific Ocean. When we wake up tomorrow morning and smell the saltwater and see the giant Redwood trees it will be AWESOME. 

Saw our former Music History professor this morning. It was everything I could have asked for. The tile design of his guest bathroom involves the Fibonacci series. He baked us coffee cake.

Day One. Check.

1. Found a room in the first hotel we tried in a small town just shy of where our former Music History professor now lives. It was the first hotel in the first city we hit after a couple hours of nerve-wracking mountain passes in which we were passed numerous times. In one instance we drove by a tow truck that we contemplated just tailing during the entire trip - you know, as a security blanket - until it swiftly passed us on an uphill grade and we just could not keep up without risking implosion. But Lucky is hanging in there like a good boy.

2. We nabbed the very last room in the hotel. As I stood at the counter of the hotel lobby literally one minute after I walked in, a guy came in asking for a room. Unfortunately, there were no more of course. I felt bad because he had been driving from Alaska and looked like death. I asked him if he drove through Seattle and he said yes. I was in a surprisingly chipper mood - perhaps due to the prospect of a hot shower and a real bed in my near future - and tried to make conversation...he was not very chipper. And then five minutes later another guy came in asking for a room. When the lady at the counter told him that I had just gotten the last room, I looked at him and smiled apologetically. He responded by saying, "Hm...well, you win this round." Hahaha. Awesome.

3. Thus far, Day One has been all about food. Specifically, starting with possibly my most successful Salty's Brunch Buffet visit to date (awesome!) - with friends Jessica, Jennifer, Vu and Jooolia, Star*ucks/Internet pit stop in Portland, and capped off with a pre-scary-mountain sushi pit stop for dinner. I have taken numerous picture already on day one. 99% of them involve food. 

4. More detailed Day One post later. Bed now. Goodnight.

The end is the beginning is the end is the beginning is...

Well folks. It's my last morning in Seattle. I am starting it off by waking up inadvertently too early before my early alarm has even gone off and being unable to go back to sleep because of all the things yet to do that are continually running through my head. Harumph. Not a good way to start off Road Trip Day number 1. I can already guarantee this first leg of the trip will involve numerous Star*ucks stops (but hopefully not as numerous public restroom usages! - eep.).

Anyway, so maybe one of these days I will write a post detailing all the lovely, wacky, hilarious, awesome, etc. events that have taken place the last couple of weeks as I went out and celebrated with my friends during the official Ysabel's Final (But Hopefully Not...?) Hurrah In Seattle Extra Long Extended Party (oy, I didn't even like to party much in college - despite what my family members think - what am I doing partying for two weeks straight now?!...blergh). 

But in the meantime - since my eyelids are getting heavy again, and there is now a small chance that I may fall back asleep, thereby almost guaranteeing that I will oversleep, wake up, scream, pee in my pants a little, and run around town like a crazed woman trying to get all the final errands done before capping off the Goodbye To Seattle celebrations the only way I know how: A Salty's brunch buffet - I will say this:

• Somehow, on Sunday when I am somewhere between southern Oregon and northern California, I am going to have to find a way to get to a Catholic church and go to confession because as I tried to mail my 3 remaining giant boxes of CDs, books, sheet music, other valid forms of media purses, shoes and clothes to Schmooblebunnies via Media Mail (Yeah, that's right government! Take that! ... Okokok, please don't arrest me! I am just working under a VERY tight budget! And I am a starving artist! GAAH!), I had this little exchange with the postman:

Me: Hi, I'd like to send these Media Mail please. 

*dramatically hauls one large box onto the counter with much strain even though it really only weighs like 15 pounds*

Postman: Media Mail? ...This box is awfully light don't you think?

Me: ...

Postman: ...

Me: Umm..."light"? Uhh, I DON'T THINK SO! 

*begins to recite the Rosary instinctively in penitence*

• Bossman and Greatest Print Assistant - Now New Buyer...Ah, and the Grasshopper Becomes the Master - Ever threw me a surprise going away party (yeesh, with the parties!) during my last day of work yesterday. It was very sweet and I got emotional (I blamed it on the estrogen. Out loud.) and very much against my entire plan of sneaking out of work early without having to say goodbye to anybody. Bah. Anyway, much of the conversation at the party was centered around a) Southern accents, and b) nude beaches. Also: I guess this confirms that Bossman never caught on to all the slacking off I did at work during these past two years. I mean, if he knew, would he have bought all that food and cake for the party? Probably not. Yes!!

• Day 2 of the Road Trip will start off with a visit to my former Music History professor/mentor. This is both fun, funny and spectacularly nerve-wracking. Namely, because this is the same man who, after three years without seeing each other after I graduated with my undergraduate degree and were reunited when we played in the same summer music festival, said to me when I saw him backstage during a rehearsal of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik: "Ysabel. So tell me what dance form this movement is in."  Zoiks! Once a musicology student, always a musicology student, I suppose.  In any case, as I emailed him a few nights ago to plan out schedules and such, I jokingly wrote at the end of my email: "ps. Should I be studying the Stolba between now and Sunday? Haha." Whereupon he responded only with these words: "Grout. Not Stolba." ACK!

• (un)Lucky's registration expires at the end of the month. As in, in 2 days. As in, the precise day that I cross the border from Oregon to California. And if all goes according to plan, I will sell him (Aah I can't even think about it, it's so SAAAAAD!) to a new owner (GAAAAAH!) in California in about one week (WAAAAH!!). So as I walked up to the counter yesterday to renew his registration and get new tabs, I had this little exchange with the licensing lady:

Ysabel: So I'm driving down to California and am going to sell this car in a week. Do you guys prorate these registrations by any chance?

Lady: *looks at me incredulously* .... No.

Ysabel: *sigh* Ok. Couldn't hurt to ask, I guess.

Well, I'm off. Wish Joools and I luck as we attempt to maneuver (un)Lucky over the mountains and through the woods to the beautiful land of northern California without any occurences of implosion, explosion or general all-around ceasing of function. Wheee!

The Olympics. They are over. My soul is dead.

1. 536 days until Vancouver. 

2. Bobby C said that the Chinese spent an estimated 40 billion dollars (What is that in Yuan? Like 80 zadzillion?) on the entire Beijing Olympics. So it should come to no surprise that, when it was time for the "official London segment" of the closing ceremonies, it all came out a little...quaint. Did it not?

3. For example: a red double decker bus? Is that really the best they could do? I mean, if Rogge had called me up last night and was all, "Ysabel! You gotta help me out, I forgot that we had to do a London presentation in tomorrow's closing ceremonies and I dropped the ball! Eeeep!" then that's what I would come up with.  ETA: Ok, the jets were pretty hip. 

4. Becks. ...oh, Becks. Never speak. Because you sound like a Cockney chipmunk. Just stand there and look inhumanly hottt and occasionally take your shirt off whilst kicking a soccer ball. But never speak. That is the proper way to represent the future host of the Summer Olympic Games.

5. The Bird's Nest: Masterpiece of modern architecture or Artfully designed giant toilet seat? 

6. Jackie Chan! Ha!

7. Oh, you Chinese officials. Sure, you cheat and cover up and make little girls lip synch but only if they are deemed cute enough...but, damn, you put on a good Olympics. You are forgiven.

Sometimes I do actually still act like a twenty-something.orI am hungover.

A co-worker organized an office going away get-together for me, which took place last night. The result? I woke up this morning in a flurry because I had a car appointment in twenty minutes and, when I got out of my ten-second shower and stood in front of the bathroom mirror, I realized I was still a wee bit boozy. Egads.  Anyway. Luckily, there was a Star*ucks directly across the street from the auto shop, so the 3 espresso shots I ingested this morning whilst waiting for (un)Lucky's checkup to be completed helped to awaken my senses. 

Unfortunate: drunken stomach + 3 shots of espresso = gastrointestinal nightmare

So I sit here back at home, surfing between Olympics goodness (only two days left! SAD.) and the Million Dollar Listing marathon on Bravo (how ridiculous are these pretentious idiots? answer: VERY ridiculous), guzzling multiple tall glasses of water and mentally willing myself to get off my butt and cook up a nice greasy eggs & sausage breakfast. I wish my colon a swift and easy recovery. 

ps. I should also add that, while the going away party goodness was last night, I still have one week of work left -- something that the vast majority of my co-workers were not aware of. So all of my workday yesterday was filled with this:

Co-worker: Ysabel! I'm so sorry I can't make it tonight, but I wanted to say goodbye!

Ysabel: Um, you know I'm still here next week, right?

Co-worker: Oh. ...Never mind.

So I imagine most of my Monday next week will be filled with this:

Ysabel: Good morning!

Co-worker: What are you doing here?

Ugh. Awkwaaaard.

Hello again.

I am starting to have thoughts. Mainly concerning my life path. Mainly the fact that now I am weighing two options regarding my foray back to the world of acamadaemia:

Option 1: Get a Ph.D. in Musicology.

• All of the post-graduate musicology programs that I have looked into (i.e. want to apply for) are a minimum of 5 years. At this rate, I'd be in my mid-30s before I even begin my professional career as a university music professor. Egads. 

Option: Get a DMA in Clarinet and some sort of minor/secondary graduate degree in Musicology.

• This way, I could theoretically be a "doctor" in 2 years (or at least be "All But Dissertation") and be on my way to having a professional career as a university music professor in 2+ years. 

Thoughts:

1. My professional goal is to be both a university professor and a clarinetist. In my fantasy world, I would teach at a university - both as an applied clarinet teacher and also as a music history teacher - and play in a symphony orchestra. Both of the options above are with that goal in mind, obviously one with my focus on Musicology and the other with my focus as a clarinetist. 

2. It's hard to say which of the two options I prefer since I clearly am torn between the two concentrations. I think the difficult thing for me right now is the thought of devoting another 5 years to schooling when I could, essentially, be viable for the same types of jobs in less time.

3. Obviously, if I go the Ph.D. route, I would be a very well-rounded candidate for the type of professorship I'm looking for, especially if I continue to keep my playing chops in shape and stay in touch with the performance world. If I go the DMA route, my resume would be extremely clarinet-heavy and would not be as well-rounded. And in that case, I would be more viable for clarinet teaching/performing jobs (at least on paper). However, after being out in the real world for a few years now, I've seen how difficult the life of a clarinet performer can be, and that prospect in itself is only slightly (yurgh) daunting. 

4. So maybe the Ph.D. route still makes the most sense? But FIVE YEARS?! If I were still in my early twenties, that prospect would actually be welcome. But as I approach 30, my perspective has changed a bit. I'm not sure I want to wait until I'm 35 to begin my career. Blargh.

Help? Thoughts? Opinions? Fart jokes?

***

ps. I am still also taking suggestions for my new leisurely sport/hobby (see post below). So far I have heard gymnastics, Pilates, tennis and badminton. 

1. Thank you everybody for not suggesting distance running (and by "distance" I mean, "any distance more than 2 blocks"). The mere thought of running more than one mile makes me vomit in my mouth. No, literally. Running a mile makes me vomit in my mouth. Sometimes out of my mouth. That's the worst.

2. Oh, I would love to do gymnastics again. Anyone see that 33-year old Russian-turned-German win the vault silver a couple of days ago? Zoiks! I'm 5 years younger than her, and my joints ache at the thought. But, oh, what fun! As long as there's no more vault involved. Because if I was doing face plants and total wipeouts on that thing when I was 12, Lord knows what would happen if I tried it now. I'll have to see if there are any Senior Citizen gymnastics classes in Texas. Hahaha.

3. Hm, tennis. Yes, the outfits are cute. But that would involve finding a tennis partner. Perhaps I can guilt Schmoobliebuns for dragging me to Texas enough to force him into becoming my weekend tennis buddy? Maybe after marching band season. But even then, doubtful. Although I could play on his ultra-competitive side. "Too scared of losing to play tennis with me, eh? Wow, I thought you liked sports. I guess you are getting too old to challenge me in tennis, old man .... or are you just chicken? BAWK BAWK BAWK!" 

4. Badminton. I think we played badminton in junior high PE. And if I recall correctly, I was not good. I did not enjoy team sports in PE. Unless it was racket ball (baseball with a tennis ball and racket instead of baseball and bat). Flag football was okay. Dodgeball was the DEVIL. Mainly, I just liked being the fastest sprinter in my PE class and the one who could do more push-ups, pull-ups and sit-ups than any of the girls (and most of the boys thankyouverymuch) in class. However, my mile time? I'd be lucky if I broke 12 minutes. And if I did, I would probably  commence with the vomiting (see above). 

5. Oh yeah, and Pilates. I've thought about it before. I would definitely have to join a gym and/or take a class. Because doing Pilates by myself with no motivation or anyone else pushing me will not happen, guaranteed. That was proven by my 30 minute attempt to do yoga 8 years ago. Does Pilates involve any of that weirdo deep-breathing? And long stretches of silence involving introspection and internal thought? Because that's not happening either. There is too much caffeine and LOST-theories running through my brain at any given moment for that to happen. But people who do Pilates do have fabulous bodies. Hm.

Anyway, more suggestions are welcome so I can make a well-informed decision!

Checking in...

Yesterday, I saw a pack of bison in the foothills of Mt. Rainier and one of the baby bison was drinking from the stream of piss it's mother/father/random giant adult bison was letting out. True story.

In other news: two weeks before I leave Seattle and OMG I HAVE A SH*T TON LEFT TO DO THE ONLY THING KEEPING ME FROM FREAKING OUT IS WATCHING THE OLYMPICS AAAAUGH!!! And entertaining my brothers who are in town visiting for a few days. Wheee!

Why am I at work instead of watching the Olympics?? Blergh.

Sorr for the lack of posting. Too much packing, working, watching Olympics to do. Just some quick notes - and, yes, they all have to do with the Olympics:

1. My thinking is that backstrokers are typically the most attractive of the Olympic swimmers in any given year. Krayzelburg! Peirsol! Lochte! Yes yes yes!

2. I was really rooting for Shawn Johnson to win last night's all-around final. Yeah, Nastia is beautiful and extremely talented, but I feel like I could fit Shawn into my pocket (and I am pocket-sized myself!) and just take her out occasionally to perform ridiculous feats of acrobatics for me and then put her back in my pocket.

3. All this Olympic physical excellence is making me feel especially flabby, un-toned and generally out-of-shape. I am thinking that it is time I take up a new sport/hobby as a part of Ysabel: The Next Chapter: Texas. I am taking suggestions as to what that new sport/hobby should be. Keep in mind that, while I used to be athletic (back in the Stone Ages), I have long abandoned any sense of being physically active since deserting the life of a tomboy/athlete and deciding to become an artiste instead and the only reason I have stayed so slim and svelte is because of my general state of consistent destitution. So, ideas? And don't say yoga. I tried it. It's boring.

I went to Texas and all I got was some painful, burning urination.

Too much information? Good, because I have five days of Olympics-viewing to catch up on. Whilst popping excessive amounts of cranberry supplements.

Bring on the BBQ!

1. Greetings from The Furthest South I've Ever Lived Except When I Was A Wee Little Lass Living In the Far East. Goddamn, it's hot here.

2. Schmoobliebuns, in a well-meaning money-saving gesture, has decided to not sign up for cable television or the intarwebs until I move here for realz next month. Hence, I am currently seeking refuge at a nearby Star*ucks (THANK GOD) savoring my first Internet in two whole days (i.e. forevarrr). Also, this means that I AM GOING TO MISS NOT ONLY THE OLYMPIC OPENING CEREMONIES FOR WHICH I HAVING BEEN LOOKING FORWARD TO FOR - OH, THE LAST TWO YEARS MINUS TWO WEEKS - BUT ALSO THE FIRST FOUR DAYS OF DELIRIOUSLY AWESOME OLYMPICS GOODNESS!!! Ugh times infinity plus one trillion!!! If I had known about this, I would have instructed my Tivo to take care of things back home. Blergh. However, my younger brother has informed me that Olympics coverage is supposed to be available online (or so he hears) so it had all better be available for me on the World Wide Web when I get back to Seattle. Or there will be hell to pay!

3. Ok, I guess that's all for now. Things here have been all in all pleasant so far. If you dis-count the blazing hellfire temperature and the lack of connection to the outside world. Oh, and the lack of ANYTHING on the horizon. That part's freaky, yo.

More later when I can connect to the precious Interwebs again.

I see youuuu! (Now with double TRIPLE the updates!)

It makes me laugh the number of people who come across my blog by Googling "clarinet playing squirrel." HA!

In other news: the final month of this move has turned me completely destitute. Especially the part where I had to pay more than $80 this morning to get a shuttle to and from the airport for my upcoming Barbecue Bonanza!! visit to Texas. This blows. Someone pay me to eat hotdogs and write lame blog posts already.

Question: What's worse than finding yourself at eleven o'clock at night still haven't had anything to eat for dinner and one second away from eating your face off and realizing you have nothing in the apartment to eat but 2 cans of tuna, 1 can of refried beans, 1 can of soup and half a bag of stale tortilla chips?

Answer: Realizing you have nothing in the apartment to eat but 2 cans of tuna, 1 can of refried beans, 1 can of soup and half a bag of stale tortilla chips ... AND YOUR CAN OPENER IS 2,000 MILES AWAY IN TEXAS.

The end.

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UPDATE: Greatest Print Assistant Ever is constantly worried that I never eat enough and will often push her healthy organic non-meat-oriented (i.e. non-delicious-oriented...haha...just kidding!) hippie food items on me at work. And today it happened to be one of these - made entirely of sesame seeds and honey. It was not entirely un-delicious. And something that is not deep-fried or containing high fructose corn syrup is admittedly a nice change for my overall health. I am, however, a little paranoid about THIS happening again.

***

UPDATE II: Someone needs to explain to me why Facebook Scramble won't let me score any points with "farter" or "chode" but insists that "porniest" is an actual word. Really. I mean, I dare you to use that in a sentence. Guh.

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UPDATE III: Just sent this text message to Schmoobliebunbuns, whose phone call I had missed two minutes earlier:

Sorry...I was in the other room cleaning it out and had just picked up what I thought was some dirt. Until I realized that what I had in my hand was a fossilized Bela TURD. So I was busy vomiting in my mouth when you called...

True story.

Anyone else notice how much I'm updating lately?*

I guess that's what happens when your Schmooblebunny is living 2,000 miles away and your only weekend companions (aside from too-hip-to-be-square, ponytail-wearing dirrrty bartenders) are a drooling cat, cable television and the interweb. 

In other news, I have been in contact with my clarinet teacher from my undergraduate years and - since the plan is for me to spend a bit of time back home in California (whee! wheeeee!!) in between my leaving Seattle and moving to Texas - I have made plans to meet up with her while I am there and (GIANT GULP) have her listen to me play. (In case you were startled, that sound you just heard was me simultaneously having an aneurysm and crapping in my pants.) It's a prospect that, clearly, is terrifying for me, but also exciting. And as if I even need to add: Highly. Motivational. I haven't had a proper lesson myself in over three years and, specifically, have not played the devil stick in front of her for going on over five years now (I think?). But, I feel, since I'm embarking on yet another new chapter in my life and one in which -I hope - I will be putting my focus back on living as a clarinetist and not just moonlighting as a clarinetist, it is time for me to put my big girl pants back on and start putting myself out there as a player again.

Anyway, after spending the last couple of days playing through all the music that I kept with me here, instead of boxing up and sending away to Barbecue Country, I have finally pinpointed the piece of music I want to focus on practicing and getting worked up to play for my former teacher. Something from this book, in case any clarinerds out there are curious. It is long, technical, fast and highly capable of kicking my ass. In other words, the perfect thing to usher me back into the performance world. Criminy. 

* By the way, the proper way to show your appreciation for all my posting is to leave comments, you ungrateful bums.

I thought this was the funniest thing ever.

In other news, I'm going to visit Schmooblebuns in (...gulp) Texas in a few days. My brain - being solely focused on the plentifullness (?) of barbecue ribs in that region, and not at all on the fact that I will be travelling for a minimum 8 hours with one connection with Bela in a kitty carrier - is quite looking forward to it.

Ugh, it's 10am on a Sunday morning and I haven't had any coffee yet. Blar.