Vegas Weekend

It started out as a delightful way to celebrate my birthday, and now? It appears to be complete and utter madness, and I'm kind of loving it. Friends are inviting friends, and bloggers are inviting bloggers, and somehow, my birthday weekend is turning into the opportunity to meet about a hundred people who seem pretty awesome. And THAT is awesome. I'm looking forward to complete and utter debauchery... it's not really my style, but I'm turning 27, and I deserve a little lack of inhibition, yes? If YOU'D like to come, the more the merrier!

I am the Walrus. I am also delusional, and on cold medicine.

I'm sick for the first time in a very, very long time. Diligent sanitizing and desk-cleaning didn't manage to ward off whatever bug has invaded my head - and I do mean invaded. It controls my breath and pops my ears and manages every little system that allows me to function.

Whenever I get sick, it makes me feel the most homesick. I want to be back home, 14 years old, getting the day off of school and being brought toast with cream cheese and homemade jam by my mom, along with hot tea, in bed. There's a feeling of comfort and care that memory brings me that nothing else quite measures up to. And then dad gets home in the evening and kisses me on the forehead and asks how I'm feeling, and clucks sympathetically when I say "not good." The sympathetic clucks were the best.

Now being sick just means being... alone, which is so unfair. There should be a place where you can go see all of other sick people, and you get grouped into categories depending on what you have. And there should be board games, and movies, and giant pillows. Someone tucks you in when you decide to sleep. This would be ideal. Could someone please get that started? Thanks.

Also?

These are the things that made me happy about today.

Upcoming SNL episode:


Sesame Street doing Mad Men:


Upcoming Britpop duo, Mini Viva (can't get this shit out of my head)

Guh-ross.

In my rush to get to work today, I managed to double-spritz... with 2 different kinds of perfume. Body Shop's lemon spritz... and Dolce & Gabbana for Women. I smell like a 1920's perfume speakeasy. This, in addition to scented body lotion, means I spent the entire day picturing folks fainting in my wake... coming down with the vapors. Some probably did.

Then there was the decision to wear black tights with open-toed wedges. "Daring", I thought. "Fashion-forward." In those heels I was a solid 6'1, with my red pencil skirt and smart black cardigan.
2 hours later - I was desperately pilfering clear nail polish off of a kind coworker to stop the massive run that began... at the wedge's open toe.

I have very little luck with clothing. A vivid memory comes to mind - of a chunky, rotund little girl on one of her first days of kindergarten, leaning over to pick up her day's work while her mother and teacher gossiped behind her. My pants (my WHITE pants) split right open then and there. The adults busted up laughing.

Then there was the seam-splitting college incident... my Old Navy jeans gave out on the bike ride to class. So there I am desperately performing some sort of triage with a sweater, tying it around my waist and hoping to god just to make it through the day. Somehow, I did.

The year after that, I ripped the thigh of a striped pair of pants wide open on a staircase while drunkenly chatting with friends at my birthday party. Luckily I was in a bit of a goth mood, and extra-large pins to close the tear just looked... well, hot. Those were awesome pants.

But people wonder why I have appearance issues. In addition to clearly needing to lose a few pounds: I DESTROY CLOTHING WHILE IT IS STILL ON ME. My grooming habits occasionally unconsciously double-up because I can't keep my mind on anything, and some girl wore the same dress as me to prom. And looked better. Perhaps I should just print all of this out to hand straight to that therapist waiting patiently in my future, hmm?

TV

That episode of The Office is on where Jim and Pam fool Dwight into thinking he's being recruited by the CIA, so they lure him to the rooftop for a chopper pick-up, and then text him and convince him to throw away his cell phone. Then Michael accidentally leaks the half-nude picture of his secret girlfriend, Jan, from their vacation in Jamaica, to the entire
packaging section of the company. This shit is brilliant.

I don't know why I love this show so much, but I do. And it's not just the Jim and Pam thing, but believe me, that sure as hell helps. Jim Halpert is pretty much television hubby perfection.

I didn't always enjoy television this much. For a couple years of college, I paid little to no attention to it. And as a kid, my mom wouldn't even let us watch most stuff. The Simpsons? Nope. And our hours were limited, too.
I didn't care at all. What I wanted that time for was reading. I'd get the year's lists of required books and have them all under my belt by September. I had every book at the Chula Vista Public Library read by the time I was 15... and that even counts the dime novels I'd sneak off to read just to check out the sex scenes. What? I was curious. Sorry, mom.

My mother once walked into the bathroom to find me taking a shower with one arm sticking out of the water - reading a book. It's just how I rolled. I plotted and schemed, hiding flashlights under the bed so that once I was tucked in, I could get back to the business at hand. If there were no flashlights, I'd stand under the hallway light under I was too tired to be on my feet. I'd skip homework, ditch friends, and yea, I know - it makes me seem like a loser. Maybe I was. But it was the best thing ever.

And now, I read, but not enough, and I've definitely developed an obsession with certain TV shows. 30 Rock, No Reservations, TLC medical mini-documentaries, Law & Order, 60 Minutes. Well, 60 Minutes doesn't count because I want to work there. The rest are likely ridiculous and unneccesary. But then I listen to the reverence in people's voices when they discuss the classics; Seinfeld, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Arrested Development. Friends! Saved By the Bell! Old sitcoms, old dramas. That's art too, you know? It just takes a different form.

Maybe someday I'll get back to reading, but for now, I'm just gonna cuddle up with my honey and my dumbass cat, and watch Tool Academy and make fun of how stupid people can really be while mixing their cliches. I get a kick out of it - so there.