The greatest trip ever

Wow, I need to update. It's been a crazy busy month or so, and I have a much more elaborate post in the works, as soon as I decide to sit and go through the 450 photos I took as an amateur photographer in Las Vegas. (Note: Cool angles only work when you have the proper experience. Otherwise they just look like you're drunk.)

So, we went to Vegas. And it was awesome. So I'll write the full post, and then I'll edit it and enter the photos (which, admittedly are of an awesome quality when I get them all straightened, fill-light-ed, and enhanced. Many don't need this treatment, and that's good, because I took them in JPEG setting instead of RAW. Photo tip #1: Good editing software doesn't work on jpeg images. Photo tip #2: Manuals aren't bad things. Read them.)

I made Matt walk around the strip with me for a little bit after we checked in to the hotel. I didn't want to go straight to bed once we got the Vegas, even though it was like being awake until 2am our time. I'm always fascinated by Vegas, even the airport. So we walked across the street from our hotel and played with the camera. 

I took Matt through the Venetian, which woke him up a little bit since it's ALWAYS DAYTIME in there. 

Then we found a fancy-pants Walgreens and bought some booze and soda for our next day's events. 

Saturday: 

I guess it was around 9am Vegas time when I woke up, decided to get ready, and take on Vegas. 

We filled our soda bottles with our booze of choice, I put them in my purse, and we hit the strip. We met Matt's cousin, Chris, and he showed us around some of his favorite places there too. 

We spent most of Saturday drinking. It was awesome. We stopped in the Luxor for some more beverages, and I discovered that whipped cream vodka+OJ+Sprite = liquid dreamsicle. I chose to ignore the amount of sugar and calories in this beverage and focused instead on the fact that I hadn't eaten so it was basically the same. 

We strolled through NYNY briefly, where I got another sugar-infused-calorie-laden beverage and made it across the bridge to the other side of the street.

I'm terrified of escalators, and so Chris stopped on ours, which freaked me out more because I was drinking. But then we saw this guy:

And I soon forgot what I was previously afraid of.

We stopped at the Coca Cola Store for some good natured tourism, and I unashamedly flirted with a giant polar bear.

If you've been to Vegas, ever, you know that the people there do one of three things: 

1. Avoid the strip completely unless they have friends in town.

2. Are homeless and sit on the strip, smelling like urine, and begging for food and money. Sometimes they have witty signs. 

[Picture- divorce]

3. Dress up in what would be an unusual social behavior, which is rewarded with photo opportunities and tips in LV.

I decided to use my awesome new toy to document, secretly without the need of tipping, these people.

[Picture-Batman and spiderman]

[Picture- Homer]

[Picture-Mario]

[Picture-Barney]

And then I found THIS GUY:

[Picture-Birdman]

Who was just walking down the strip like he was the man, completely unaware that I was behind him snapping a million photos simply because there was a red macaw and a blue macaw on his shoulders. Then he stopped, and saw me, and I was embarrassed by my unabashed love of his birds and told him he was awesome. 

To which he responded: "Thanks, for $5 I'll let you take some pictures with them."

SOLD. 

So we gave him our camera and he gave us his birds and we took these pictures right there in the middle of the strip.

[Pictures-Birds]

And that made it the greatest day ever. 

We went back to the hotel, I changed, drank a little more, and then we were off to catch a bus to Fremont Street. We get to the street and while walking around in the dark, Chris points above our heads and goes "There's the zip line."

Matt: "Cool. I wanna do it."

Me: "I'll go with you!"

So we get weighed (grumble), sign our releases, and get in line. I gave Chris my purse since I didn't think I could zip line with it, and his buddy who had been with us all day took the camera, stating, "If it has video (which it does), I'll record it for you."

I think nothing of this. I think it'd be cool to see ourselves zip line. And obviously, my tiffany-blue purse looks awesome on Chris's shoulder. 

So we stand in line for almost an hour on the roof of some random building. I'm wearing my owl hat (one of three), and we are chatting with the people around us. When it's finally our turn, I don't get nervous until I'm strapped in, sitting on the launch box. I look to the guy in charge and say "Am I gonna die on this?" 

To which he replies: "Not today."

And we are off. I had been given all these rules before we left; don't leave your feet out, pay attention at the end, don't kick the guys at the end, etc. And I was very focused on this. Plus, my thing got all twisted and I was trying to make sure I didn't kick anyone while Matt is a few seconds behind me screaming my name. 

I get my head turned around enough to look at him, all smiles, and hear him yell "Will you marry me?"

My initial thought, was that he was joking. That he heard me ask if I was going to die, and was playing some 'OMG we're gonna die" joke on me. But I screamed "Yeah!!"  back at him. (I mean, I would marry him.)

So we get to the end of the rope a few seconds later (my timing may be way off on this, it was a lot of happenings), and I'm sort of piecing this all together. That he really did ask me that, and I really did say yes, and dude, I hope that wasn't a joke.... and then I get my harness of the line and turn around to get down when I see Chris. 

On the platform. 

On a knee, holding a box out in both hands in a presentation manner. 

And I believe the words that came out of my mouth were "Are you f***ing kidding me?!"

(Sorry, I swear. I know. I KNOW.)

I look over at Matt, who is on the platform too (I repeat my profane question. Mostly out of shock.), and I recall hearing him ask the attendants "Can you get me out of this thing?" and he gets off his box, grabs the ring from Chris, gets on one knee, and asks me again formally. To which I respond with zero profanity, but in the affirmative, and it's all happy ever after. We even have a video of it.

[Video]

And professional photos

[Pictures-zipline]

Which then was the greatest day ever. 

We spent two and a half more days in Vegas. We saw Mystere, we were hungover on Sunday, we saw Chris one more time, we lost (expensive) things and found them, we won money, and we had an amazing time together. I took a ton of more pictures, which I'll post some of on here and my facebook. As soon as I sit down to finish reviewing them.

Now we're planning a wedding. It's stressful (which I expected), and it's fun (which I hoped for), and it's exciting (which I knew it would be). I've cried, I've lost sleep, I've picked a dress completely different than what I wanted. I'm so incredibly lucky to have a family who will bend over backwards to ensure that Matt and I have the day of our dreams with as little stress as possible. It means the world to me. 

<3

Shoooooopping

There is a difference between shoooopping and shopping. The former activity is the kind that takes hours per store. The kind where you just walk in not knowing what you want, taking all the time in the world to find that one thing you think you are looking for. The latter is the kind where you know what you're getting, you go in, grab it, and get out.

I much prefer the latter. If I want to shooooop then I prefer to do it online. Which is why I usually spend my lunch breaks shopping for cute dresses online from ModCloth. I don't buy these dresses, I just add them to my Amazon wish list and carry on. I usually forget about them a little bit later while I keep finding more cute stuff I sort of just have to have. Plus, I loathe shopping for jeans (thus explaining why I have like, none), so shopping for dresses makes me happy.

I used to have this thing on the side of my blog entry layout where I could just type in the item I wanted on amazon, and then the blog would add a picture of it to the blog with a link to the product. It was great! And then blogger fucked up updated their layout, and even if I use the old interface I still can't use the damn Amazon thing. And I don't know how to get it back because blogger isn't exactly the most user-friendly interface to begin with. So..... I'm gonna have to do this all manually, which is gonna piss me off since I'm not the one who messed it up.

Anyways, so onto the dresses.

Number 1: Tea Leaves Dress

I find that bubble skirts like this make my giant legs look a little slimmer. Plus, it has an A-line shape, which is always good. Since it's a part of the current 25% off Cyber Monday (always sounds dirty to me) sale, it can be mine yours for only $48.99! You bought me a dress! You shouldn't have!

Number Dos: Thanks a Dot Dress

The website won't let me keep a picture of the dress, so lemme 'splain it to you. It's got cap sleeves, it's navy blue, and has light blue tiny polka dot accents on it. It's 100% cotton and buttons up the front (with cute polka dot ribbon embellishment) and has little polka dotted bows on it at the sleeves. Basically, it's a glorified shirt dress, but it doesn't look like you're going on a safari. It looks like you're going to be a flight attendant circa 1965. Or you could follow the link and see it for yourself, just in order to test my descriptive abilities. It's out of stock right now, so you can just purchase it for me at a later date. It's cool, I accept presents all year round. 

Dress Number THREE!!!!!  SoCal Bungalow Dress

Purple is one of my favorite colors. And I think you can never go wrong wearing a dark purple dress, because it has the slimming effects of black, but is way more fun than black. Plus, it can keep people guessing from far away... "Is it purple? Is it black?" This dress sort of works great for anything. Pair it with a cardigan and wear it to work, or wear it as is on date night. Or you could wear it to a wedding. Maybe a funeral? Probably not a job interview, though. Just saying. I'll make this promise now, that when I receive it at my apartment (shipped from you, of course) that I will wear it at work, on date night, and maybe to a wedding (assuming I go to another one after this year is over, that is). For $50, it basically pays for itself. 

Lucky Number Four: Midnight Bird Song Dress

This one is my FAVORITE. Let me repeat that. My favorite dress on this list. It might be because of my affinity for those of Class Aves. It might be because it's simply just so friggin' cute. I'm not totally sure, so I'll say it's a not-that-creepy combination of both. Lucky for you this dress is sold out, otherwise I'd demand that you all purchase me one immediately. (Combine your resources!!!) Simply because every grandma girl needs a sweater dress with retro birds sewn on to it. 

That's it for today, though. I did recently buy myself 4 new dresses, but none of them are those listed above. They're cute, though. Only one is from ModCloth, though, as I have a hard time justifying purchasing a $100 dress that probably had a production cost of $25. 

ModCloth does have some super cute NYE dresses, though. Which I should probably start thinking about.

And no, I didn't get paid by the company for any of this post. But I probably should. (Get on that, ModCloth!)

Tis the Season.... to be stabby

I generally do everything I can to avoid Black Friday shopping because people are crappy, and the traffic is crappy, and even though the deals are great, there is nothing that really makes me more stabby than standing in an hour long line to be told something along the lines of:

"We just sold out."
"I realize you purchased this online and selected store pickup, but we failed to do this for you. Whoops my bad. So, we're out. Anything else I can get you?"
"I'm sorry, I can't actually help you with this issue, but did you find anything you wanted while you were waiting upwards of an hour for my attention?"

Or the inevitable bitching that comes from other stabby people around me during the Christmas shopping season. You know the ones.... the ones that stand behind you in line and bitch about you and everyone else in a tone that you can hear them in, but they think you can't. (Read: hypocrisy. I, apparently, am the only person allowed to be stabby in retail stores this time of year.)

Since I try to avoid Black Friday shopping, it's only fitting that I've been out shopping every day this holiday weekend. True, I got good deals. And I managed to hit up stores that either are in a not-so-busy location, or early enough to beat people. Matt and I have a good amount of our Christmas shopping done, or we have an idea of what to get those that are left, with only a few stragglers. Which is nice, since there are, clearly, more important things for us to do this month.

Like, our anniversary!

December 4th is our special day, and so on this Friday we will head out to Las Vegas to celebrate in Sin City together. Since we "live in sin" and all, this is appropriate.

Matt has never been to Vegas, and I LOVE Vegas, so we are both very excited. Along with the fact that we get to spend 5 days alone together without the worry of work, school, or errands. That makes me happy. Sometimes it seems that both our lives get so busy and we don't ever get to see each other outside of the few hours that we are home before bedtime.

PS: It's gonna be freaking cold in Vegas while we are there.
PPS: It's also the Rock 'n Roll Marathon. Which means an extra 30,000 people on the strip. Yay?

We will be staying at Treasure Island, which I've never stayed at, and has been recently renovated (I think?). It's in the center of the strip, so that makes everything super convenient. Plus, it's a fun hotel. We both planned surprises for us while we are there. I've never been able to see the Sirens show outside the hotel, because it's always been canceled for wind when I'm there. Matt has never seen a Cirque du Soleil show, and I've only seen Zumanity (which I think means that basically, I've never seen a real CdS show either) so I bought us super-good seats for the Mystere show.

My sister and brother-in-law saw Mystere when in Vegas for their honeymoon a few weeks ago. My sister LOVED it. Since she's the ballerina, I'll take her word for it's goodness.

Matt had a surprise for about a month that I had no idea about, but last night he decided to tell me what it is, so that I can plan my outfit appropriately. The surprise? A hot air balloon ride at sunrise. I can't wait! I've always wanted to ride in a hot air balloon, and the surprise is a perfect one for our anniversary. I'm beyond excited!

I'm in a balloon! Everybody look at me I'm in a mother fucking BALLOON!!!!!!!

In other news, so that Matt and I can properly document our fabulous trip to Vegas together, we decided to buy ourselves our Christmas present early. Last week at Target we saw a Panasonic Lumix compact system camera on sale for $599, but it came with a FREE 45-200mm lens, which retails at $350. This was like, a $1000 system for $600. I stood there and lusted over it for a bit, but decided to not spend that money right then and there and went home.

Tuesday I found the same deal at Best Buy, with a memory card for free too at the same price and decided it was meant to be. So, we bought it for ourselves, and called it Christmas. It's simply beautiful, and our new camera makes me happy. I just wish I knew how to use it better. It's super sensitive to movement, and almost every picture I take comes out blurry. Clearly, I shake more than I thought I did. Makes you glad I'm not a surgeon after all, doesn't it?

Isn't she beautiful?

Isn't she lovely?

I seriously don't really know what the hell I'm doing when I use this camera, except that we now have lots of pictures of our Christmas tree and the cat. And that when I try to take long-distance shots of the Christmas lights on the houses beyond the canyon, they come out with neat little light effects. Which is my nice way of telling myself that I can't hold anything still for even 2 seconds. (2 seconds has never been so long!!) If you, dear reader, know your way around a DSLR or a Compact system camera, please feel free to leave a comment.... I can use all the help I can get!!

To wrap this up, Matt and I will be outta here Friday night until Tuesday night, and I couldn't be more excited. I can't wait to spend some quality fun time with my man, and couldn't think of a better way to celebrate us. <3

"Jennifer"

Every day, for as long as I can remember, I have gotten in a fight with someone called Jennifer.

It's not that she doesn't deserve it, though. Jennifer is a hateful bitch.

You may know her as someone else, but every girl has met her at one point in their lives or another.
Some women tell her she is ridiculous and to shut the fuck up. Those girls are the strong ones. Some befriend her for just a little bit, she has their best interest at heart. Jennifer just wants you to be the best you possible. Jennifer's best interest is in physicality; and some girls befriend her forever.


I am the latter of those girls. Except I would call Jennifer a frenemy at best. She's been around for over 10 years, and we have had some really great times together. For a while now, though, Jennifer hasn't been in control nearly as much as she would like to be. Which makes her even more bitchy than usual.

(I swear I'm not actually talking about myself here, but I suppose the presence of "Jennifer" does make me more bitchy.)

For a while, it was just me. And while I wasn't happy with that, I certainly kept myself busy. I did that by starting graduate school and working out a lot. I'm talking 1-2 hours every day. More on weekends. I remember having what I would call "Super Saturdays" which were, in reality just a 5 hour exercise purge. I'd hit up two different gyms, go to two different dance classes, run, do some abs and strength, and then hit poolside for the rest of the day. Or study in Starbucks, depending on the season.

It was amazing and horrible all at the same time.

Let me explain.... when I was neck-deep in it, I didn't realize it was maybe a tiny bit  ridiculous. I thought I was a rock star. I had all this energy (Where the hell did that go?) and time to burn, and best of all I was getting skinnier so everything was awesome. On weekdays, I had a job with minimal responsbility, grad school classes which I did homework at the last minute for, which left me ample time to work out at night. I was, in essence, in a very serious relationship with my gym.

I also ate 1000 calories a day, I wrote down every single thing I intook, and I portioned out foods (ahem, when I ate) like I was on rations during the Cold War. I never touched sugar, I only drank caffeine first thing in the morning, and I drank water like a fish. (Some of these things I still do.)

In the winter I lived on Earl Grey tea. With non-fat half & half, and two splenda's. That was all I needed, really. Add a protein shake for lunch, some baked chicken for dinner and I was good. I had almost no food in my apartment, not because I was broke, but because I didn't eat it. I had skim milk (to mix with protein), diet coke, half & half, chicken, and some green beans. I thought it was perfectly normal. Jennifer told me I was amazing. I was confident, pseudo-happy, and always getting thinner.

I have always struggled with my weight. For as long as I can remember. And I always remember there being a part of me which constantly told myself that I was any combination of the following:

Ugly
Fat
Worthless
Disgusting
Lazy
Inadequate
Unattractive
Huge
Giant-Sized
Squishy
Fluffy
Gross

However you want to stack them, I knew how to tell myself these things. And I always believed myself.

Then one day, Matt came along. He picked up on my slight body image issue eating disorder, and renamed that part of me "Jennifer". So that every time I have a moment, of sorts, he can tell me that Jennifer needs to leave his girlfriend the fuck alone, because he wants to enjoy some time with her. Or some variation of that.

With all the weddings I've been in this year, coupled with stress of the 8430238596 projects I've got going on, I've been in a serious body-funk.

I've taken more diet pills this year than I know how to count. And while I know that they basically don't do anything beneficial, they do curb my appetite to almost nothing. I've starved myself voluntarily, telling myself that the hunger pain is an achievement. I've exercised to the point of passing out. I've at some point been a member at three different gyms at one time. I've eschewed almost all of my other responsibilities so that I could work out. I've lost productivity time at work because all I can think about is getting to the gym, and I've developed elaborate schedules in order to maximize my workout time and time with Matt.

The thing that bothers me is that I'm in the happiest place in my life that I've ever been in. I have a man that I love more than anything, who loves me exactly as I am. I have a job that pays me well, which I really enjoy. I have amazing family and friends, and comparatively speaking, I'm doing pretty well for myself. (Read: I'm not unemployed, broke as shit, and standing on Wall Street in the freezing cold. I'm not the 1% by any means, but I'm working hard for what I've got.) And I still have many, many days in which I'm so incredibly unhappy, and ferociously uncomfortable in my own skin that I almost end up in an anxiety attack because of it. I've started to take the hate I have for my own body out on it at the gym.

I look at my friends on facebook and in real life who have real woman bodies that they may not love as much as I imagine they do, but they're happy in light of it. They don't do half the crap that I do to my body. They know that the love they receive from their loved ones is not rooted in physical appearance. (I know this, too, but Jennifer doesn't. And Jennifer..... as much as I hate it..... is a part of me. I've somehow learned, not from any one in particular, that my worthiness of being loved and successful is rooted in my appearance.) I envy these women; these friends of mine. I wish that I could have the physical confidence that they do. Instead of feeling like I should be wearing a paper bag on most days.

I suppose my point is that no matter how hard I've tried to rid myself of this disorder, it will always follow me around. I know this. I'll always have a part of Jennifer inside me. Ultimately, though, I wish that one day I will see myself as others who love me see me. I wish that I can exude the confidence that I want to, and that when someone tells me they think I'm beautiful..... I can feel it. 

Hallow's Eve Inspired Thoughts

I write my blog entries as email drafts when I have a random thought or bitchiness throughout the day. Sometimes. I don't always do this. But suffice it to say, the person who emails me the most is myself. 

Sometimes it's something slightly intelligent or witty. 

Sometimes it's inane banter with myself inside my brain.

But I digress..... 

Today is Halloween, which is also my favorite "holiday" of the year. It's not really a holiday, though, because we all still have to work. We just get to dress up like weirdos and go to work in strange garb. 

I'm an owl. Which was my costume last year, but I loved my homemade owl wings so much, and my owl hat(s) that I decided I would repeat the costume. 

Also because I have an unusual fascination with animals, particularly owls and all things Class Aves. I also have an unusual database of random scientific facts, and tend to blurt them out in general conversation. I think this is perfectly normal, as I think these things are cool and interesting. My peers tend to think I'm a dork. But you know, they love me for it. I embrace my dorkiness. I really do. 

(This past weekend? I not only signed up for my VERY OWN subscription to Science magazine, but I piled up all my science books onto the fireplace and took a facebook picture of them. I'm like a Sheldon in training. Minus the narcissistic 14-year old prodigy, PhD part.)

I'll leave you with a few random scientific facts for your mental rolodex:

1. Today the earth's population is projected to reach the 7 billion mark. If you were to count back 7 billion seconds ago (which would take a very long time, just do it mathematically) it would be the year 1789. (Note: I haven't verified this math. I heard it on the morning news.)

2. Those tiny feathers around an owls eyes? They are used to help them locate noises made by potential prey. By this process they can locate a mouse miles away simply by the noise it makes when it steps on a twig.  The owls can move these feathers in order to hear better. Each one. Individually. Google image it. That's a ton of feathers. I bet you can't even wiggle your ears. 

3. Dippin' Dots ice cream is made by suspending the ice cream mixture in a liquid nitrogen-type-situation, so that the ice cream freezes instantly into particulate spheres. As opposed to churning it. 

4. You can distinguish a crocodile from an alligator not simply by the triangular vs rounded snout, but by the positioning of their teeth. Crocodiles have a bottom tooth on each side that sticks out (this is why they have those indentions on the top part of their snout) while alligators keep all their teeth in their mouths. Alligators are WAY more well-mannered than crocs in this aspect. 

That's all I've got today. I've been trying to write a decent post for a week now, but due to the amount of stress I've been under it's all been pretty bitter and condescending. Which I'm already a bit good amount of natrually, but I prefer to call it sarcastic and cynical. So, since I like animals more than people, I wrote a post about animals. There you go. 

It happens to everyone, yes?

Did you ever do something you know you're smarter than to do, but which was innately human and yet embarrassing to take responsibility for? Have you ever been in a panic situation?

Well, I have. It happened to me.

Meet Rocky. He's a 6 year old Red Eared Slider. He lives with us. In that clear glass box.  This is relevant, I swear.

Matt and I have been fondly referring to the wildfire of last week as the "free excitement" that our apartment complex so graciously supplies to us. I mean, with our monthly rent we get all the following amenities:

Granite countertops
Full tile showers
A full garage
Excellent maintenance staff
An incredible view
Exercise room, leisure room, and pool
....and all the adrenaline-pumping excitement you can stand.

But I digress.

There was a lot more involved in the fire last week besides the awkward 911 call, evacuation procedures, and annoying calls with Allstate (that ended up not being needed). We also had a little..... carpet situation.

When the fire reached the transformers in our area and they exploded blew, leaving us without power, that was my first inkling there was something wrong outside. (I had been falling asleep for a nap on the couch, and thought I smelled our neighbors starting their barbeque early, but I was horribly mistaken wrong.)

This weekend I had to send an embarrassing maintenance request to our leasing office, which Matt states is due to an innately human reaction on my part, but I'm still horribly embarrassed and too scared to think of what the possible outcomes could have been were we not so lucky. Tomorrow the new carpet people are coming to repair our carpet and I am seriously considering leaving them the following note.

Dear Benchmark Carpet Repair,

Hi! We are so happy that you are here to repair our carpet, and regret that we will not be present to answer any questions you may have. If you do have any questions while you're here, please feel free to call me at XXX-XXX-XXXX, and I will be able to answer your questions.

But let me explain.

See that turtle? The one right there? He's been around since I was in college. Which means I've had him for 6 years. (Can you believe how old I'm getting? I wish to not discuss that further.) And you see that lamp right there on top of him? That's how this happened:

But don't be fooled into thinking that I'm some irresponsible pet owner who shouldn't be allowed to handle simple circuited heat lamps while unsupervised. As previously stated, I've had Rocky since I was 21 and I've never had a situation such as this. Not when I drank a whole bunch, not when I was sad, or even when I got more responsible a few years ago last year.

That lamp (which has since been replaced, but we're talking generalizations, here) never touches the floor. For a number of reasons:
1. I have a science degree and I understand that UV light bulbs generate heat (you know, like the sun does)
2. Small enclosed spaces + direct heat light = serious trouble. (Want proof? Check the floor.)
3. I'm terribly scared of fire. Terribly scared.
4. I don't enjoy getting in trouble or doing anything wrong. (Perfectionistic control freak? Me? Have you read any of this letter?)

So, approximately one week ago, there was a great big fire behind our apartment. And when the transformers blew, and the power was out, and I looked out the window to see 50 foot flames fire behind our fence, I maybe sort of panicked. Like the hysterical kind of panic.

Who knew I'd not be in control all the time.

After placing our very sweet kitty, who I'm sure you've met by now because he is only a little bit annoying, in his kennel, ending a very humorous call with 911, figuring out how to open the garage door without power proving that I'm not effectively trapped in this apartment, I then decided to grab the turtle for our evacuation. I picked up the lamp, which was off due to the power outage, placed it on the floor, put the turtle in an ice chest (because I couldn't find his traveling ball..... a whole other story), grabbed my purse and left. I didn't even put the grate back on top of the cage, because I thought I was about to die. I could smell smoke, which turned out to not be from a barbeque, and my eyes were burning, and I was scared. (I was also alone, but I feel bad guilt-tripping Matt for that because he was at work. So I won't mention it. Again.)

When we came home, almost immediately after the power came back on, and as soon as they'd let us back in, we found the lamp on the floor, and it had turned back on.

I am well aware of what could have happened to not only our apartment, but the entire building if we had decided to not come home that night. I lost lots of sleep over the "what ifs" of the situation, and the guilt and disappointment in myself because every firefighter in town spent 8 hours that day out here fighting fires and keeping all these homes from burning and I almost did that with a lamp.

It took me almost a week to muster the courage to notify our leasing office about my mistake, which was an embarrassing email as well.

Anyways, long story short, I am very sorry for burning a hole in our carpet. And yes, I know what could have happened. Yes, I know we're lucky that it wasn't worse. And we are very appreciative of you all repairing it. Hopefully you can make it a patch job instead of having to rip this whole section up, yes?

Thanks a bunch,

Me.

Panic situations

So.... there was a fire this labor day. Immediately behind our apartment. Yup our backyard caught fire.
And by "backyard", I mean "the giant park in the canyon we overlook".
I didn't know about this fire until it had reached our complex and the transformers behind our building exploded.
NOT LIKE IN THE MOVIES. Our transformers did NOT save the day.
So I called 911 once I looked outside and saw flames. Which, in hindsight seemed to be everywhere and very close. But now they seem a little farther away than originally thought.
Anyways, my 911 call was apparently hysterical. It went a little like this:
911 operator: Do you need fire, EMS, or police?
Me: fire! I need fire!
911 operator: let me connect you. One moment.
::recording:: all operators are currently busy. Do not hang up.
Me: you've got to be fucking kidding me. (I'm running around the apt trying to get the cat, the turtle, and figure out how to get my car out of the garage since the power is out.)
911 operator: I'm sorry ma'am. They'll be right with you.
Me: (clearly not realizing she could hear me.) Oh, um. Thanks. Whoops.
Dispatcher: how may I help you?
Me: hi, I live at ::here:: and the transformers behind our building just blew up and there is a fire now.
D: in the stone oak park area?
Me: yes. It's behind our apartment and the flames are right behind the fence.
D: ok ma'am, we already have responders in the area.
Me: ok well its a fire. And its behind my apartment. And I can't get out of the garage because the power is out and I need to get the cat and I can't see anything because there are no lights on and I'm effectively trapped in this apartment and there is a fire right outside.
D: ok ma'am. There should be a latch you pull to get the garage manually open.
Me: this one? ::yank:: now what? Nothing happened!
D: you should be able to just pull it open on your own.
Me: you're amazing. Thank you.
D: do you need anything else?
Me: no. I can go to my mom's house. She is nearby. Thank you very much.
Then I thought I Hung up the phone. I pushed end. You know what my phone does? I have to push end twice. To be sure I guess. I didn't know that. So the dispatcher heard the following:
Me: Come on, kitty! You wanna go to grandma's house? Come on, kitty! We gotta go now!
Then I heard the dispatcher still talking. So I put the phone to my ear and said, "um... do I need to do anything else?"
D: no ma'am. Do you still need us?
Me: nope, we are leaving now. Thanks.
And I really hung up the phone that time.

The Best Years of Our Lives

.... Which is what I was always told would be high school. That was false.

For a little while, the best years of my life were college.

Then 2011 happened, and I'm pretty sure that it's been the best year for almost every single person I know. (Myself included)
I could list them all, but that would be ridiculously boring for my dedicated and loyal readers, plus it's a bit "why everyone else is having a better year than you"-ish, don't you agree?

Just an overview, though....

I will have been a bridesmaid/maid of honor in 4 weddings by year end. As far as I can remember. I may have lost count, because sometimes my brain tells me 5. But I might be secretly living out my own wedding on occasion in my own little fantasy land, so I'm pretty sure it's 4 real weddings.

Miss Rachel got married in February of this year.
Miss Angelica got married in April.
My sister will say her nuptual vows in November.
Miss Meredith will vow matrimonial happiness and loyalty in December.

(Yup, it's 4. Which means I've officially caught wedding fever. Sorry. I'm human. With 2 X chromosomes. It happens.)

At my last count 750, a whole bunch of people I grew up with or have known since it was socially uncomfortable to be pregnant have had or are having babies.

(I don't have baby fever. I still see LOTS of dollar signs and poo when I hear the word "baby" or "pregnant". It's a panic attack inducing word.)

However, this post isn't about me.

Anymore.

I guess. ::sigh::

Miss Rachel got a blog when she popped had little Molly, so it's only fair that Miss Meredith gets a blog because she's getting married.

And moved far away from the great nation state of Texas.

In November, I was text messaging regularly with Meredith because I had done this really brave thing and gave online dating a shot. And I managed to meet a man I really liked, and clicked with right away, and of course I had to tell some all of my girls about him, because well, it was my turn to meet a man that was good, dammit.

Back to Meredith.

Anyways, because Meredith saw me being brave, she decided that if I could do it she can. Then she almost chickened out, but I told her not to, and so she joined the big internet dating world too.

Then she sent me some text messages about not wanting to go meet this guy (or two, I can't remember) she had been talking to, but I told her (nicely) to put her big girl panties on because she could be missing out on her soulmate if she bailed.

And I was right. Ha! HAHA! I wiiin. Wiiiiiiiinnnnnnniiiiiiing.

Long story short, Meredith had some really long day dates with Chris, and made him drive an hour to see her, because she's worth it (which I'm also going to claim credit of teaching her by way of "good dating rules"), and it kind of went like this:

Chris asks Meredith to be his girlfriend.
Meredith says no, citing some silly reason of it being too soon.
Meredith changes her mind roughly three days later (not typical at all......) and decides that what other people think doesn't matter and says yes.
Mushy Mushy Romance stuff
Someone says they love the other first.
The other reciprocates said feeling.
Chris gets into grad school on another planet in Michigan
Meredith panics calmly devises a solution.
Chris plans a solution all on his own.
Meredith picks up on said solution and starts pre-planning.

Chris proposes to Meredith in some sneaky yet horribly mushy and disgusting romantic way.
Meredith says yes.

Meredith makes phone calls.

Facebook statuses change.

The Earth celebrates and floods Meredith's facebook wall (and maybe Chris's, but I don't know) with congratulations and good tidings.

I buy another bridesmaid dress that I will be dying attening Cross Fit classes to look good in. (Cause pictures are forever, y'all.)

I receive a save the date in the mail (even though I have a mental rolodex, I still appreciate the memo. And have a slight tinge of misery that my mental rolodex will not last forever.)

I check out Meredith and Chris's wedding webpage, because I should  be doing research and scientific article reading for a book project, but a 25 page paper on algae eyespots seemed daunting after reading 3 other papers.

And if you wish to check out the happy couple's very cute and witty webpage, I've linked it above, but it can be found here:

Meredith and Chris, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G


Much love and congratulations to the both of you!

PS: And thank you, Meredith, for not making me buy a dress made out of satin that cost $200 which I will wear once and may or may not have a marsupial pouch in the front which as much as I love you I will torment you for the rest of our lives for ::coughAngelicacough::.

<3

I'm not your consultant

I'll admit it, I on occasion do some really stupid things. And I'm a smart girl. So, I'm able to overlook some things that very intelligent people do on account of all sorts of things like:

Stress
A general inability to understand simple concepts without making them hard
Sleep deprivation
Or just generally not wanting to do them

For example:

I am a fully grown, independent, American woman.

And I HATE getting my car maintenanced. (It's a word, now, y'all. Hush.) I hate taking it to get an oil change and tire rotation because it always happens when I'm actually out doing things that require me to look cute, so the chauvinistic Y chromosome behind the counter thinks that I'm just a pretty face (I say this with zero little narcissism) and that I don't know shit about cars besides "They go and they stop."

Which, in a sense, is true. I also know that they need gas in them to go and stop. See? Winning.

But my father did instill in me the importance of regular oil changes, tire rotations, and making sure the tire pressure is adequate. Because no one wants a blow out on the highway and I'm not nearly calm enough to handle that gracefully. So, I bite the bullet every 5,000 miles when my cute little Scion's light goes on and it tells me obnoxiously every day that Maintenance is Required.

Last time, this cost me $175. Because I needed a new tire and Firestone claims I have "low profile" tires, which translates to "expensive," and no, ma'am, we don't have any tires cheaper than $123. Then he called me again while at a baby shower to tell me that my alignment is off and "MUST be fixed today" and that this will cost another $180 for lifetime adjustments.

Well, Mr Firestone dipshit man, I just started a new job, and I haven't been paid in going on 3 weeks, plus I don't feel like charging $400 to my credit card today, so you can take your alignment and shove it up your happy manipulative ass.

Which actually sounded more like "I'll just take what we've previously discussed today. When can I pick it up?" (Matt got to listen to the explicit diatribe. Lucky man.)


There is a point to this blog post.


After quitting my last job (AKA "The most boring job ever with the coordinator from hell"), I thought I was done there. That I wouldn't have to go back and deal with them again. Once I was in new job, I actually realized how horribly unorganized they were, and I thank science every day that I got out when I did and got in to where I am. It really does make such a big difference when you are happy with your job. I come home happy every day. (Except Friday this week, because I sat on a highway entrance ramp for an hour. Traffic makes me exceptionally bitchy. EXCEPTIONALLY BITCHY.)

I was wrong about being done with old job, and now I'm apparently a free consultant. Which mostly pisses me off, because I only work for free at the zoo. And even then, I get cool perks. Like free shirts, the ability to cuddle the animals (after special training I sort of need to get 16.5 more hours to qualify for), free wine and food, and other cool shit. Docenting is awesome.

Anyways, I nicely agreed to attend a meeting with my old boss a week after I left so I could explain to her how I did things while I worked there. Since she was a scheduling nightmare and thinks I have nothing else to do (I'm *not* working another job 40+ hours a week, trying to workout more, doing research on 8,000 papers for a scientific book with an old professor, and then cooking dinner and keeping the apartment clean because Matt is just as busy as I am), I sent her a three page document outlining how I did all the major aspects of my job.

I left out the "Watching the live coverage of the Casey Anthony Trial on cnn.com continuously" part.

While she appreciated this document, she still wanted to meet with me, so I ended up having to go to downtown San Antonio at 5:30 in the afternoon on a weekday, and was thus, pissed. The meeting lasted 45 minutes, and then I had to rush to a dance class. Basically all I did there was fold the contracts open to the budget sheet and place them in a folder that they were already in.

This woman is a MEDICAL DOCTOR.

She writes prescriptions. Writes treatment plans. Is a Chief of Staff.

And she can't figure out contracts and budgets.

I, initially, attributed this to the whole "out of her realm" thing, and tried to be nice about it.

Then she called me yesterday. SATURDAY! While I'm vacuuming, doing laundry, and taking  pictures of our abode. Instead of asking me her questions at that time, she scheduled a phone call for today around 1. Seriously, woman. This is ridiculous.

She's confused about the bills. (Honestly. That was her reasoning.) And my initial thought was, "you pay them. They have a dollar amount on them, and you write a check, and mail it. They'll send you another one in 3 weeks. Sucks, doesn't it?"

I'm a sucker though, and my dad also instilled in me the "not burning bridges" thing, and in my industry once you're hated, you're hated forever. So I agreed.

But now I wish I hadn't.

Home and Heart

Let me first preface this post with the following disclaimer:

I never do large picture posts because I find them to be horribly annoying and frustrating in terms of formatting. I have to upload, then rotate, and edit, and caption, and organize 21 pictures for this post, and I've already so far put them all on the new post document page and then deleted them all because blogger is not nearly as formatting friendly as Word. (I mean, really, I have a 24" computer screen and I can make the internet window as large as I want, but the formatting frame remains a dinky 5x7"). If I wanted to format a three page document on a notecard, then I'd have done that with scissors. And paper. Not really expensive technology. So, I'm sorry if it's poorly organized and/or frustrating. 

AND NOW......

The actual post. 

In early July, Matt and I moved into this new apartment. Which we love. And since then, only a handful of the people who helped us move have actually seen it. So, since between the two of us we've been basically inundated with requests to post pictures of our new home on facebook, I decided I may as well just make a blog of it. Because facebook isn't any easier to utilize, really, and it annoys me as well. 

Plus, this also allows me to blog, which I realize I haven't done a lot of lately. So now I'm playing catch up. 

This is what you see when you walk in our front door.  Please ignore the paint container on the first shelf. Our mover-friends sort of nailed one of our corners with my couch. We need to fix that.

The bowl on shelf one. Matt found these really neat looking pieces, and I feel it's only fair to pay him credit for his find.

Shelf Number Dos. 

Shelf Number Three. Which mostly happened this way because both my bookshelves are full and Borders is closing. I have a problem, y'all.

I realize all these vase pictures are annoying. I'm annoyed by them. But consider this a virtual tour of our home, and be happy that I'll never be a real estate agent. This sits at the top of the stairs before they turn.

Here is the living room from the top of the stairs-ish. That's my awesome couch that my movers friends hate. 

It's a kitchen. We cook here. And wash dishes. But we LOVE our granite countertops, and the real tile on the floors. (And in our showers. Whatwhat?!) 

More of the kitchen. See my fancy knives? I'm standing between the pantry and fridge. Which, really, you don't need to see. It's boring. Much like the rest of this post probably is to you. 

Dining room which we see from the kitchen. Yes, there is a shoestring tied to that chair for kitty. And that is a lot of booze, but I assure you, we have more. We like to party. We like, we like to party. 

That's what I fondly refer to as "the nook" and which kitty fondly refers to as "personal playgound". Which leads Matt to fondly refer to kitty as "Shkitty," which is a combination of "shitty kitty." And it's trademarked. You can't steal it.

The black hole of productivity entertainment center. I didn't pick that song, the cable TV people did. I did dance around to it though. 'Cause I'm annoying fun. 

Our porch. And for those of you who asked me what a zero gravity chair was recently, this is them. They get all lean-back-y (also known as recline-y) and you don't touch the ground at all. Sometimes you fall asleep in them. 

Our view from the balcony. It's kind of awesome for sunsets. And hummingbirds. And I was hoping I could birdwatch from there, and not be the creepy lady with binoculars, but even I'm not confident enough to risk being seen doing that. 

The master bedroom. I realize there are no sheets on the bed, it's laundry day. And I was multitasking. 

The other side of the master. From the closet. 

Master bath. Yup, more granite. And full tile showers. Which really just means that we're going to have to buy a really expensive house in a few years, because I'm getting spoiled. 

More living room. This is basically what one of us runs into each morning while it's still dark. 

The stairs to the split level. The guest room/office is up here, but that's actually where all the mess is still, so I didn't photograph it. On the left is the guest bathroom cat's room. So that obviously doesn't get a photo (who wants to see bowls of food and water and a hidden litter box?) Also a linen closet on this floor. With another vacuum. We have 8000 3 vacuums.

My parents have had this bronze in their house forever, and I mentioned to my mom one day that if they ever wanted to put something else in it's place that we'd take it. My parents actually have something else to hang on the wall where this was, so we got it. If I remember the story correctly it was a wedding present to them from my uncle. So it's like, a family heirloom. Sort of. 

This concludes our tour. We hung this nice little piece of metal art on the blank wall space here so that all of our guests can see something pretty as they leave. There's the door. ;-)

 Well, so that was maybe easier than I originally thought, but I hate how it's one picture per line. What if I wanted to put them next to each other? I realize there is probably a way to do this, but I just don't have the time patience to deal with it right now.

So there's our new abode. We love it, and like having people over for dinners, and I totally want to play drinking games, so let us know.... we're fun people. <3

The 5th H

Back in the Baylor days, Rachel, Meredith, and Sarah had a little group of four friends all with the letter H in their names.

I know, by now you've realized that you can count and I can't.

I didn't know the original 4th H, but I recall her name being Ashley. So, I can count, just stop getting ahead of me while I tell this story. Okie dokie?

Well, Ashley was one night abducted by local Wacoan aliens, and taken to a trailer park to be held hostage for the rest of her long long life without the privilege of sorority letters, Common Grounds coffee, obnoxious church songs sung in Chapel, and pretentious daddy's girls. No one ever saw her again, and Meredith, Sarah, and Rachel were all very sad.

Until Meredith met me in one of her classes, and decided that I was infinitely more cool than this Ashley chick and that I'd make an awesome replacement H because really, their lives were incomplete without me. I was one of those dreaded greek system "independents" and didn't belong to a sorority, so meant that they could brainwash me on their own without the worry of that silly Panhellenic council over their heads. And I could do things like get drunk and wait for the pizza man man man man man to show up at the apartment, and answer annoying repeat anonymous callers in a spanish accent with a short amount of sentences revolving around the singular statement of "Si, soy Nina."

But I digress. Because those are inside stories between myself and the other H's that they will understand but none of my other millions five readers will understand.

Anyways, we all grew up. And it was awful and scary and fantastic and horrible all at the same time.

I did a bunch of things involving not going to medical school, working with rats in the name of SCIENCE, starting my career and going to grad school.

Meredith got a million degrees. And is still working on one. And she got engaged.

Sarah also got another degree and had a big grown up trip to another big city far far away.

Then Miss Rachel became a teacher and was the first to get married.

And pregnant.

Not that I ever particularly planned to do the spawning thing before the age of 30, but she did beat everyone else to it.

Today we welcome Miss Molly Mahan to the world! She'll be the 5th H to our happy little group, on account of her last name actually having an H, and her mom being awesome.

Congratulations to the Mahan family. I'm so very proud of Mrs Rachel for growing a beautiful baby girl, and I just know she's going to be one fantastic momma. I can't wait to meet little Molly.

And one day, I'll catch up to the rest of the H's in my group. Apparently all I've done is work. And go to the gym.

<3