Dear Peppridge Farm Truck

Could you please not park your truck with the GIGUNDO picture of an ooey, gooey delicious looking chocolate chip something-nut cookie outside my office every single morning?!?

coooookie!

Why I want to be CJ Cregg

I have a bit of an overzealous love of the now defunct show, The West Wing. Watching re-runs on dvd is perhaps my favorite rainy day/ Sunday/ evening activity and quotes from said show account for approximately 50% of all facebook status'. I may or may not have developed an inappropriate attachment to the characters given that they don't actually exist. But really people, how can you not love a show that lists "logistically impractical to enforce" next to "constitutionally illegal" as reasons why throwing out all US laws in favor of the 10 commandments is a bad idea!??

C.J. Cregg is the only female member of the faux Senior Staff in the faux President Jedidiah Bartlett's administration and I want to be her. She's tall and leggy, which as a short person I find to be worthy of envy all on it's own.

She's strong, smart and incredibly well spoken. I've always wanted to be able to not only ZING! but to ZING! intelligently. I've never been a ZING!-y debater, I guess I just don't have the gift of measured ZING! I've been told that the feeling of triumph and smugness following a truly inspired ZING! is less...say...satisfying than I might imagine. Regardless, CJ is definitely ZING!-y in a perfectly zippy yet not inappropriate or overly offensive way. If only Aaron Sorkin would script my life - then I could be well informed and ZING-y too.

She is professional and formidable by day but fabulous in an evening dress.

She gets super riled up over women's rights and smiles when called a "shizta feminista."

She loves Goldfish crackers.

She has emotions but she's not emotional.

She isn't a member of boy's club, but she's still the person they all want as a friend more than anyone else.

While I want to be tall, lanky and fabulous in evening gowns, I a recognize the futility. Witty, zingy, balanced, formidably smart yet incredibly endearing? I'm workin' on it.

Attack of the Freaky Flying Florida Cockroaches II

This is the first significant attack since the infamous Cockroach Shower Incident last year. I attribute this lull in hostilities to my own constant vigilance. There’s just no substitute for assiduously sweeping all shower and sleep areas for these nasty creatures before entering to prevent physical or psychological harm to oneself. Constant vigilance was working…clearly it wasn’t enough.

There I lay on the couch: cozy, full and drowsy with my feet propped on Wonderful Boyfriend’s lap.

Wonderful Boyfriend: are you falling asleep?

Me: mmmmmm

WB: Do you want to go to bed?

M: hrum...mmmmm

I was continuing to lounge when something, much like a piece of wadded up paper swiped the side of my head. In my comfort induced haze I wondered: “why would WB throw paper at me for not really answering a question he knows damn well I probably won’t answer? Where did he get the paper from? And man…that was a pretty impressive hook shot to hit me on my far ear…”

Cranky because my powers of deduction have been overpowered, I sat up, opened my eyes and immediately all warm fuzzies were gone: a giant, shiny, disease carrying cockroach is chilling out on my left boob/shoulder area.

Overwhelmed with disgust I let out the hybrid gasp-shriek that is reserved for finding strange people hiding closets and cockroach encounters. This noise, as usual, had it's desired effect of getting WB's attention as I clearly could not be expected to touch the foul thing that was currently besmirching the shoulder of my dress.

Seizing up the situation remarkably fast given that the warm, comfy, full fuzzies had descended upon him as well, WB threw all caution to the wind and snatched that bugger off my shirt, threw it on the floor and walloped it with a coffee table.

Since my gratitude was inherent in the cessation of screaming, I hightailed it to the shower to scrub my shoulder with carbolic soap and the hardest bristled brush I could find. As I went I heard the following transpire from behind me:

“What?!?!” (WOMP!!)

“JESUS!!!” (WOMP!!)

(Sound of the couch being moved) “ …what the hell?!??”

I don’t want to know.

I love...

The Snoopy Dance

Monday Observations

1.) Staring at some inspirational poster with kittens at 8 am while some quack in scrubs masquerading as a Gynecologic Oncologist takes a hole-punch to your cervix is a less than ideal way to begin a week.

2.) "It's only a smaaaaall pinch" line only works the first time before I know better than to doubt you... by the 9th time, I know you're lying.

3.) If the loudest part of your laugh is the inhale, please understand that I am most likely laughing AT YOU. It's not personal - I promise

4.) When your four year old son pipes up from the backseat on the way to pre-school and says "freak me more!" It's probably time to re-think the music you listen to with him in the car. :)

5.) In the event that you do not want to place your phone on mute because it gives you great personal satisfaction to know that we are all listening to your snarfly breathing, you MAY, just may, want to refrain from any of the following:
- saying "this is sooooooooooooooo boring!" (HILARIOUS!)
- farting

How to Evoke My Ire

Use the word "hefty" in reference to me

How to Annoy Me on a Friday Afternoon

Admit that you don't know how something works, then persist in interrupting me to explain how it works.

Least favorite lead-in's of the day:

1. Well, what happened was, back in 1961...

2. Well, put it like this....

3. At LSU we did it like this...

4. Well, when you're wife is in clinical trials too....

don't be hatin'

Don't be hatin' 'cause I got stuff to say

FTR

When your barely two year old child looks GIGANTIC next to you and you can barely pick them up, you need to gain some weight.

Women are supposed to be larger than the children they've recently birthed. It's just the way of the world.

Kanye West , please sit down

DoucheBag: (n.) - an individual who has an overinflated sense of self worth,
compounded by a low level of intelligence, behaving ridiculously
in front of colleagues with no sense of how moronic he appears.

I know that this anti-Kanye West sentiment has probably already been beaten to death in the 15 hours since his stunt on the MTV Video Music Awards last night, but I feel the need to comment and I need something more substantial than my Facebook status.

Kanye's 1st album was good. I bought it. I even used Through the Wire in a civil rights lesson plan. Then I bought his second album and liked that too. Gold Digger and The Kanye West Workout Plan made my running mixes.

Somewhere along here, he lost his goddamn mind and started equating himself to Jesus. Arrogance and ego aren't the most endearing traits...but posing on the cover of Rolling Stone wearing a crown of thorns? Seriously dude - even those of us who don't believe in Jesus are having a hard time making that stretch. He accused George Bush of hating all black people, which while entertaining, isn’t true. George Bush rejects all that is unfamiliar, this includes gays, liberals, Arabs and women, not just black people. After being labeled as a non-gangster rapper he publically talked smack about 50 Cent when their albums were released the same week. Dude, 50 Cent has bodyguards and wears a bulletproof vest – perhaps not the guy to get snotty with! He’s even managed to attract the ire Evel Knieval and when Knieval fights you, literally to his death you know you’re a complete turd muffin. He even usurped the title of King of Pop following Michael Jacksons death…now whether you are the messiah or not is between you and your God, but this I know for sure: the King of Pop you ain’t.

It seems that last night West recognized that challenging people with numerous bullet wounds wasn’t exactly intelligent, and went after fluffy, baby animal like teen pop star Taylor Swift instead. When he stormed the stage at the VMA’s I couldn’t help but think, “this seems eerily familiar.” It seemed familiar because it was familiar. Our dear friend Kanye threw a very similar tantrum at the 2006 MTV Europe Video Awards when he did not win Best Video, crashing the stage to argue why he should have won during the winner’s acceptance speech. Far less hyped then (it was just Europe after all) he still issued an apology then too. I haven’t heard it but I imagine it sounds as disingenuous and insincere as the one he issued via his blog last night. Maybe he thought that it would be okay this time since he was disrespecting a colleague (ahem…please see above definition of douche bag) in the un-solicited defense of another colleague rather than padding his own ego. He was wrong. It was equally as douche-arific, if not more so. At Katy Perry oh so aptly Tweeted, “it’s like you stepped on a kitten.”

Now Taylor Swift may be a little squeaky, she’s a bit wispy and plays up the innocent little girl card more than is my taste, and yeah, Beyonce’s video was better (and for it she won Best Music Video) but COME ON! She’s 17 – we’re all allowed to be slightly less than a force to be reckoned with then abruptly attacked on national TV when we are teenagers. So, bravo for Taylor for being a scared deer in headlights – your timidity came across and will go down as class. Bravo to Beyonce, for classing up the trashiest of trashy moments ever to be associated with you. Kanye, sit down and shut up.

Welcome to the Real World

A friend, probably more accurately described as a little brother asked me today "how's life in the 'real world.' " Given that he has just recently started his freshman year of college I assume that the 'real world' he refers to is the post-collegiate world. In Gainesville, Florida aka Title Town, USA aka the home of the Florida Gators there is no such thing as a post-collegiate world.

Like many current and former Gators, I was not satisfied with a mere four years of college life. 6 months as an Iowa Hawkeye plus 4 years as a Univ. of Florida undergrad wasn't even enough. I needed a whoooole 'nother year...so I went to graduate school. Finally, I was forced to stop being a student enter the so-called 'real world' of a full time job. The transition seemed rough at first. I thought getting to 930 AM class MWF was rough, but not when compared with getting to work at 730 AM MTWTF. Weekends took on a whole new meaning, no longer did they represent mad money making ability bartending or waiting tables, they were the time for sleep and relaxation...that is, until I realized that my 615 AM alarm clock had become internal and the concept of sleeping in had come to mean 730 AM.

While at the time it seemed to be a traumatic and drastic transition, I realized this morning that my 'real world' life is actually eerily similar to my 'college world' life, especially during football season. I actually dreaded football season in college because I worked in restaurants and boosters (specifically bull gators) are by definition assholes. They donate thousands (and when I say thousands, I mean thousands more than I lived (and currently live)) of dollars to the University of Florida and somehow that has convinced them that for them, a well done steak should take less time to cook. I doesn't. NOW, I lurve me some football season. I get to go to the football par-tays and 'watch' the game with a beer in hand on a comfy couch rather than catch snippets on the bar televisions in between tending to my tables. The liquor and beer I consume at said par-tays is of far better quality, not to mention legally consumed. I don't need to temper my Saturday night good time with thoughts of the homework that needs to be done the next day because there is no homework tomorrow. My days off are actually that, days OFF. It's an amazing concept that I don't fail to appreciate each weekend.

Today, in true college life fashion I had a drink in hand before noon (it had OJ in it and was consumed AFTER my coffee so I maintain it counts as breakfast,) I watched a butt ton of college football, I took a nap on the couch and rallied with a beer afterwards. Currently, the main topic of conversation is whether this season's Gator football team can rightfully be termed 'the best Gator football team ever or if making that statment is inherently asinine after only the second football game.

ahhhh...the 'real world' how do I love thee...

Top 7 Reasons I Miss Nurse Leslie

1. No coffee. She took the coffee pot home with her, ostensibly to 'clean' and has not brought it back yet.

2. It's raining AML patients

3. Learning curves become noticeably steeper when she's not around, thank Jeebus for Google.

4. My psychological birth control list has stagnated without the daily episodes of Cake vs. DMP

5. There's only silence when I talk to my computer

6. As a crew, we're the Mean Girls. When there's two us, I at least know I'll have company in hell. By myself, I'm just a bitch.

7. Nobody else snorts when they laugh...thus making me laugh even if I didn't get it or it wasn't funny.

More warm fuzzies:

I love the "Top Fans" application on Facebook.

Not only do I get friend points for Facebook stalking my friends but they also say nice things about me for it!

Today I was described as "an angel in disguise." (awww...warm fuzziest of fuzzies!)

What the 'disguise' is is anyones guess, though I'm thinking that the word 'asshole' might come to mind for a few.

I love...

I luuuurve me some Diet Coke and Fig Newtons

...enough to walk to the VA in the middle of a work day to get them.

...enough to blog about them

I love them because they alone can cure the unreasonably severe irritability that threatens functionality on a Friday afternoon. :)

WANT!!!! WANT!!! :)

Warm Fuzzies

Someone just described me as "sooooo nice" on Facebook today.

I can't help myself, I have warm fuzzies!

My favorite season!

I'm SO excited.

I was at the grocery store this afternoon picking up some staples (a peach, a plum, swiss cheese, hydroponic basil, fresh mozzarella and some cinnamon raisin english muffins) and bemoaning the end of berry season when I saw it. If I'd had a tail I would have chased it around in a circle for 3 minutes. I almost high tailed it over to the bulk candy aisle and made it rain gummy worms and sour gummy bears so that I could dance among them in a proxyisms of glee!

It's hard to believe that it's already here, or at least they want us to think that it's here, which honestly is more than enough for me. It may have been the ninety-eight degree weather and the one hundred and seven percent humidity that kept me from knowing this was coming. Maybe it's the semi-tropical rainy season that we are still experiencing every afternoon around four pm. Or maybe it's the fact that it was technically still birthday month that distracted me. Regardless, it snuck up on me, tiptoeing around on little stockinged feet with holes in the toes.

I wasn't paying attention, just meandering around and I saw them. Pumpkins. Pumpkins on magazine covers. Glorious golden pumpkins, squash and gourds with weird non-floral plant arrangements in dark crimson, orange and chocolate-y browns. Pumpkins posed oh so seductively next to roasted and glistening poultry. It's fall!!

Okay so maybe not REALLY fall, but if marketing and advertising says so, I accept! The season for Gator football (and by association par-tays!) Halloween, Thanksgiving, a string of near constant days off from work the mean I really only have to work 3 full weeks between October and January, Wes' birthday and oh so much more! I know that fall doesn't really come in Florida, it's still super hot and we can't build fires or sip hot beverages outside until January, but in the time honored tradition of teachers and researchers alike, I vow to fake it till I make it.

It's fall!