I've Got Chic in My Pants.

So this is super gross, and I wasn't going to post it ... but I can't help it anymore. I can't keep this to myself. And so, from a couple of weeks ago, I give unto you The Poop Story:

There is one thing standing between me and having children. Actually, that's a lie ... at this point, there are several things, including lack of a husband, lack of willingness to engage in The Nasty, and some other things, but let's ignore all that and pretend none of it exists.


I can't have children because I can't handle their poop.

This is not a joke. I babysat today and I realized I had to change the little girl's diaper. I thought I could get away with pretending that it happened just moments before her mom got home, but no success. Also, the stink of it was giving me a headache. So, of course, before even opening the diaper I start gagging/dry heaving. Heavily. Then I open it, see the horrific mess, and proceed to throw up. With my mouth shut. Naturally, I'm then grossed out both by what's in my mouth and what's in front of my face, but I just... well ... I swallowed it.

Then it came back up again. And I swallowed it again. This isn't a little trickle of vomit. My whole mouth was full of it. I'm not joking here.

Finally, that whole mouthful and then some more decide to come back up, and I couldn't handle it. So I went and paid homage to the porcelain god before returning and finishing the nasty poop problem.

You probably don't want to know any of this, but I'll just tack this on. I threw up in my mouth again after the whole ordeal was over, while I was chugging glasses of water down trying to get the flavor of vomit out of my mouth. It was disgusting. And you know how your tongue cramps up when you dry heave and when you throw up? Yeah. Still is a little crampy and painful and it's been like an hour and a half. I hate poop. So much.




So yeah ... that's my super disgusting story. Don't get me wrong, I love kids. But I'm waiting for someone to invent some kind of vacuum-bidet that you can strap on a baby's lower portion, turn on, and have it suck off the diaper and swish the baby's tush clean. After that comes into being, I might consider having children. I would also be willing to wait until I'm stunningly rich and can hire someone to do the dirty work for me. Blech.


Well, let's leave this stinky story on a good note, shall we?





Hi-larious.

Hola Sunday!

So technically it's Sunday now ... but I guess I don't count Sundays normally. On Sunday nights, I count midnight as the end of the day. On Saturday nights, it's more like Sunday starts when I wake up the next morning. It's after midnight, but as far as I'm concerned, it's still Saturday night. Am I disobeying the letter of the law? Or, rather, failing to interpret Sunday according to the letter of the law? Yeah, kind of. Am I failing to interpret Sunday according to the spirit of the law? Yeah, probably that too. Whatever.

Alright. Anyone out there who was informed of the awkward dream I had involving that one person where he and I were watching CNN whilst clothed merely in t-shirts and, in my case, panties, and, in his case, tighty-whities? Well, if not, there's the jist of it. Anyways, I had a dream about him AGAIN. And I was like, what that's weird. We went to Shakespeare's Pizza. I guess it wasn't too weird. I mean, at least we were both clothed normally. And I'm pretty sure that somewhere in that dream I was also involved with Cory Monteith. ...

Apparently my subconscious is really into show-y choirs. Regardless, it was really random because I only rarely think about either of those people anymore. More about Cory Monteith, since he's on TV and all. ... Weird. Just weird. And other weird coincidences, which I will explain to anyone willing to listen to me blabber.

And now  I will import my most recent Facebook status, just to make this complaint session a little quicker:

getting a cold in MAY (wtheck??) + phone on the verge of death + ON scheduling you on Sunday AGAIN (even though you did not include Sunday on your availability sheet) = weekend - happiness - relaxation ... but + hearing Hugh Jackman say your name in Wolverine ;)

Ahhh yes.  Okay. Here we go ... now it goes to bullet points.

• I have a cold. It's May. I didn't know that it was possible to get a cold in May. And yes, it sucks. It sucks hard core. I could go into all the multifarious symptoms that have been plaguing me all day, but I will spare you. 
• My phone developed narcolepsy today. Literally, it can't retain consciousness. Can I fully explain to you how much I do not want to buy another phone, even a refurbished one, for $130?? I'm going to have to go with NO. No, I can't. At least not using the internet. I'd have to make a video and scream and shout and throw things. I want to break things and cry and be pissed off at it for being such a piece of crap. Ugh. Makes me so mad. And it's giving me a headache. Oh wait, that's my sinus headache... but it's probably being amplified by my phone annoyances. 
• Once again, Old Navy scheduled me on Sunday. Now, I let it slide last week because we had a guest manager who made the schedule and he didn't look at anyone's availability. But this week I don't see how there's any excuse. I'm really cheesed. I have to miss third hour because I've got to have enough time to make the huge-o drive from the student ward and get changed before going to work. I've got to work up some nerve and stand up to these people ... They're getting to be freakin' annoying, honestly. 
• So basically my weekend has sucked. And tomorrow will probably suck because I've got to get up an hour earlier than I usually do so I can drive all the way to the student ward and then I have to leave there early to get to work on time and not leave right in the middle of somebody's lesson, and then I have to go to work (which I'm really starting to hate, by the way. Seriously ... it's not a fun place. People are always yelling at you and telling you to do things which are counterintuitive to your nature) and I have to be there until 7 p.m. and then I'll come home and want to curl up in a ball and die because I have to work 8 hours on Monday. The temptation to use strong expletives is great right now.  Just so you know, I'm really fired up about this. I mean gosh dangit Monday is Memorial Day and I'm going to be stuck there for 8 hours. EIGHT FREAKING HOURS. I'm probably going to miss the freaking ward picnic. Oddly enough, I'm so exhausted and frustrated and upset right now I could practically cry about that stupid picnic. WHY AM I SUCH AN EMOTIONAL WRECK?? I'm on hormone replacement therapy for three major hormones, so none of them can provide an explanation for this. Now that I think about that, I'm just glad those are stable because if they weren't, I'd probably already be crying and I'd do something to make it really dramatic and ultra-depressing. Maybe. It's hard to tell. 
• Anyways, the only real good thing about my day (besides a certain Fbook message which I will discuss with my dearest lovely meilleures amies at a later date) was that Wolverine's girlfriend was named Kayla. Also, she had awesome powers. But now I have a mental recording of Hugh Jackman saying my name... swoon. He's a hottie. But the Wolverine movie was such a waste of talent. Good heavens. ...
• SPOILER ALERT
• SPOILER ALERT
• SPOILER ALERT
• I mean really. You kill off Dominic Monaghan and give Ryan Reynolds a miniscule (albeit ridiculously awesome and attractive) part?? Those were two huge mistakes, that's for sure. And apparently Ryan Reynolds' character becomes Weapon XI or something, except that part (the Weapon XI part) got played by a different actor. Regardless, two of my favorite people's characters are dead. 
• END OF SPOILERS
• END OF SPOILERS
• END OF SPOILERS
• Why would I want to watch X-Men after that?? (Yes, I've seen it. Maybe not no.2 ... but certainly only once, and I didn't bother to remember it very well.) Granted, Hugh Jackman is very attractive. Very, very, very attractive ... but I wouldn't watch an entire totally action movie based on his facial-hair-y, man-tank-top-y, feral presence. If I'm going to sit through 50 fights, I want to get my time's worth of good looking men. Is that too much to ask?  Whatever. It was amusing. Not enough to make up for my ultimately crappy day, but at least it was something that didn't completely suck.

Well, that's about it. It's approaching 1:30, so even though I had a ton more on my mind, I'm too exhausted to write it. And beyond that I'm painfully ill. Maybe it will be a blessing and will get me out of work early tomorrow or something. Please. For the love of Pete. I don't want to gooooooooooo ............. (<--read that in your best "Dramatic Reading of a Real Break-up Letter" voice)

Good night. Or, rather, good morning. Happy Saturday Night ... er... Sunday. Whatever. Your call. 

Shotgun

Today I shot a double-barrelled shotgun. It was quite enjoyable, though the kick on it was kind of uncomfortable. I was so out of my element ... and that's not normal. I'm usually pretty good at adapting, ya know, coming from a military family and all. But seriously. Guns? Not really my thing. I suppose it was interesting. Of course, it really was interesting. Granted, I was having a horrible allergy flare up out there in the boonies with all the wild plants and animals. Speaking of wild animals, a vulture swooped down in front of the car on the way to the shooting range. Scared the living daylights out of me. It was huge and black and hideous (say that with an Esqueleto/Steven accent. What is that guy's name anyhow? Sometimes he's Steven, sometimes he's Esqueleto ... So confusing!). Well anyways it was a good time.

Nothing else really exciting happened today. Old Navy got a shipment of 4,000 flip flops. I got like 5 hours of sleep last night. I have looked like an albino rat or something since about 5:30 this evening because my allergies have been flaring up and making my eyes be bloodshot. Meanwhile I'm about the same color as white flour ...

The sad thing is that I'd rather compare myself to an albino rat than a bloodthirsty vampire. And just in case you were wondering, I stand by that decision without a doubt. I think I'd rather BE an albino rat ...

Anyways, like I said, huge allergy flare up. I've got a horrific sinus headache. The only problem I'm having is do I take Benadryl (which really should be my nickname or something because that stuff knocks me out cold and it's really a wonderful thing and I'm kind of in love with its peppy pink color. Also the very intense sleeping that happens when I'm under the influence)? Or do I suffer in silence in order to read and write and possibly watch a movie? Because I really cannot do both. I mean, I do so very much want to do both ... and if I could somehow find a non-drowsy anti-histimine in the medicine cabinet, I would totally take it. Even if it's children's meds. But the odds of finding anything in the meds cabinet is tragically low. I am quite certain I'm likely to bleed to death before I find a band-aid in there. Ever.

In Review

So I thought I'd keep up with these book review-y things ... not so much. I've finished Far From the Madding Crowd, and it was awesome. I kept reading, and it was weird because I totally remembered stuff because apparently I've seen the movie. I say apparently because as I kept on reading, I would remember stuff, but I didn't remember it well enough to remember the ending, which is kind of ridiculously awesome. I was very happy with it. After watching Return of the Native and reading Tess, I wasn't sure Thomas Hardy could write a happy ending. Oh, how wrong I was! How wonderfully, happily, entertainingly wrong! I think it's safe to say that a re-watching of that is going to be happening in the very near future! :)

Now onto Beginner's Greek. I do realize that I've not finished it yet, but I feel pretty qualified to make a call on this book. And that call is this: SO DISAPPOINTING. Okay so I was all psyched about the "Jane Austen fans will feel right at home." Lies. There's so much adultery alluded to in that book ... I mean, it's not enough for any guy to have just one mistress. Every guy who has a mistress has like 5 mistresses. And there are multiple guys who have many mistresses. And the girls NEVER find out about them. At least, so far they don't. I was thinking it was going to be all clean and stuff, ALSO wrong. People are always getting suggestive with each other and there are a couple of f-bombs towards the end. Apparently we don't have many words that make adequate substitutes in this grimy little culture we have.

I guess my main problem is that this book was really depressing. (Now I sound like Holden Caulfield. Isn't that just gorgeous? Blech.) I realize it's fiction. Very very fictive. But honestly I don't see how people can really relate to a story like this unless they are like the characters in the novel. And by "like the characters in the novel," I mean indiscriminate adulterers. So I guess what I'm saying is that the only way for this book to be successful is for the people reading it to be like the characters in the book, and the only way for them to be like the characters in the book is to be (or want to be) desultorily immoral and disgusting. And the book is successful. In fact, it's a national bestseller. What does that say about people in this country to you? I guess I'm just hypersensitive, having just gotten out of the bubble, but I find that very seriously depressing.

On the lighter side of life, I got a job at Old Navy last week. That's been fun ... I get to work on the truck team a lot, so I open up all of the boxes and distribute the goods throughout the store. Let me tell you, Old Navy needs to seriously reconsider the way that they distribute stuff. I opened one box and it was probably big enough to comfortably carry 15-20 shirts inside. Possibly even more. Anyways, this one box had one plastic bag inside of it with one shirt. There were TONS of boxes that could have carried that one shirt. Let's also point out how annoyed I am with the send only one of every size concept that they do with all of their really cute stuff. And the individually packaged shirt thing that happens way more than it should. All these things considered though, I'm going to have to say that I love, love, love, LOVE the employee discount. 50% off at Gap and Banana Republic? I vote yes. That's just super awesome. Guess who's going to have a ton of cute new clothes next fall? Yep. Me. That's right. :) Haha.

The "That Isn't Art" guy responded to this photo, saying,

"Here’s the thing about the Sun: This isn’t the year 1200 BC, you don’t have to 'believe in' it anymore. We’ve been sure for thousands of years that it does indeed exist. When it’s not 'shining' as you call it, that means the sun is merely being obscured by fog, clouds or some other atmospheric event. Or, in the case of the evening hours, it’s because the Earth has rotated such that your position on the planet is facing away from the Sun. It’s not complicated, and the Sun definitely doesn’t require belief. It exists."

So I know he's being snarky and all that. He's obviously got a lot of attitude. But I couldn't help thinking of his statement from a religious standpoint. Maybe I'm just in an overly reflective mood, since I just watched the latest episode of Flashforward. (The second to last one. I'm so depressed about that.) But really. I think it's cool. From a religious perspective, that is earth-shaking faith. I love it. :)

A Week, in Summary

So it's been like a week since I last blogged ... woohoo. Nothing too exciting has happened except that I GOT A JOB. Yes ma'am (or sir, as the unlikely case may be), starting next week I will be working at Old Navy. Which, coincidentally, is located right next to Barnes & Noble. I feel like it will be dangerous to walk out of ON with a paycheck and not be tempted to drop all my monies on gorgeous, new books. Not that I have any issues with used books. New books are just really pretty and crisp and there's no danger of finding someone else's food particles in them.

You know, I don't mind seeing food particles in my copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone with it's broken binding and occasionally crinkled, spotted, or dripped-on pages. They're all just tokens of each of the times I've read that stinkin' book (which is a lot of times, in case you haven't guessed). I've read it in bed, in the bathtub, with a sandwich, outside, in a car ... and even though I don't remember where all of those imperfections specifically came from (though of course I do remember some), it's all still from me. Me and old Harry, hanging out alllllll the time. Mmmm ... good memories.

Anyways, I feel pretty proud of myself. I've finished two books since being back—The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, and Tess of the d'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy. Here's a little bit on how I feel about these books. We might call them book reviews, I suppose.

The Catcher in the Rye
Mmmmk so this book is like 10+ swear words per page. Seriously. So that was really irritating. Basically the book's about this kid who has been in a million different private schools because he keeps getting kicked out of them because he refuses to apply himself. Being that I hate people who refuse to apply themselves, I found Holden Caulfield to be very annoying. That, in addition to his horrific mouth, meant I wasn't much of a fan of his.
So basically he is getting kicked out of this school and decides to just leave before the semester's out and spends most of the book wandering around New York City being depressed and calling things gorgeous and trying to decide whether he wants to call such-and-such girl and basically just being an idiot. He's SO annoying and the book was a pretty worthless read, if you ask me.
I don't really understand how anyone has found anything worth reading in that book, and it's my personal belief that J.D. Salinger was just sitting in his room one day thinking, "I bet I can write an American classic about a stupid kid, and everyone will read into it and think it's this great work, when really, it's just a mess of swear words, vulgarity, and things not befitting a respectable American teenager." The whole thing is classless.
I checked out Wikipedia to try to get some idea of what it is that makes this novel valuable in the eyes of psycho people (and by psycho I mean people who are into the whole rebellion thing, or who are just plain crazy enough to like this book), but I didn't find anything remotely interesting—at least on that subject. I did find something interesting on another subject, which I will bring up later in this post.
Anyways, what I'm saying is that if you're not into glorified rebellion, vulgarity, promiscuity, etc., The Catcher in the Rye is probably not going to interest you. If you ARE into glorified rebellion, vulgarity, promiscuity, etc., you should stop being a loser and a tactless burden to society.

And now, Tess of the d'Urbervilles
Okay. This book I LOVED. So good. You know a book is good when you still cry when the sad parts happen, even though you know they are coming because you've seen the movie. This book is so well written, it's disgusting. Thomas Hardy is amazing (which is why I'm currently reading Far From the Madding Crowd). It's SO romantic and so beautiful... goodness. I really just couldn't say enough good things about it, even though there are some seriously sad parts. Because I don't want to ruin it for you (because you have GOT to read it!), I will refrain from going into detail about the sad parts ... but it is so good. It's such a lush garden of raw, human emotion. (Sans vulgarity, promiscuity, teenage rebellion, etc.) And Tess is such like, a roll model to me with the way she deals with hardships. Like, some of the stuff that happens to her is so unfair, and then she deals with it and you're like, "Heck, I want to be this woman!" Granted, she's also very naive, and that's not always a helpful thing for her ... but she's still so admirable. This book is amazing. Definitely going on my list of favorites for LIFE.
On the topic of another character: I've basically come to the conclusion that I'll never be able to watch the Liam Neeson version of Les Miserables because the guy who plays Marius also happens to be the guy who plays Lord Coward on Sherlock Holmes ... and Alec d'Urberville in Tess. I probably could have blocked just Lord Coward from my mind, but Alec d'Urberville is the scum of the world and so creepy that I don't know if I could really watch it again without his creepier realm of acting infringing on my ability to perceive Marius as the pure, loving character that he is. So that's kind of a bummer. On the other hand, thinking of that actor while reading Tess made him super creepy. I mean, he was pretty creepy, but I think I might have forgotten how creepy he was because he was always being so pathetic in the way he spoke and stuff. Even though he wasn't actually being pathetic, but crafty and creepster-y. But anyways, that man shivers me timbers, and more or less creeps the living daylights out of me. Blehhhh. I shudder to think of him.



Okay. So now I get to tell you all about my wanderings in Barnes & Noble. LOVE that store. I already knew I was going to buy Far From the Madding Crowd, and even though these classic novels are SO good and so enlightening, they are a little heavy. Like, it takes a little more work to read them. I don't really get why, because they really shouldn't. They aren't difficult to read, everything they say makes sense, and there's really no apparent reason for why they are so intense ... they just are. So I decide I need to get another book. Something light, fluffy, happy, romantic, current. And I'm looking around and looking around and looking around, checking shelf after shelf, finding authors that I know and love, but not finding a plot summary that really fits what I'm looking for.

Let's go back to a minute ago when I was looking for stuff about The Catcher in the Rye. On Wikipedia, there's a section that states:

In 2009, Salinger successfully sued to stop the U.S. publication of a novel that presents Holden Caulfield as an old man. The novel's author, Fredrik Colting, commented, "call me an ignorant Swede, but the last thing I thought possible in the U.S. was that you banned books." The issue is complicated by the nature of Colting's book, 60 Years Later: Coming Through the Rye, which has been compared to fan fiction.Although commonly not authorized by writers, no legal action is usually taken against fan fiction since it is rarely published commercially and thus involves no profit. Colting, however, has published his book commercially. Unauthorized fan fiction on The Catcher in the Rye has existed on the Internet for years without any legal action taken by Salinger.

In case you didn't catch on, the bold part is the important part. "Fan fiction is rarely published commercially"?? Let me explain. There was a freaking Pride and Prejudice fan fiction novel on literally almost every shelf in the Fiction & Literature section of Barnes & Noble, I kid you not. It was disgusting. And, considering that, it's ridiculous to say that fan fiction is rarely published. Perhaps that is true, relative to how many people are actually writing fan fiction... but it's apparent that your potential to get published jumps dramatically if you're writing Pride and Prejudice fan fiction.

I don't mind people writing fan fiction and publishing it on fanfiction.net (or other websites ... are there other websites?). I really don't. I think it's a good way for people to practice plot, if that's the way they want to do it. I mean, it takes a lot of the work out of it, since you don't really have to establish the characters or anything. Theoretically, you could put all your focus onto developing plot, and it would really make that part easy I suppose. But here's the thing: it takes a lot of the work out of writing a story (or novel). Now, tell me, is it fair for someone to jack the characters off another person's story and write their own little plot, without having to develop these characters, and get paid for it??? NO. It's an affront to the whole concept of authorship, in my opinion. I mean, people out there work tirelessly trying to pull together a work that's all their own, and someone's getting published when they only did half the work. I am further disgusted that there's even a market for that. I mean, yes, Jane Austen is an amazing author. I love her to death. I have the complete set of her novels on my shelf, it's one of the few books I took with me to college, and I'm more or less obsessed with her stories. But not to the point that every book I read needs to have the same set of characters over and over again. That's ridiculous! There are so many other types of characters and people and settings and story lines to experience, and it is embarrassing to me that fellow human beings will continue to feed on just one story! It's like that freaky roommate my dad had in college that would only eat macaroni and cheese, captain crunch, and fruit cocktail. THERE'S SO MUCH MORE TO LIFE! People can be so disappointing sometimes.

That being said, I will tell you one of the things that really drew me to the book I did buy, Beginner's Greek. It had many of the criteria I was looking for, and some other great qualities too: it's pretty thick, it's all about romance, it claims to make anyone believe in true love (awww), it is currently a national bestseller, and there are four full pages of stellar reviews for it. Plus there wasn't anything that said, "This sensuous story of steamy romance and sexual tension blah blah blah." You know there's gonna be dirty scenes in books like that. But there was nothing like that, which, while it does not guarantee a clean read at least indicates that it's not a huge part of the novel. But what really kind of hooked me was that one of the reviews, quoted on the cover, said "Jane Austen fans will feel right at home." Sigh. I will have to read it, of course, but if that's a valid claim, I feel like it would make a good transition novel for all those psychos that are obsessed with Pride and Prejudice fan fiction novels. We shall see. But I am really, really excited to read it. Hopefully it isn't disappointing, since I did buy it instead of renting it from the library. But whatever. I have a job now, so that makes it less of a splurge. Muahahaha.

Anyways, I've wasted enough time on the internet so far today, and I want to get back to reading Far From the Madding Crowd. Partly because I can't wait to start Beginner's Greek. :)

Showering

I've always struggled with taking short showers. Almost without exception, whilst lathering or rinsing my hair, I find myself daydreaming or spacing out or something. I'd say there's something in the water, but it happens everywhere I go, so I have no claim. Perhaps it's just the lull of routine, combined with the comfort of hot water that just puts me in a different place, pushes me out of the normal stream of consciousness.

Well, today I found the cure. I guarantee that nothing shortens shower time like realizing that you're quickly running out of hot water. This happened to me very (very very) recently, as I got in the shower and realized that, with eight people in the house, showering after all of them was not going to be pleasant. Although there was some warm water, I turned the dial far past the usual level that results in scalding temperatures, and found my shower getting not warmer, but progressively cooler. Panic immediately set in.

I have a pretty good system down. I shampoo twice, and condition once. After lathering up the first time, I give the shampoo a little time to sit on my hair while I shave my armpits. During the second shampooing's sit, I get on my loofa action. Finally, I condition, and while the conditioner is sitting, I shave my legs. Today, however, I was down to one shampoo, not letting the conditioner sit, shaving my armpits, and running a cursory handful of soap over my body, hoping that the water wouldn't suddenly turn ice cold while I was in there. I only barely made it.


In other news ... I think I'm going to try to write a novel this summer. Just for fun, of course. I'm not going to try to produce anything publishable, but I would like to produce something novel-length. I'm shooting for something between 50-60 thousand words. If nothing else, we can just call it practice for National Novel Writing Month in November when I actually will have a real deadline and real word count requirement. Gasp. I'm kind of excited about it. In a totally ''it's forbidden'' sort of way. Even though it's not forbidden. It's just so ... lame? Idk. The culture of NaNoWriMo participants (who call themselves "WriMos," a term which sounds strangely like rhinos) is not one that I'd normally choose to embrace. In fact, embrace is not exactly what I plan on doing. I'm hoping to be among the "WriMos," but not OF the "WriMos." Because writers are weird until they get published. That's just the way it is. Once you're getting money, you're a certified genius. Until then, you're a book worm and a hermit with a pen. Whatever. I scoff and scorn and gaze adoringly all at once. I guess I just have to accept it. I want to be a writer, and gosh dangit I'm going to be one. <-- Just saying that last sentence freaks me out. It's terrifying and thrilling, all at once.

Here's to trying not to fail at life while still pursuing your passions, and accepting the fact that you've chosen a profession that will inevitably mock your attempts at trying to generate income. Hooray. :P