Big Girl Underoos

For your Friday afternoon enjoyment.

Me (whining) - I don't want to go to work. Friendster Guy - You only had a 3 day week. Me - I know. But I still don't wanna go. FG - Uh huh. Me (still whining) - Can't I just quit and clean your apartment for a living? FG - No. Me - Why not? I don't eat a lot...Ok, yes. I do. Nevermind.

Welcome back, Sassy. Vacation was fun, but lo, Here is a migraine. Why is my office Rolling like the ocean waves? Damn hormonal surge. I want to vomit. Just let me lie under desk and sink into death. If I were a man - no pain, could pee standing up. Life would be so good.

The problem with going on vacation is that, at the end of it, you have to go back to work. Once you are there, you remember why you wanted to go on vacation in the first place. Why couldn't I be a trust fund kid? I'd be so good at it.

I have returned. I'm sadly just as pale as I was when I left (with the exception of a small piece of deep cleavage I didn't realize my bathing suit didn't cover which I missed while slathering on 30 proof sunscreen and is now nice and red and itchy.) I took an extra day off yesterday. I was only going to take half a day for travel purposes but when Friendster Guy told me it was the last day the particular skiway I frequent was going to be open I said screw it. I went from the Bahamas straight to Spring skiing. It was just me and 4 other people. That's right, ALL the skiers on the entire mountain could have sat on the same quad. In all honesty, it was probably the most relaxing day of the vacation. Now, I must return to my regularly scheduled programming (i.e. my employment as an office prisoner.) Sigh...

In case I don't get a chance to tell you this later, during my pre-vacation work frenzy, have a lovely weekend. I'll be in the Bahamas on a well-deserved* vacation. I'll be back next week. I'll have a frozen beverage in your honor. *If anyone ever tells you your vacation isn't well deserved, kick 'em in the nads.

I'm fairly certain that there is a rip in the time-space continuum in the room where I take Spinning. While I was on the bike last night, pedaling away, the one minute between 6:10pm and 6:11pm lasted three hours. I'm sure you've experienced this phenomenon yourself in certain situations - the DMV, the grocery line you thought was moving fast but then slammed to a stand still as soon as you got in it, 4:25 on a Friday, etc. Although I didn't appreciate that three hour minute last night while I was sweating, huffing and puffing, and cursing the instructor, I do feel fitter and thinner today so I guess it was worth it.

Must Occupy Time Inventing Verifiable Amibitious Tasks I've dOne Nine-to-five If you can think of a better "O" let me know.

I've had this song in my head since last night. You may not know this about me (or you might if you actually know me) but if I could be on Broadway without having to go through the whole audition process I'd totally be a Broadway diva.

Here's a new reason to get out of bed in the morning: Dove's ProAge ad campaign. Maybe because I am without TV I'm a little behind in the times and you've already seen this, but damned if I wasn't smacked upside the head by this ad on the inside cover of Better Homes and Gardens this month. For a second, I was shocked, but not necessarily because she's "old" or "large," but because she's naked. In Better Homes and Gardens! When I got over my initial "what the?!," I absolutely fell in love. This woman is gorgeous and sexy and sassy and you just want to reach into the ad, give her a high five, and take her out to dinner. And she's got body fat! Allefreakingluiah! If we keep being exposed to these type of images, we might actually start considering this as the model body type (as opposed to the 13 year old anorexics we're forced to live up to. I'm sorry, but if I can make a ring around your clavicle with my fingers, y

My family is full of people who do not tell each other that they, or someone they know about who is also in the family, is very sick. This phenomenon occurs on both my father's and my mother's side of the family. For example, my grandmother was going in to the hospital for quadruple bypass surgery (in Florida) and didn't tell my mother (in Massachusetts), who happens to be her only child, until the day beforehand. My Mom was all, "WTF? I would have flown down and made sure everything was ok and stayed with you and stuff." I believe she did make it down but it was a flurry of activity instead of planned. My mom learned nothing from this experience. Just a couple weeks ago she didn't tell us, her children, that she was having heart palpatations and was wearing a monitor, until she no longer had the monitor. She lives alone. Mayhaps it would be a good idea to let someone know? On my father's side they are no better. Apparently, my grandfather almost died from

My thesis, at least the text, is done. Done! I still have to put the pictures in and make a list of illustrations, but other than that? Finito! Joy! Rapture! Off to edit pics since I'm snowed in anyway.

When I die I totally want to be turned into a piece of jewelry . Seriously. I already want to be cremated but I don't want some poor relative to have to clutter up their mantle with an urn, or have to spread me around. Being turned into a nice topaz or even my birthstone (peridot) seems like a pretty good idea. Of course, knowing my family, they'd probably pawn me.

Why does everyone on this website have their mouth open? It's like all the emotions Munch rejected before settling on The Scream.

I was inspired by a post over at Fried Dreams to "Netflix" a show on HBO called Cathouse . (Is Netflix a verb now? I'm going to use it that way even if it isn't.)Apparently Cathouse is both a documentary and now a series. I got the documentary. It is about the Moonlite Bunny Ranch in Nevada, a legal brothel. On the one hand I'm horrified. My inner feminist screams out, "What?! You rented a documentary on prostitution? And one that glorifies it no less. I am ashamed of you. Deeply ashamed. You are dead to me." On the other hand I'm fascinated. My inner, and much more quiet, sexuality whispers, "Psst. Look what those girls are doing. Look how comfortable they are with their sexuality. If they can do that sort of stuff with total strangers, maybe you can loosen up a little." I'm not turned on by this documentary. Ok, not much. I'm sorry, but anytime there are certain aural stimulations (pardon whatever puns you happen to find there) a

December Flower , Celebrate Woo Woo and I were having a little side conversation in the comments down a few posts regarding the female bag hoarding phenomenon. Where does it come from? Why does it happen? I find it odd, but so many women are drawn to handbags (not to mention shoes and accessories) that there has to be some sort of natural (aka biological) reason behind it, doesn't there? Or is there a time in every girl's life where we are societally indoctrinated into the handbag craving phenomenon? It's one hell of a craving for some people so there has to be something behind it. Millions of woman can't just randomly want purses, can they? Perhaps it has something to do with womanhood and power. I remember in my middle school, you didn't carry a purse until you needed to, i.e. you had to carry around feminine hygiene products, or you wanted people to think you needed to. I was of the don't ask/don't tell philosophy so I hid them in my back pack. Some girl

For once, I'm ahead of the curve. Who knew my career as a higher ed administrator was bright and new ? According to the article: "Higher education administration offers a unique mix of policy-making, financial and business strategy, and program development. In addition to the intellectual challenge of their careers, education administrators enjoy the satisfaction of working toward a good cause: improving the quality of college education." According to me: "Higher education administration offers a unique mix of red-tape, political game playing, over reaction about things that matter very little, and drudgery. In addition to the intellectual challenge of their careers, education administrators enjoy their vacations." Don't get me wrong, I actually do like my job. But being an "office prisoner*" is not exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up. Granted I still don't know what I want to be, but I'm getting better at recognizing what I don'

Thank goodness for Pat Benatar. She saved all the "dancers" from that Squiggy looking guy. You don't have to worry about them now. (See below).

They found happiness as girls who just want to have fun.

Over the last few years, I've become low maintenance. Very low. I haven't dyed my hair, worn make-up, waxed my eyebrows, or worn heels with any regularity since "The Great Dating Frenzy" of December 05- January 06 (see archives). I do use a blow dryer (no products though) and shave my legs now and then, but other than that, I haven't really taken part in the trappings of female beauty rituals. I was reminded of how low maintenance I am this weekend when my mom and I took a road trip and stayed with a family friend. She's my Mom's best friend and she has a daughter my age (the one who randomly decided I should be a bride's maid in her wedding even though we rarely keep in touch.) These woman have always had the latest in hair technology - spiral perms, frosting, you name it, they've had it and continue to have it. They spend an inordinate amount of time fluffing and coaxing and putting in place. My Mom's BFF even told a story of how she had to t

I got a dollar bill back as change today that had "Please track at www.wheresgeorge.com " written on it. So I went. I'm a sucker for doing things anonymous strangers tell me to do. On the website, you enter the bill's serial numbers and see where it's been. Sadly, my bill does not appear to have been anywhere besides the pizza place where got it. Mine was the first entry. But, I can go back and see where it's gone after me if someone actually chooses to go enter it. Since mine was the first entry, it makes me wonder about the person who wrote the message. I'm thinking they should have entered the bill on the website first and then spent it. But that's just me.

Last night I met with my thesis advisors. After some confusion on both our parts (mostly due to my disbelief), they both say that if I fix the last few things they have for me - a comma here, a rephrase there - I can print it out and have them sign it. That's right. It's essentially done. Finito. Kaput. I still need to insert a bunch of pictures, but besides a couple of hours being frustrated at Word for being a pain in the ass in that regard, I have very little left to do. Allefreakinluiah!!! So now I have a goal. That goal is to get all the images into my thesis, fix all the things that my advisors tell me, and have it printed and signed by next Thursday - the day before I leave on my 3 day cruise. Can you even imagine how relaxed I'll feel? I don't even think I can. But I have a feeling it's going to look something like this. Ahhhhhh.... Update: I knew it was too good to be true. My main advisor believes that a couple of the later chapters still need some work.

Go here: Tampontification Why? "You probably never thought of this, but women's shelters in the U.S. go through thousands of tampons and pads monthly. Assistance agencies generally help with expenses of "everyday" necessities such as toilet paper, diapers, and clothing, but one of the most BASIC needs is overlooked - feminine hygiene products. Seventh Generation , a green paper products and cleaning products company, has a do-good attitude and will donate a box of sanitary products to a women's shelter in your chosen state - just for clicking the link. Talk about easy (literally takes less than 1minute and they ask nothing of you)." X as Friend of the Family I've decided to try a new tactic. Since my family can't seem to make my X as X as I have, I've decided that I will now consider him not my X, but a friend of the family. That way, when I see him pop up on my siblings MySpace comments (or, god forbid, their Top 8), or at a family function (li

My stupid sister and my stupid brother are MySpace friends with my stupid X and his stupid girlfriend (the one who paid $9K to get his vasectomy reversed (sucker)). Isn't that, like, familial treason or something? I called my sister on it and she said, "What? Was I supposed to click "deny" when they contacted me?" Well, YES!

I don't get it. I don't get why this woman's 15 minutes of hate-filled fame are not up. It pains me to say that she's intelligent (and, to tell the truth, the jury's still out on that one) but I know she knows better, more useful (even for her evil purposes) words. I do too which is why this post is not just the words, "Fuck you Ann Coulter, and the broom you rode in on." (Although that does make me feel better.) And what's the point of calling John Edwards that? For one, he's not even gay so what's she trying to say? That he's...what? I seriously don't know. All it made me think is that John Edwards must be a heck of a nice guy and we'd be friends because the gay guys I know are some of the best people I know. Someone please pull her plug. Take the podium and the microphone away. Stop hiring this "conservative starlet" to be your mouth piece. You only prove yourself as ignorant as she is. And if she's a "starlet,

It wouldn't be a Monday morning after a (self-induced) long weekend if I wasn't panicking slightly about all the piles on my desk. I'm blogging now as a way to tell myself to take deep breaths and just take one thing at a time. Blogging as meditation, if you will. It only looks like chaos because I don't remember each pile's duty and status. Now I will go tackle one piece of paper at a time. One thing at a time. One thing at a time. One thing at a time. Inhale. Exhale. Ohmmmmmm.....

I'm learning to ski. I haven't really mentioned much about this over the last few weeks because, well, I don't know why. Usually, I've been so wiped out after a day, or half day, or one quarter day, or just thinking about, skiing, that I don't even want to talk about it. But today! Today, what I did on the mountain could potentially be construed as actual skiing. "Actual skiing" in this case meaning something other than flailing myself madly, and in terror, down a slope while repeating at a rapid pace, "shitshitshitshitshitshistshit...." I'm telling you, I was turning and stopping, and, wait for it, actually having a good time. I think it helped that I had a friend with me who was just learning to snowboard so we took it nice and slow (and I wasn't the worst one in our group of two.) Usually, Sunday is my day for rest and recuperation, both physical and mental, but I'm going back out tomorrow, that's how much fun I had. I may be p

Yesterday, I took a day off in order to work on my thesis. Generally, this would mean that I took a day off to sleep late, every so often attempt to work on my thesis, but really, I'd just watch my Netflix delivered Northern Exposure. However. Somehow, I managed to kick some major ass on my thesis. To the point where, if I had to turn it in for a class today as is, I'd be very comfortable doing so and I'd expect at least a B. That's right folks, all the pieces and parts are put together, including citations, the table of contents, and the abstract. The only things missing are the pictures but I've got the ones I have organized and ready to go. Of course, technically, I still have about 3 rounds of edits to go with my readers (if they aren't heavily sedated in Germany ) but at least I've got something I'm mostly happy with. AND I got to watch an episode of Northern Exposure and disk 1 of LOST season 1. It was a very good day. (Although watching LOST by yo

I emailed my third reader on my thesis to remind him that he is a reader (it's been awhile since he agreed to it) and to warn him that I'm sending him my thesis. I sent it to his college email address a few weeks ago but then found out he doesn't check it so I got another email address for him from my program's office. The reponse? "I am leaving on 1 April for two months in Berlin where I am going to be the subject of certain medical experiments which will make it impossible for me to read manuscripts. So if I can't do it before I go, it'll have to wait till about June 15 or so." Um. It needs to be signed off on and turned in to the thesis office by May 15th in order for me to graduate. So. Uh. Yeah. I'm not panicking. I can conceivably give him an unillustrated version of my thesis by next week. I will also include an official version of the approval form for him to sign. If he doesn't sign it, I will travel to Germany and do some other kinds

Guess what I did this morning? I paid off my car!!!! Whoo hoo! Yeeha! Hooray! I used my tax return (which, oddly, was $500 less than what I was expecting so I'm going to have to look into that) and some savings and voila, I own my car! Which pretty much means it's going to have some sort of catastrophic systems failure in the near future but, until then, whoo hoo! No more car payments. Five months early! Now I can cross that New Year's Resolution off my list ! Now, on to my #1 thing to "Git done" - my thesis!

Chocolate cake for breakfast. And, if I'd had the cahones to actually do it, I would have called in horny this morning. Not sick. Horny. One too many goodbye kisses this AM. But alas, I didn't. So, I sit here at work, eating my chocolate cake, thinking about what might have been. Which is a lot more interesting than thinking about the things I should be thinking about at work. Like databases. Ooh yeah, baby, databases. Nope, not quite the same.