Sweet Holy Moses.

Lost is the greatest show in the history of the universe.  I'd write more, but I'd really rather just shuffle off to the nearest laptop and get started on reading the Lost forums. Desmond and Penny!  Daniel Faraday! Some actual freaking allusions to real actual freaking answers! Yataaa!!

Really? Already?

1. Last month, I had uber-PMS for what seems like an eternity that made me curl up in the fetal position for three days, while I alternately demanded that Schmoobles leave my sight one minute and then rub my back the next minute. This time around, I got a mild backache in the morning and then the Monthly Confirmation That I Am Indeed Without Child later that afternoon. This thing that I call my body will never cease to confuse me.

2. When your city has been literally under a gray storm cloud for 6 months straight and you find yourself enjoying the sunshine for the first time since, what, September? October? and you feel compelled to go get yourself a latte and run some errands wearing a bright pink cardigan and matching headband over a high ponytail, you will be guaranteed at least a few smiles from random strangers in the grocery store.

3. Despite keeping on keeping on with my regular high-caffeine regimen, I have not had any movements in the booowel department for 2 days. This is both bothersome and confusing. That is all.

4. Twice now in the last week, I've attempted to make 2 different rice dishes. Both times I have overestimated the amount of water and/or underestimated the proper temperature to make a nice fluffy rice result and have ended up with the sticky, closer-to-porridge type of rice that, while tasty, was completely wrong for the type of dishes I was attempting to make. This makes me feel like an inferior brand Asian. Hmph.

5. My family is going on a week-long vacation to Hawaii next month. Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzaaah!! Things on my itinerary:

• Go on a Lost tour. I have researched online, and have found no such official activity. I may have to make one up for myself.
• Go snorkeling and see the pretty fishies.
• Go surfing and remain standing up on the board for longer than 10 seconds.
• Go surfing and remain uneaten by sharks.
• Eat obscene amounts of chocolate-covered macadamia nuts.
• Not think about my sh*tty job for one second.

6. Months ago I bought a fabulous shower head with which to replace the management-installed crappy shower head that came with our apartment that felt more like twenty midgets peeing on your head instead of the high-powered fire-nozzle of gloriousness that I prefer. Anyway, just a week ago I finally got around to asking our maintenance man to replace the shower heads. The new shower head, with all its high-pressured awesomeness is...awesome. What I failed to take into account, however, was the fact that it does not have an adjustable neck and is, unfortunately, permanently aimed at such an angle that it almost hits the wall directly across the shower head. This means that I now have to not only make sure that the shower curtain is pulled completely against the wall so that the water doesn't hit the wall and splatter out onto the bathroom floor, but I also have to learn how to shower while simultaneously hugging the far wall of the tub or else the water is too high to even reach my head. Urg. Oh well. The water pressure more than makes up for it. At least until I can get to Target and get a shower head with an adjustable neck.

7. I can't believe it's the end of the weekend already. Unacceptable. Someday, when I am Princess of the Universe, I will deem regular 4-day workweeks. That way, everyone can have the standard 2 days to do all the fun stuff they can't do when they're busy slaving away for The Man to earn their measly wages, and then also have one day to do nothing but lay down on the couch and watch television.

This post is about pooping.orBlogging it old school.

To clench or not to clench? That is the question. In reference to my sphincter. Because I've got about an hour left here in the hellhole office and my morning 16 ounce double soy Mythical Mocha (not Star*ucks, duh) has caused some *ahem* activity to commence in my lower intestinal area and I am now struggling with the choice between *ahem* letting it loose, so to speak, in one of our office communal bathrooms, or just holding tight (again, the sphincter) for the next 60 minutes until I can race home and bask in the private glory of my home bathroom before I pack up the devil stick and head to Wind Ensemble rehearsal. Hm. Quite a quandary...

***

UPDATE 2 MINUTES LATER: I can't take it. I'm going home now!

Lunar eclipse! Lunar eclipse! Lunar eclipse!

That is all.

T.G.I.F.F.

You can decide for yourself what that extra "F" is for.

Let me just say this: I just checked my bank balance and saw that the good ol' U.S. of A. (New and improved in 2009!!) has deposted my tax refund. Praise Jeebus Hallelujah!!! The last 2 minutes saw me very literally sitting at my work desk, staring at my computer screen with an idiotic smile on my face, saying repeatedly, "Oh. ...My. ...God. ...Oh. ...My. ...God." I guess this is what they mean about delayed gratification, right?

In other news: I have not fully ingested last night's episode of Lost. I refuse to accept the fact that Future Sayid is working in cahoots with Ben. The only good thing I can make of this is that Lost is such a freaking mind-trip of a show, that pretty much nothing ends up being what you thought it was initially and so there is still a glimmer of hope for me that what I saw at the end of last night's episode was just Sayid manipulating Ben in some way and that all will be hunky dory. *crosses fingers for next 3 years*

Anyway, I am counting down the minutes until the workday is officially over and I can go read the Lost forums for ten hours straight and then re-watch the latest episodes seventeen times over the course of the weekend. Taaa!

Happy Venereal Disease Valentine's Day

I just burned the ever-loving sh*t out of my mouth drinking my morning double Americano. Accompanied by some homemade cherry cheesecake courtesy of one of our accounting ladies upstairs. Soon to be followed by a handful of dark chocolate raspberry Hershey's kisses. And hopefully, but not bloody likely, followed by 30 minutes on the elliptical machine tonight. More to post later. Must go find some gauze with which to wrap the third-degree burnt slab of charred flesh formerly known as my tongue.

ps. Lost tonight!!! Wheeeeeee!!!!!!

***

UPDATE: Sayiiiiiiiiid!!! Noooooooooo!!! AAAAAAUUUUUGH!!!!

Hello World.

I'm going to start blogging regularly again eventually, okay? Just give me some space goddamnit. I need some time to breathe.

. . .

Okay, in reality, I've become completely obsessed with Lost. Completely and utterly. So much so that it occupies my thoughts and dreams and I spend all my free time lurking around on websites like this to read pages upon pages of nerdly forums and this to read pages upon pages of theories (but staying away from the spoilers...I'm a good girl). I honestly don't think the madness in my head will rest until all the questions have been answered. Unfortunately, the official date for that actually occurring is May 23, 2010. Which, looking ahead, happens to be just 2 days before my 30th birthday. Good lord, how freaky is that?! Let's change the subject quickly...

Hey, you know what's cool? Digging through your wallet to find some cash for a double Americano and finding a forgotten Target gift card from Christmas. And then calling the 800 number on the back to check if there is a balance on it and finding out that there's $15 left on there! Woo hoo! So I bought some gum. And a body spray with matching shower gel (half off!). And some make-up wedges. And some lame-o Valentines in the event that I decide to be a good spirited and jovial co-worker on Thursday, as opposed to the more commonly spotted tired and cranky version. We'll see.

Speaking of: I text messaged Schmooblebuns at work today to see if he wanted to accompany me to Staples and Target after our wind ensemble rehearsal tonight. He responded "yes" but followed it by a "but you totally ruined my plan." And then I responded "what?" And then he said "I'll tell you later." Turns out he was planning on sneaking out and buying my Valentine's Day present after rehearsal. AWWWWWWWWW.

I honestly didn't think he was planning to get anything. Especially seeing as how most "holidays" of this nature have historically involved the both of us insisting that it is silly and that we shouldn't really plan on doing anything because it is a stupid made-up corporate creation, but then the actual day arrives and I observe all these girls getting flowers and freaking chocolates and teddy bears and two of my favorite guyfriends send me the cutest heart-shaped love notes telling me that they love me just as much as they love cheese but yet I get nothing from my freaking boyfriend and hours later I am found sitting in my car in the auditorium parking lot listening to the slow movement of the Dvorak Cello Concerto (Berlin Philharmonic with Yo-Yo Ma...yowza!) crying pitifully and feeling tragically sorry for myself right before orchestra rehearsal. True story. Anyway, repeat the similar scenario involving my passive-aggressive moping and Schmoobins' lack of ability to understand how the female mind works ("Of course I don't want you to get me anything on Valentine's Day. ...and by 'I don't want you to get me anything' I, of course, mean 'You better goddamn get me something or I will make your life a living hell.") a few more times throughout the first couple years of our relationship and you can see how dysfunctional the two of us can truly be with this kind of stuff.

In any case, knowing that he was planning on getting me something means perhaps all those damned Hallmark commercials with the talking stuffed animals have seeped into his skull? Wait, does this mean I'm going to be getting a talking stuffed animal on Thursday? Hm. It's the thought that counts, right? Especially if the thought is shiny and sparkly. Or delicious.

***

UPDATE: Wait, does this mean I have to get him a gift before Thursday? Do girls traditionally buy gifts for their Schmoobles' on Valentine's Day? See how bad we are at this??

La la la I'm not listening la la la

There is no fear quite like the fear one feels when it's 3 hours after the airing of tonight's episode of Lost and it's still sitting unwatched on your Tivo and you haven't had a chance to watch it yet and an email from your cousin pops up on your Inbox and you get so far as to read "What does that mean, 'I have a man on their boat???'" and you know immediately she's talking about tonight's episode of Lost so all you can do is scream and then smash your laptop shut before you read anything else and you have to put an old episode of Seinfeld on your television that you Tivo-ed like 2 weeks ago so as to avoid accidentally finding something crucial out from some commercial or entertainment or news channel before Schmoobs finally finishes his goddamn work and you two can finally watch the episode.

*deep breaths*

In other news: This last week has proven to be completely exhausting and aggravating, and while I would love love love to spill it out onto this blog, I first have to brainstorm and figure out how to do just so without running the risk of getting fired from my job. Or I will have to see if Blogger will allow for password-protected posts. Until then...


UPDATE: OH MY GOD BEN HAS A MAN ON THEIR BOAT AND WHO THE HELL ARE THE PEOPLE FROM THE HELICOPTER AND WHY DO THEY WANT BEN AND NOW THE HAITIAN FROM 'HEROES' THE OCEANIC LAWYER FROM HURLEY'S FUTURE IS NOW BEHIND THE FAKE RESCUE MISSION AND SERIOUSLY WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH THE MAYBE-FAKE CORPSES IN THE MAYBE-FAKE PLANE IN THE OCEAN ANSWER MEEEEEE AAAAAUGH.

Just because I felt obligated to say hello.

Move along, nothing to see here. It's been a while since I posted anything, right? Yeah. Come back later when I'm more motivated. And when I'm done stewing the events of the season premiere (2 hours, my ass. Oh well.) of Lost over and over and over in my head trying to figure out some goddamn answers. Even though we all know there won't really be any for another three years. Sigh.