Ho ho ho




My plans to one day dress up as Angel for Christmas will not be thwarted. Next year, people! Next year! And I will spend Christmas day alone in a bar, too, just as I've always threatened...



At least this year I didn't have a nervous breakdown in the Home Depot parking lot in Macon, Georgia.



Tomorrow I head for the beach.

And what the hell is up for New Year's Eve? Is anyone throwing a total throw-down party or what?? ###

In love again




It's true. I'm in love again. With my city. With Atlanta.




I could chalk it up to the gorgeous weather the past week (high of 70 almost everyday with blue, blue skies) or the fact that the semester just ended, or that I'm at a good "moving on" point from the divorce, or that I'm back on the dating market, or a million other things. In actuality, I think my reborn love begins where all those millions of reasons meet.



It feels great to love Atlanta again. I mean, where but this city could I have sat next to a former WWE Women's Champion at 1 in the morning while watching ridiculous puppet antics and having bras tossed at me? I mean, really. Can you think of another city where all of that is possible? I can't. And then later, at a house party at 3 am, watching drunk dipshits nearly blow their hands off with roman candles brought in from North Carolina, I had fabulous conversation about the history of this city, about the local NPR news announcer, about writing and promise and hope for the future. Where but here is that possible? I tell you, it feels good to be happy in the geography of where I am right now, right this instant. It feels good.

###

Japanese alcoholic beverage made from fermented rice



After a running thought that I couldn't let go on the proper way to spell 'saki', I looked it up and discovered that both 'sake' and 'saki' are correct. And, 'saki' is also a small arboreal monkey of tropical South America with long hair and bushy nonprehensile tail.

Now go forth with your newfound knowledge and wow your friends at trivia.

###

The latest in 'Is this really my life?' news




Yes! Finals are over! Relief and joy is all around. Mostly. But not all is rosy and wonderful in my life. Yes, it's true, the friend who talked me into plunking down money and joining her in the dark, polluted waters of internet dating has, a mere 2 weeks into this bullshit, found a man. So that whole, "It'll be way more fun if we're doing this together and can compare battle stories" rah-rahing has turned into me trying to call her to hang out and being told she's going to the strip club with her new boyfriend, proving once again that you can't trust straight women; they'll sell you out at the first sign of interest from a boy with a dog and Christmas lights in his front yard.



Ok, all bitterness aside, I'm really happy for her. Sorta.



Then there's my friend who I went bath fixture and paint sample shopping with earlier in the week. She and her man are slated to close on their fixer-upper on the 20th, and my eyes are so green with envy I can hardly see straight. Real estate, people. Real estate! She's managed, in the words of another friend, to "con" some man into buying real estate with her. So. Jealous.



The worst is that every middle-aged woman who hears I'm internet dating says, "Don't do that! I have just the son/nephew/grandson for you." I start asking questions, and inevitably what comes out is that he's a) unemployed or b) a waiter and c) he still lives at home. What does this say about me as a person, that everyone is trying to set me up with their loser sons, not the ones who are 2nd-year-law students or work in high finance? The middle-aged women's explanation? "He's creative, like you..."



Oh, I get it. 'Creative' means 'undateable'. Thanks.



My personal life aside, I think I did really well in my classes this fall, despite experiencing XTREME burnout, and work is wonderful, as always. Have I mentioned I LOVE my job? I am a valued, appreciated team mate, and I now even have my own business cards. Maybe I'll just become one of those stereotypical balls-busting career women, feeding off the weakness of others to further her own ambition. Then, while no man would want to date me, at least I'd be making enough money to buy all the real estate my little bitter heart could ever desire.



(Considers this...)

###

Almost done with Finals Week






Things I will not miss about college when I finally finish this stupid undergrad degree I was supposed to have finished three-and-a-half years ago:





--18-year-olds.


--Professors who became professors because they never wanted to grow up, and desperately want the 18-year-olds to think they're still cool, but really, the 18-year-olds only added them as a facebook friend because they were hoping it would help them get an A, and it totally did.


--Overpriced vending machines that eat your dimes.


--The humiliation of discovering the book you paid $95 + tax for in August is only worth $9.95 at book buyback in December.


--Finals Week.

###

From The Oracle of Bacon



Mo Rocca has a Bacon number of 2. Mo Rocca was in Bewitched (2005) with David Alan Grier
David Alan Grier was in Woodsman, The (2004) with Kevin Bacon



I just love that DAVID ALAN GRIER is the link between Mo Rocca and Kevin Bacon. Who knew??

###

Laughing At Self



I totally misspelled saki in my last post. Twice.



I'm working on a redesign of this blog's template. I'm gonna make it all pretty and slick one day soon.



I think Finals Week Stress has given me Heartburn. Way to feel too old for college.

###

Post 102: In which our heroine goes to Athens, and eventually has homemade sushi and lots of wine and sake in Atlanta



You read that correctly; yesterday I made my every-couple-of-years pilgrimage to Athens, GA. I went there directly from my grandparents, where I'd been since Thursday afternoon. I went to Athens to hear my ex play from his new Great Directors album (yes, it is five tracks named for five directors, and each song is centered around its namesake. Kind of clever and cute.) and hear The Men of Science play their biggest show ever. If you know me, you know I never go to shows, especially not shows that require me to drive out of my way to places like Athens, but I had a good time and didn't complain. (Ok, I complained a little when I first arrived, but once I ate dinner I chilled out and enjoyed myself. Plus I got to see a lot of people I hadn't seen in months and months, so that was nice, too.)



I ended up driving home straight after the show, which got me home at about 2 in the morning. I got up this morning and took my time about life (rare for me, and something I should probably do more of). I eventually got lunch, drank a few cups of coffee, filed some stray documents, swept out my bedroom, put away my clean clothes, and even studied a bit. Then I picked up Bonnie & Bonnie's Rob, and we went and had (homemade!) sushi at another friend's house. Lots of red wine and sake were had by all. We even managed to connect Paul Giamatti to Kevin Bacon in exactly six degrees. (Yes, we did realize "Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon" is so 10 years ago, but we didn't care.)



I'm waiting to hear how a friend's first date went...since I haven't heard anything yet and it's 11PM and they met at 6:30ish, I'm thinking it's going well.



And I'm planning to update the links sidebar sometime this week. I'm thinking after my finals are all completed.

###

Diners, Internet Dating, Tapas, and More!




CV and I are turning completely into this horrible, horrible single-girl-in-the-city cliche...so far this week we've commisserated at the same diner not once, but twice in the past 5 days. We had the same server both mornings, and today she saw fit to offer us man advice (uh, were we really being that loud and revealing? Answer: Yes.) In addition, we have now both entered the "money-back guarantee" world of internet dating. We thought it'd be more fun if we had each other. Or something.




Yesterday I had $1 tapas and $2 domestic bottles with Ori. We flirted shamelessly with the (cute) (artist) waiter. He remembered us from when we used to go there weekly over the summer, when we were both out of school. Ori and I make a rather striking pair, so we get recognized quite a lot out on the scene. Throw her man J in the mix and we three transform into a trio of devilish, multi-racial, pan-sexual trouble.



Before eating yesterday, Ori took me by the house she and J are hoping to buy. I am very, very jealous that she has a boy who wants to buy real estate with her. This is really all I want out of life: some man who wants to buy real estate with me. For real.

###

I should be doing everything except this




I want someone to hold my hand while I walk alone.



I want to go on a million different adventures by myself and with you.



I want only the things that are mutually exclusive, and I want them all at once.




And in non-navel gazing news, the ex and I are working on a Christmas song for y'all. It's sort of a melancholy anti-love letter to the holidays and being alone with another person. Or something equally pretentious sounding.



And speaking of pretentious, how about this piece of intellectual creme puff from the paper I'm supposed to be finishing as I type this: "If viral marketing works as the post-modern incarnation of word-of-mouth, will every human soon become a walking barrage of advertisements?"



Ok, all for now.

###

Tired of December



I'm tired of December. It's the worst month for me, what with the lack of decent sunshine any given day and the red-and-green cheer everywhere that I've never been able to get into. Great example: I only like the melancholy Christmas songs. If someone's voice isn't laced with heartbreak and disappointment I don't want to hear it.



I also think the lack of sunshine screwing with my seratonin levels makes me go a little crazier than I am the rest of the year. I feel a little unbalanced and in desperate need of attention. The "Look at me! Look at me!" compulsion kicks in and often gets me into impulsive trouble.



Yeah. I spent most of yesterday afternoon laying in my bed trying to keep the world from being my enemy.



I've got a paper to research and write, so I guess I'll write more later. Or not.
###

This is a sort of an inebriated post, so I'll probably regret it later but...




I can't go anywhere in this town.




I am a foodie snob.




I like sherry.




My god, I need to stay underground. Seeing My Favorite Mistake at the bar is not worth seeing the guy-I-think-is-kinda-cute-and-maybe-we-could-date. And yes, I realize I'm referencing Sheryl Crow on that whole My Favorite Mistake bit, and no, I don't like her music at all, but it is just so appropriate I can't help it.



For Christin: It's not that hard. (2-pronged arguement). Don't change your plans for me.



Yeah, I need to go to bed.

###

Oh, I get it




Jennifer is the chick CV and I met up in Helen at Oktoberfest. If I hadn't had so many pitchers of crappy beer + stein to the head I might have realized that sooner.

###

Yeah...this kind of explains a lot of things...

This is gonna be long, so brace yourself






Before I launch into my Thanksgiving week recap, a few things:





1) Must Gwen Stefani ruin all the songs from my favorite childhood musicals? I mean, really. This shit is rotten bananas. Just keep the bitch away from Oh What a Beautiful Morning and The Jet Song.





2) The 19-year-old who works at the Rec center and is in 2 of my classes just gets awesomer and awesomer. Today, for his persuasive speech, he explained the importance of barrier methods when having sex. The big finish came when he pulled out an anatomically-correct prop and demonstrated how to correctly put on a condom. Then he passed around a goodie bag of multi-colored condoms. Love him. LOVE HIM! Where were boys like that when I was 19?





3) Who is Jennifer and how did her number get in my phone book? It's a 678 number. Anyone know who this person is? Anyone? Anyone?





4) I'm sorry to all my lj fans for the barrage of posts the other day. I switched over to some new Blogger Beta thing and I think it messed with the RSS feed's head.





5) Happy Birthday, William Blake! Your poetry is still good over 200 years later.





Okay, onward to the casetheplace Best Week Ever!...





I flew out of Atlanta the afternoon of Friday, November 17, headed for Portland, Oregon via Phoenix. But before I even made it to Hartsfield-Jackson I had two rapid-succession gossip phone calls. Hey, juicy gossip never goes on vacation.





Usually, when I fly non-stop from ATL to the West Coast I take a Dramamine, bunch my sweater under my head and call it a night. But I hate the groggy feeling when I have to connect, so I chose to fly drug-free. Between my two flights I nearly finished In the Company of the Courtesan by Sarah Dunant. I read The Birth of Venus a few years back, and thought it was above average, but Courtesan had everything I could want in a novel: Renaissance-era Venice, a resilient courtesan, and a dwarf.




My plane landed in PDX around 10PM Pacific. My Aunt J was there to pick me up, and we then headed straight to Astoria for the weekend. (More on Astoria when Aunt J sends me the pics...hint hint). There was an incident in Kelso, Washington with a Burger King, a confusing intersection, and a police officer around 11PM that is best left to the imagination. But hey, no citations were issued! We finally made it to our motel about 1AM, which felt like 4AM to me.





I slept the sleep of the jet-lagged and just.





Sunday afternoon (November 19) Aunt J dropped me off at the Longview-Kelso Amtrak station. I rode the train to Seattle, sitting across from a thugged-out white boy who fell asleep. I just read.




Uncle Rob picked me up from the Seattle Amtrak station in his MINIVAN. Yes, I knew in my head Uncle Rob and Aunt Becky had purchased a minivan last fall when they found out they were having twins, but still, knowing and actually seeing are two very different things. And while they do have a minivan, they are STILL, nine months after the babies birth, in their one-bedroom apartment.





"So..." I asked. "Are you planning to stay in your apartment until the twins are 18?"





The real estate market in Seattle is vicious...we're talking Manhattan-stereotype vicious, so I definitely understand why they are loath to leave their current place in its awesome neighborhood. But still, those of us down South (in a mostly more realistic real estate market) think they're crazy.





I was in Seattle until Wednesday, when we all loaded up in the minivan and headed for Salem, Oregon for Thanksgiving with Aunt J and her extended Oregon family. I didn't do a whole lot in Seattle, since I've seen most of the major sites on past visits (Space Needle? Check. Salmon running in the locks? Check. UW? Check. Ferry boat ride as seen on Grey's Anatomy (minus Patrick Dempsey)? Check.) But I did go do the Seattle Underground Tour, which was pretty awesome. I'd like to do the Seattle Underworld Tour sometime when I'm visiting in the summer. I did the last tour of the day, which finished at 5:30PM, and of course at the higher latitude (as compared with Georgia) it was pitch black at that time, as well as POURING DOWN RAIN (as opposed to the nice light mist I am used to when in Seattle in the winter). I'd assured Becky I could ride the bus back to their place just fine, and I did, with a stop at Ross first where I found a Columbia Sportswear 3-in-1 rain jacket/fleece (I'd been eyeing it at the REI back home) for only $69.99! Normally that thing's $200. I congratulated myself for thinking smart and waiting to buy it.





On the very crowded, very steamy bus that took me up Capitol Hill I sat next to this really cute guy. I kept trying to catch his eye and he kept looking at his phone. Then when he got up from his seat I noticed he was wearing a polka dot hat, so clearly it was not meant to be.





The traffic Wednesday on I-5 heading south out of Seattle was off the chain. A 4-hour drive took 7 hours. Augie (the boy twin) screamed for a good couple of hours, so we three adults started to sing. We started off with "Old McDonald Had a Farm" and soon progressed to "YMCA" ("Omigod, we're going to make him gay!" I joked. To which Uncle Rob rolled his eyes and said, "Yeah, cause we all know that's how that happens.") Apparently Augie finds gay anthems soothing because he fell asleep in the middle of "I Will Survive."





Thanksgiving day was 33 people at Aunt J's sister-in-laws house eating at 3 long tables arranged in a U in the garage.





The next afternoon, I made my first Black Friday shopping trip, during which I purchased a Go! phone for Aunt J (Merry Christmas!), a pair of jeans and a hat for my cousin Molly (Merry Christmas!), a whole bunch of clothes at Old Navy for me (Merry Christmas!), and an iPod shuffle for me (MERRY MERRY CHRISTMAS!) I saved almost $8 on the iPod simply because there is no sales tax in Oregon.




I was looking at the display model in Circuit City and flagged down a salesgirl to get it out of the case for me.




"Doesn't it come with a USB dock?" I asked, having researched (ok, lusted after) the newly designed shuffle on apple.com for the last umpteen months.





"Oh no, the Shuffle doesn't come with a dock."





When she returned and handed me the boxed shuffle, I looked on the back to see what it had to say for itself: "Includes iPod shuffle, earphones, dock."





This is why I generally don't pay any attention to the expertise of salesclerks.





I flew out of Portland Saturday morning at 11:15AM, and I didn't want to get on the plane to go back to the A. It had nothing to do with what I was leaving, but everything to do with what I was going back to: stress, stress, stress.





I felt sick the whole travel time back.





Melissa met me at the airport, and after waiting a bajillion years for my checked bags, we rode the train to her car and went to Waffle House. The jukebox played "Folsom Prison Blues" and "Blue Christmas" as I ate my All-Star Special with bacon and grits, and I knew, for better or worse, I was home.





At least for now.

###

This Week in Review will feature:


Goonies, Salmon, Seattle, Trailer Parks, Black Friday, Twin Babies, iPod Shuffle, GoPhone, Dial-Up, Amtrak, Phoenix Layover, French Dudes on the MARTA Train, and much, much more!



But first, a word from our sponsor, SLEEP.

###

3 things guaranteed to make me smile




1) Going out to brunch on Tuesday with Ori (and have I ever mentioned that brunch is my favorite meal ever? Oh, I have? Move along, then, move along) and having our server recognize me by my fur collar. Yes, that's right, my accessories are so distinctive I have waitstaff asking to pet me, and then saying, "Wait...didn't you wear this in here last winter?"




2) Anytime I go out and I'm introduced to someone, and my handle is part of the intro. "Omigod, you're casetheplace? I totally love your comments."




3) Reruns of Roseanne on Oxygen.

###

I believe in good fortune and destiny




Remember a few posts ago when I asked the blog gods to make the semester end and to put lots of money in my checking account? While they didn't answer the part about making the semester end faster (only time can do that), I did get a rather definitive response on the money front:



In the mail today were two envelopes, one with a $5 Shell gas gift card, one with a financial aid letter telling me I have been awarded the FUCKING HOPE SCHOLARSHIP for this school year. For those of you who are not familiar with Hope, this means that my tuition and fees are paid for. And I don't have to pay it back. Ever. Cause it's a goddamn scholarship, yo. This also means that the private loan I took out on top of my regular Staffords is no longer needed; the funds have been returned to the lender and I won't have to worry about accruing crazy interest while I finish up school. Hott damn! (*does a little happy squirm and giggle*)



Special thanks to Patrick for encouraging me to apply for Hope even though I thought I didn't qualify. You rule!

###

Final Project



The photos at left are a little teaser for the final project I'm working on for one of my classes this semester. My friend Ghini shot me and Bonnie's Robert (not to be confused with the 8 million other Robert's out there) in an abandoned office at the Pullman Trainyard here in the ATL. Rob was the Boss From Hell and I was the Frazzled Underling. There was much method acting by Rob and lots of me trying not to giggle at his bossiness.

###

"You came back from Oktoberfest with a 12-pack of Miller Lite?"


or


2 Posts in 1 Night





How many Scorpios can one Taurimini know? I mean, geez Louise, I've spent half my night drinking Miller Lite and typing birthday wishes to all my friends, acquaintances, and others. My favorite was to my friend Patrick. His birthday is today (11/08) and I waited until it was clear the Dems had taken both houses before typng the following:






Happy Birthday to you



Happy Birthday to you



Democrats took the Senate



And the U.S. House too!







HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SCORPIOS NEAR AND FAR!!

###

If you can take the heat...




Man, Bravo's Top Chef has totally sucked me in this season. I mean, a loudmouthed Filipina dyke and a whole bunch of hott hott chef dudes?!? HOT DAMN! My 2 favorite hotties: Sam (duh) and Ilan. Which leads me to my new revelation: I totally should date a chef. I mean, the good ones are all crazy workaholics like me, which means I wouldn't feel pressured by overneediness or anything. And they wouldn't take me out to eat anywhere crappy.



I'm just sayin'.



Please make this semester end and a whole bunch of money appear in my checking account. Thanks!

###

Well, since I can't seem to get an indignant rise out of anyone, I guess I'll stop trying to push y'alls buttons for a while.




It's raining. It's Election Day. I voted, and as usual, the little old lady poll workers thought me and my rainboots were the cutest thing ever. One even commented on how my last name was like "that adorable little Muppet from that movie...you know, Yoda." I think she officially became the coolest little old lady ever for that remark.




In just over a week I fly to the Left Coast! My aunt is taking me to Astoria, Oregon for the weekend before Thanksgiving. I've been to Astoria once before, when I lived in Portland. Astoria is famous for being the town where they shot Kindergarten Cop AND The Goonies. I think I need to practice my Truffle Shuffle.




Then I think I'm going to ride the train or bus up to Seattle for a few days and visit my uncle and his family. They are encouraging this, as I think they would like any help they can get with the twins. I'll then ride down with them on Wednesday to Salem, Oregon for Thanksgiving time with my aunt and her (step) children. Friday I'll probably get roped into a trip to the mall. Saturday morning I fly back home to the ATL.




So...excited...

###

While I'm on a politically incorrect roll...



I would just like to note that it amuses me to no end to know that my other two group members for this project due tomorrow are both Indians. One "red dot" and the other "feather."



(Oh man, I am so going to liberal hell for that one...good thing I'm not a liberal and I don't believe in hell.)



Although, to be truthful, I'm not sure if "red dot" is really Indian or Pakistani. I haven't thought to ask until now, and I don't think she'd appreciate a late-night phone call that would go something like, "Hey, I'm writing a blog entry in which I refer to you as a 'red dot Indian', which got me thinking: are you really Indian, or are you perhaps Pakistani?"

###

Top 8


In which our heroine tells you about her top 8 myspace friends based solely on their respective user pic, using only one descriptive phrase per friend.



I am friends with a black chick, a black dude, a chick with pink hair, a girl next to a glacier, an emo-ed out guy with sunglasses, a pair of Chuck Taylors, "Dead Disco", and a Robert Palmer girl.

###

Where's Jim?



I adore The Office, especially the American version. I show my devotion at work with an editorial-spread pic of the cast torn from an old Entertainment Weekly thumb-tacked to my cube wall, right next to my monitor. Since everyone congregates in my cube at one time or another, and no one in my office had ever commented on it, I assumed I was the only Office fan around.



Until today, when it was announced in our weekly staff meeting that I was being moved to the Copy Cube "to make room for the new people."



"The Copy Cube?" I said, incredulously. "Where will the printers go?"



"Oh, they'll still be there. We'll just scoot them over and make room for you."



(Please keep in mind that this is your average-sized cube, which is pretty much crammed full of various machines that everyone in the office uses constantly, such as a black-and-white printer, a color printer, the fax machine, and, the quietest of them all, the shredder.)



I just sort of sat there, my mouth agape, as the meeting ended and everyone dispersed. My coworker M, who I'd suspected was a lot hipper than he let on, came up to me and said, "Feels kind of like a bad episode of The Office, huh?"



"Yeah," I said. "At least they didn't move me into the men's room."



Thankfully, my boss came to me soon afterwards and apologized, since she had no idea they were planning on moving me, and especially not to the Copy Cube. She vowed to be the champion of my cause, and swore to keep me out of the Copy Cube, come what may. So at least I'm safe for now.



I'm telling you, this is why I plan to be at work at least a few hours every day next semester. You only come in a few days a week and next thing you know you're working out of the break room mini-fridge.

###

Yeah



I was bored last night, waiting for Bonnie & Robert to pick me up for a show at Dad's Garage, so I decided to check out the dating sites and see what kind of hottness awaits me in the ATL dating pool.



Let me just say the pool's chlorination factor is totally questionable. For one thing, I knew half the guys aged 21-35 already. Of the guys I already knew, the majority myself or one of my friends had dated at some point or another. The rest of the guys I knew were seriously undatable. Which leaves the dudes I don't know, who all seem to like Adam Sandler movies, Murakami novels, or touring with their band. (FYI, things I am totally not into: Adam Sandler, Japanophiles, dudes in bands.)



Oh well, I don't have time for dudes anyway.

###

Vertigo




No, my life hasn't turned into a Hitchcock film (yet). Remember that beer stein to the head from the previous post? Well, my hangover from hell never disappeared this week, and I got woozier and woozier, and finally the vertigo was so bad last night that I called up my dad and made him take me to the emergency room. I figured the blow-to-the-head-with-a-blunt-object and I-can-see-the-world-spinning might be related.



The last time I'd been to the emergency room was when I took a certain Ms. E in when she cracked her elbow. The last time I'd been to the emergency room for myself was when I cracked my elbow on a certain junkyard found object in a certain someone-and-someone-else's dorm room in a certain C-ton, Ga. That was my freshman year of college, and my second trip to the emergency room that year (and ever), although there was no way I could compete for most-trips-to-the-emergency-room with all the other drama queens out-dramaing me all over the place.




Anyway, I go to the emergency room. I retell the beer-stein-to-the-head story to about 5 different people before being placed in my very own exam room, which is bigger and nicer than any other exam room I'd ever seen in my various visits to the emergency room. This is my first inkling that head trauma patients get slightly better treatment than the rest of the masses.




I wait a while for my doctor, filling out my intake forms and trying not to fall over. When the doctor finally enters the room, I nearly do fall over, for it is not the old, worn-out ER doctor I was expecting, but a young, energetic McDoc. (He looked like Noah Wylie and T.R. Knight's love child.)



I was a little embarrassed having to explain my how-I-got-injured story to him, but thankfully he had a sense of humor and gave me a little good-natured hell about it. Not only was he a McDoc, he was a witty McDoc. When he was peering in my ears, trying to determine if I'd done something to my ear drums (he didn't see anything), I was trying to figure out how one picked up their ER doctor. I mean, you hear these stories all the time, right? Patients and doctors falling madly in love, meeting over broken legs and ruptured appendicts. It even happened to Doctor Jack on Lost. But what I don't get is how does it happen?? Who asks who out? Clearly the doctor can't, since it would be unprofessional and all, so I guess it's up to the patient? But doesn't the patient feel like shit, and probably look like shit, and wouldn't it be kind of creepy to ask your doctor out anyway?



I wondered about this further after McDoc left the room, and came to the conclusion that there was no way to ask McDoc out, and besides, McDocs spend all there time working and I'm a demanding bitch who needs lots and lots of attention, so it would probably never work anyway.



Oh, you probably want to know how I'm doing. Well, there was a CAT scan, and it looked fine, so no internal bleeding or anything. I have a post-concussion something or other, which basically means I was hit in the head, I feel bad, and I will feel better eventually. I was also prescribed anti-vertigo meds, which are essentially prescription-strength Dramamine. I'm not able to drive until I go see my primary care doctor tomorrow and he clears me for it...but since I'm still dizzy, I have a feeling he won't.



So that's my little drama of the week. Good times, good times. Ok, not really.

###

Long post about lots of things



I know I'm a handful, I know I'm difficult, but really, this girl can't help it. I'm basically a 5'4" bundle of nervous energy. Like, all the goddamn time. I'm always in a mad rush to DO THINGS and ACCOMPLISH THINGS and MOVE FORWARD.


Great example:This past weekend, which was basically two weeks worth of shit rolled into 3 1/2 days.



Thursday started out badly. I got back a paper I wrote for a class I hate and (dear god, this is so humiliating) I made a goddamn B+ on it. I know, I know, I'm a total brat for freaking out about this, and I didn't even put any time or effort into the thing because I have zero respect for the class or the professor, but this is the first time in my college career that I've ever made less than an 'A' on a paper. I was pretty pissed about that, and worried that it might be a bad omen for the speech I had to give in my next class. But I actually did really well and felt great giving the speech, so hopefully it was an 'A.'



After I got done with classes I met up with CV. We were going to go to a scotch tasting that evening, but when we arrived at the venue we discovered that the crowd was...not what we were hoping for. Dejected, we were walking back to CV's loft when we passed the Westin.



"Omigod, let's go up to the top and have drinks."



And so we did. That's right, we went to the top of the freakin' Westin in downtown Atlanta to have drinks in the Sundial Lounge on a Thursday night. We even ordered doofy frozen drinks in souvenir glasses. But the doofiest moment of all came when, after descending in the Great Glass Elevator 73 floors, we walk outside into the rain and I suddenly realize I've left my jacket. In the Sundial Lounge. 73 stories up.



We ended the night with our weekly viewing of The Office (did you see how Ryan downed that Jager bomb??) and Grey's Anatomy (uh...not the best episode ever, seeing how I can't even remember anything worth noting.)



Friday afternoon CV and I headed up to Helen, Georgia for the World's Longest Oktoberfest! We had a great hotel room, in that it was on the river, walking distance to the Festhalle, and not as expensive as every other room in town. We did meet a cool couple we ended up hanging out with for most of the evening, I ended up in the damn congo line while they were playing "Dixie" in my attempts to return to our table after going to the ladies room, and much beer was consumed. I think the highlight(?) of the evening was when I was knocked in the head by a commemorative beer stein on the dance floor. (I am so not making this up...I don't need to make things like this up. It is totally real. Ask CV.) Unfortunately, the Festhalle and town shut down just before midnight, so our "party all night!" attitude had to be readjusted to "Let's watch Along Came Polly in the hotel room until we fall asleep!"



Saturday there was much hangover moaning as we returned to the city. I went and saw Marie Antoinette that night, which was a total let down, just so you know.



Sunday there was a photo shoot in a train yard, dinner, and a hot tub.



And those are just the highlights of everything I did this past weekend. This post would be much, much longer if I included everything.

###

Your mom stays at the Effenhaus



I have to get out of this town....is it 2008 yet?



I've been doing something EVERY SINGLE WEEKEND for the past forever, and my Mondays-thru-Thursdays are of course jam-packed. Thank god Thanksgiving break is only a month away.



I have lots and lots and lots of pictures of me doing all sorts of things that I haven't posted...if I ever get a spare moment I promise to, definitely. Maybe. Possibly.



Look, it just might happen, ok?



And the title is totally for CV. We'll always have Oktoberfest 2006.

###

Neglectful




I've neglected this blog, because my busyness has caught up with me the past week or so. Unfortunately, in the hierarchy of personal importance this blog ranks extremely low. So you'll just have to amuse yourselves for a while.

###

Inappropriate




Yes, I can be quite inappropriate at times. Especially after a few drinks. HOWEVER! I am doing better. I no longer set things on fire, try to sell Tylenol I found in the host's medicine cabinet, or take my top off. See, I'm practically a completely respectable adult now.




I say this because I went to a party last night where, other than for the two people I went with, I knew no one. I had a great time, made a few new friends, and (mostly) behaved like a sane person. Super ostentatious casetheplace has perhaps morphed into slightly ostentatious casetheplace. I think this is a great step in the personal growth process. Go me! Rah rah rah!



I did, however, wake up this morning with an earache, and it hasn't gone away as of now. So I may have to go to the doctor Monday to make sure I don't have an ear infection...yuck. Stupid frailty of the human body and all that.



I'm really feeling ok with life overall. It's pretty good. I have my whiney things, but really, that's just me being my sometimes-slightly-bitchy self. Pay it no mind.

###

More weekend




My favorite moment occurred when, at one point, Patrick and I were sitting at the bar talking about the important things in life.



"But what really matters," I said, "is that my hair looks really good tonight."




"Well," replied Patrick, "you are in a gay bar."



I mean, that conversation works on so many levels. I'm pretty vain about my hair, so it works on that level. And having great hair in a gay bar...well, duh. But the best part is it works on that ironic level too, because while I do have great hair in a gay bar, I am a (mostly) straight woman in a gay bar. And by gay bar I mean 99% populated by gay men (don't get it twisted). So even though it totally rocks that I have great hair in a gay bar, where it totally matters, at a fundamental level it totally doesn't matter because I'm not about to attract anyone in that setting regardless of how my hair looks.



And speaking of my hair, I'm getting it cut and colored this Friday, so expect pics of the new do sometime next week.

###

Complaints + Weekend Recap


I was so excited about the cooler weather and even bought a few new sweaters in commemoration. Then it had to go all Indian Summer (do I look like I care that that is not really an acceptable term anymore? DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE??) on me and now it's back to 85 during the day and me in flip flops. Goddamnit. I want fall and I want it now!



This week is kicking my ass, what with all the tests and papers due and stuff. I still haven't finished my piracy paper due tomorrow morning...and no, it's not about the swashbuckling kind of piracy but the intellectual property rights/copyright infringement kind. Yeah, that's what I get for being a Journalism major. Stupid me. If I'd stuck with History I might actually be writing about walk-the-plank pirates. Speaking of pirates, you hear what the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie is rated? That's right, it's rated "Arrr!"



Moving on.



Visiting Patrick in Statesboro (affectionately known to the locals as "the Boro") this weekend was great. He showed me the Georgia Southern campus and where he worked, we hit up the local Wal-Mart (Welcome to the New South! Thank you, Sam Walton!), and by late afternoon we were walking the sands of Tybee Island. That night we did some good ol' fashioned partying in Savannah, including watching the drag show at Club One (made famous by Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil" which is really good, by the by, and you should totally read). Patrick and I also spent a great deal of time trash-talking Paula Deen, who's face is fucking everywhere in that town. I woke up the next day feeling like someone had beaten me with a tire iron, so the weekend was a success.



I guess I should go to class now, but I promise more exciting tales of mischief and adventure later!

###

Overkill


(examples courtesy of our heroine's current existence)




1) Requiring eight sources for a five-page paper.



2) Having next Monday off from work because it's COLUMBUS DAY. Yea to killin' Injuns as an excuse to keep civil servants at home! Or something.



3) Communicating with roomates via Myspace and Facebook.

###

Back in the game (maybe)



I am now "Here for" dating on myspace. Let the skeevy-dudes-with-Honda-Civics messaging begin.

###

Nice job




There were only 4 A's on the test I mentioned in the previous post. I had the highest grade in the class---a 95. I missed a couple multiple choice but nailed the essay question for the full 20 points. Kinda-hott-but-maybe-just-creepy professor told me "Nice job" as he handed it back. He had no comment for anyone else's test. In short, I'm rocking POLS 37--'s face off.



Last night I went over to CV's for beer and television. We watched The Office (so good) followed by Grey's Anatomy (best episode EVER). Then we decided to go to our local bar/club and flirt with the cute bartender and maybe some of the cute clientale.



Unfortunately for us, Thursday nights is "jungle bass" night. I mean, WTF?? Who listens to jungle anymore? What is this, 1998? (And if it is 1998, where was the x and the glow sticks?) The clientale was as to be expected (pretty much completely disappointing), and we had no luck prowling. CV at least got hit on, but we're not really sure if that was a compliment or not since the guy was, in CV's words, "totally K-Fedded out."



However, we did get our third round of drinks free, so going out wasn't a total wash.



Tonight I'm going to a play with some people I haven't seen since New Year's Eve, and tomorrow I go see Patrick in Statesboro.



And this totally cracks me up: http://www.theonion.com/content/node/53278

###

First test of the semester, and I'm 99% certain I made an A.



It's almost October, and that means lots of fun weekend road trips (Georgia National Fair! Oktoberfest! Grandma and Grandpa's house!) It also means fresh apples, cooler weather (it was sooo nice and chilly this morning), Halloween costumes (and I've got a good one up my sleeve), and registering for my spring semester classes. That's right...soon and very soon I'll be starting my "senior" year of college. Dear god, sometimes I thought I'd never get here.



Dancing With the Stars is my perfect Tuesday night unwinding activity. Plus I get to call in and vote for my favorites. Tonight I voted for Willa Ford, because she really is good and I feel bad that she's almost been eliminated twice. I keep trying to vote for my boys (Mario Lopez and Joey Lawrence) but I can't get through on their numbers. I guess all the rest of cheesy America loves them too.



My bronchitis is 95% gone now, which is great. I can actually do basic human activities like walk across campus or laugh at a joke without succumbing to a horrible coughing fit.

###

Thursday is the new Friday



Since I don't have work or school on Fridays, Thursday is my Friday. Tonight the new seasons of The Office and Grey's Anatomy premiered, thus making this the best Thursday (Friday?) ever.



CV and I also booked our room for Oktoberfest tonight, which is something we've talked about doing for about a year. I've never been to Helen for Oktoberfest...in fact, haven't been to Helen since I was a little girl, so I'm super excited about the absolute cheese of it all. (Helen is a town in North Georgia that's been tarted up to look like a quaint Bavarian village. It's total 100% cheese product.) Maybe we'll meet the men of our dreams there...or at least some drunk Good Ol' Boys.

###

This is for Christin, per our conversation earlier today RE: Dancing with the Stars




http://popwatch.ew.com/popwatch/2006/09/mario_lopez_is_.html

###

Sophomre Reality



I got an e-mail from my university's career services with the above phrase as the subject. Wow. I just had to share.

###

Several things




1) When I was younger, I used to think my Uncle Rob was the coolest person ever. He embodied (in my mind) the very best of the Gen X slacker dude of the nineties. I mean, he (in no particular order, and all before I turned 13) did an archeological dig in El Salvador while still in college, was engaged to a vegetarian artist with waist-length hennaed hair (he eventually broke it off), hitchhiked up and down the West Coast (much to my Grandmother's worry and chagrin), worked with Vietnamese refugees on what pretty much amounted to a commune in rural Georgia, had a ponytail, moved to Tacoma in 1993, and a few years later ended up in Seattle, where he's been ever since. He's now married with twin babies. I think he easily qualifies as "coolest dad ever." (See picture at top of post, note Wu-Tang Clan t-shirt)





2) I'm feeling better today. The roomates let me drink their Pedialyte. I called in sick to work. My fever broke sometime mid-morning. Several persons called to check on me. I caught up on every episode of this season's Project Runway that I'd missed. My daddy brought me lunch.





3) I'm still adjusting to this whole being single thing. At first it was like, "Awesome! I have all this alone time!" Now it's more like, "Uh...I have all this alone time...does anyone want to talk to me? Please?" I called Rob (The Ex) tonight and talked to him about this. (After a summer of mostly ignoring one another, we're finally at a point where we can begin to rebuild a friendship without it being completely and totally weird.)




"Yeah, it's definitely been an adjustment for me, too," he said.





"I mean, we were together for a fourth of my life. That's a long time. (pause) No wait, a fifth. A fifth of my life. That's still a long time."





"Yeah, it is. We were together for only a sixth of my life, so I guess it's not quite as hard for me."




That made me laugh and feel a little better.





4) I hate grocery shopping these days. I used to love it, and I still do if I have more than just myself to cook for, but shopping for one is incredibly depressing. Your basket ends up looking like a horrible Lean Cuisine/Yogurt/Granola bar/Ice cream Bridget Jones-meets-Miranda Hobbs nightmare of single-girl-in-the-city loneliness.





And I don't really cook anymore. And I love to cook! Cooking was one of those decompressing activities I loved to do after work or school. It took my mind off of everything and produced something delicious and useful at the end. I think I need to find more excuses to cook.

###

My last post was a little bitter.




I think I have the flu. I thought I'd "gotten better" over the weekend, but today, during my last class, I started feeling light-headed and nauseated. I thought about how embarrassing it would be, to be that kid in POLS 37-- who vomited in class. I'd forever be known as that kid who vomited in the middle of maybe-hott-but-also-kind-of-creepy Prof's lecture on the various paygrades and classifications of federal employees. Then they'd have to bring in the kitty litter to throw on the puke and I'd get sent to the principal's office so the secretary could call my dad to come pick me up and everyone else would get to go outside for an early recess.




Sorry, got a little retro-delusional for a moment. Back to the present.



Thankfully class ended early without me vomiting. I called Ori and told her I would not be working out today, and then suffered through an excrutiatingly pungent MARTA ride home. I try to be a good girl and support my mass transit and whatnot, but MARTA really does smell bad.



I felt really weak and gross and passed out for a couple of hours. Then I got up, ate some soup, and took my temperature. 101.1 degrees Farhenheit. Damnit.



I guess I'll have to call in sick to work tomorrow, which sucks since we were going to go have a "working lunch" at this marketing firms swank digs in Midtown. I was really looking forward to it, too. Sigh. Maybe I'll feel up to it in the AM...

###

10:15pm, Friday night




"Hey, I'm just calling to see how the movie was."




"Oh, there was no movie. I got cancelled on at the last minute."




"So what are you doing instead?"




"I'm sitting here watching public broadcasting, which I totally don't mind doing on a Friday night, but it has to be my choice. I have to CHOOSE to watch public broadcasting on a Friday night...it totally sucks if you're doing it because your plans fell through at the last minute and it's way too late to make other plans."




"Oh, I so know what you mean." (pause) "Do you want to go get a cup of coffee or a beer or something?"




"YES!"

###

Everyone in my house is sick.




How's everyone in your house?

###

Recipe for the hangover from hell



1 glass of wine + 1/2 cup of cider + 1 Long Island Iced Tea + 1 PBR + 1 Cranberry Margarita muddled with 7 cigarettes = Feeling like shit at school the next day



Apparently college kids don't drink anymore, at least the ones in my classes. Everytime I turned bleary-eyed to one of my classmates and mumbled, "I'm sorry, I'm just really hungover," they all looked aghast and said something about how they don't drink. WTF?!?!? I'm the oldest person in most of my Tuesday-Thursday classes and I'm the one showing up hungover. It's shameful. It totally explains why my school is not considered a first-tier school. How can you claim to have received a proper liberal arts education without knowing how to properly nurse a hangover?



I also had my first yoga class today after I finished with my academic classes. I thought I'd signed up for an hour session but I actually signed up for an hour and a half. I was a little worried that this was going to end poorly, what with the hangover and all, but it actually went really well and I ended up feeling almost human by the end of it.



Yeah, this entry totally proves that sometimes I just write things here because I have nothing better to do.

###

Maybe you have to go backwards to go forwards?




Lately, everything is turning up teenager.



It all started with Back to School.



Once upon a time, like when my aunt and uncle went there, my college was a big time non-traditional student commuter campus. That all changed ten years ago with the Olympics and the construction of the Village. Suddenly, there was a huge effort to change the demographic of my college to a more "traditional aged" student body. Fast forward to 2006 and the infamous commuter college has morphed into an "urban campus" featuring about a bajillion 18- and 19-year-old suburbanite kids who don't know how to walk down a crowded city sidewalk (stay to the right and don't take up the whole damn thing). Maybe if I was majoring in business or something I wouldn't have to deal with them quite so much, but it seems the bulk of my classes are filled with these bright-eyed OTP kids from Fayetteville and Gwinnett. Factor in that it's RUSH WEEK OMIGOD and that WRAS keeps having concerts and stuff that take up the whole courtyard just at the precise moment I must cross it to be in class and I'm already five minutes late and you can just begin to imagine how I feel when I'm at school.




Besides the hell that is finishing your undergrad when you're already too jaded and world-weary to give much of a damn anymore, there have been other things in my life that scream teenager. I was sitting at the bar for my friend C's birthday celebration last week, and somehow we started talking about Hunch Punch.



"Omigod, remember drinking Hunch Punch?"



Yes, yes I do. In case you don't know, Hunch Punch is basically Everclear and punch with chunks of fruit in it. Really "great" Hunch Punch involves soaking the fruit, such as strawberries and melons, in the Everclear for 24-48 hours, the goal being that all you have to do is eat a piece of fruit to get drunk. The Hunch Punch is stored and served in a large cooler or trash can, or, if the party's really classy, in the bathtub.



One of the guys in our group claimed that his old fraternity made Hunch Punch simply by mixing Everclear and Kool-Aid. Ew. That is not Hunch Punch; that's just gross frat boys being cheap.



All the Hunch Punch talk dredged up all sorts of memories of when I was 18 and 19. Thankfully, there has been no Hunch Punch in my life since then.



Then tonight, at my roomate Jess's birthday celebration (Ever notice how all your friends seem to have their birthdays at once? It's astrology, stupid! For real.) I met a dude who ended up being friends with the little brother of a girl I knew at West Georgia. That took me back to when I was 16 (shudder, shudder). We also had Jell-o shots, made with Mr Boston, for chrissakes. Mr Boston and McCormick (the two cheapest, most disgusting excuses for vodka ever created) both were good friends of mine at 16, sadly enough.



The most unexpected teenager moment , though, occured the other day. I was talking on the phone with this guy and then he started to play his guitar while we were talking. Whoa. That's like how guys used to do when I was 14 and 15. I was completely surprised. Not mad, mind you, just a little amused at the absurdity of the situation.



Anyway, enough ramblings. I'm off to bed, because I'm donating blood in the morning and running a few errands before disappearing to the mountains for the weekend. Everyone have a good holiday weekend without me.

###

Yes, Virginia, Amish people really do shop at Wal-Mart

Yes, Virginia, Amish people really do shop at Wal-Mart
Originally uploaded by casetheplace.

And I have the photo to prove it.

Taken August 10, 2006 in Sturgis, Michigan.

Teenagers make me feel old




That's all.

###

Untameable




"How is it we both have 'ones who got away'?"



"Because that's the life of a bad girl."



Originally, I intended today's entry to be about Back to School and the quirks of my various professors, but that got thrown out the window when I turned on the tv tonight and the second season finale of Sex in the City was on. At the very end of the episode, Carrie stops Big as he's leaving his engagement party to the insipid Natasha, has a Barbra Streisand moment and, as she walks away, suddenly realizes that she's one of those women who can't be tamed by any man, but needs someone just as wild to run free with.



It gets me every time, really deep in the throat. Even the unfortunate wild-horses-run-free visual metaphor doesn't dampen the impact.



"You know you'll never be a good girl. That it will always be an act. You might even be able to pull that act off for a long time, but you'll really always be a bad girl underneath."



Am I really a bad girl? I guess I am. Bad girls are lonely girls, and let's face it, I'm pretty fucking lonely. Like, all the goddamn time. It's always there, Loneliness, along with Depression and Insomnia. I mean, I've learned a lot about how to manage and cope with those three constants, but I can't ever truly eliminate any of them. They usually don't hang out at the forefront of my existence anymore, and generally I'm fairly ok with life and all, but I know they're always around somewhere, and I have to be extra careful not to invite them in for dinner, because Loneliness and Depression and Insomnia are awful house guests that can take up residence faster than you can say, "You, Me & Dupree."



Bad girls are prone to showy decisions. For example, given the choice between quietly slipping in late or breathlessly breezing in with a sincere, "I'm so sorry I'm late! The traffic was just awful! Please, don't let me interrupt..." the bad girl will always choose the choice that will bring the most attention. And everyone knows I get off on attention, although I'm trying self-restraint more and more as I get older. Reining it in sometimes has its advantages.



Bad girls also have a hard time sustaining romantic relationships. They tend to attract those already attached, and thus often find themselves living the life of the mistress.



Being a mistress has its advantages. For one thing, the mistress can say things the wife (and here I use "wife" as a generic term that encompasses any significant other) never could, like the best driving directions form Point A to Point B, or how his new moustache looks like a moldy slug stuck underneath his nose. She can sass him six ways to Sunday and never make him mad. She doesn't have to pick up after him, or remind him to take out the trash. But while mistresses tend to go to the better parties and wear the better shoes and enjoy all the fine things the AmEx can buy, they also go to sleep at night alone.



And while sometimes a solitary bed just feels right, sometimes it just feels lonely.



Which brings us right back to where we started, about bad girls being lonely girls.



Us bad girls, we're so lonely sometimes we settle for something so wrong just to have another body around. But it always ends in disaster.



Having another body around soon ceases to be enough, because bad girls are really all mushy and romantic deep down. We live our lives like lilies of the field, going almost exclusively on faith, with the sincere belief that tomorrow is another day. We want to find connection with someone who understands, and we hold out hope that maybe that someone is out there: Someone just as bad, just as untameable, and just self-aware enough to rein it in a little as needed. A partner, not a body.

###

It hurts



It hurts to be back in Atlanta. It does. I've been discontent on and off since I moved back from Oregon in 2001. I keep trying to plot my escape, but the pull of unfinished business has kept me in town much longer than I anticipated.



Now I have only one more bit of business to wrap up: my undergrad degree. Once that is safely in my hands come December 2007, I'm 98% certain I'm out of the ATL. 2008 is the year, baby. It's time. Travelling this month really brought that into focus for me. I'm going to drive myself crazy if I stay here. For serious. This whole damn city is mad, and being here makes me mad. And I can't hardly write here. For real. I've always written better elsewhere, like when I'm in the mountains or when I travel or when I was in that town I hated so much (Carrollton) or when I lived in Portland. It's kind of funny, because so much of what I write screams, "ATLANTA!" but I can't write about my muse city when I'm here. Muses are better with some distance.



I'm so torn, because part of me wants to be completely fabulous and high-rolling and playing with the big boys in, say, Washington, D.C. come graduation, and a whole 'nother part of me wants to go disappear completely off the map. I've always felt like this, though. I always seem to want two completely opposed ideals at exactly the same time. I think it has everything to do with being a Tauremini, and an only child who grew up in a very bohemian, very weird household and had a really volatile childhood. Instability and pressure are familiar; they are comfortable. But I also really crave stability and normal things...all the things I never really had. Ever.



So maybe I need to find some sort of compromise...something partially normal and partially eccentric. And maybe I need to stop being so hard on myself and my past mistakes and trying to make up for lost time.



(This ended up way more confessional than I was planning.)

###

Whirlwind

or

By the numbers



Dates out of town: August 4, 2006 to August 18, 2006, with a brief stopover in Atlanta August 8 & 9.



States visited: 12



State(s) visited for the first time: 1



Canadian province(s) visited: 1



Friends I hadn't seen in 4 years or more: 2



New friends made: Many



Atlanta friends who missed me terribly while I was away (official tally): 4



Bizarre hook-ups that occurred while I was out of town (excluding my own): 2



Weddings attended: 1



50th Wedding Anniversary celebrations attended: 1



Cost of the road atlas I purchased despite my father protesting that we didn't "need no stinking atlas": $4.97 + tax



Number of times we referenced said atlas: Innumerable



Number of Canadian border patrol officers who gave me a weird look when I said I was entering the country to visit my pen pal: 4



Number of attendees to the International Aids Conference in Toronto: app. 50,000



Number of available hotel rooms in Toronto during the International Aids Conference: 0



Number of unavailable hotel rooms my dad and I managed to plead our way into renting: 1



Number of times kind or not-so-kind strangers, including law enforcement, pointed out the fact that the car was smoking and/or on fire: 3



Canadian dollars spent at H&M: 160



Items purchased at H&M: 11



Cost to find out the answer to my burning question of just where exactly Canadian strippers put their Loonies: app. $50 Canadian (including tips)



Cost to park on the Canadian side of Niagara Falls: $18 Canadian



Non-stop driving hours from Buffalo, NY to Atlanta, GA: 18



Actual driving hours from Buffalo, NY to Atlanta, GA, including stopping at Bob Evans for dinner and all bathroom and gas breaks: 20

###

Welcome to Atlanta



I must be home. It's a Saturday morning at 11:30am, I have a slight hangover, I'm about to have brunch with Ori & J, and I think I gave the bartender my number last night.

###

Post 56: In which our heroine aches all over



It's my own damn fault, really. Trying to cram three exhaustive trips into the span of two weeks and all. But it's been so exhilirating!



My dad and I are still in Michiana (the area where Michigan and Indiana meet) where we've been since Thursday. We leave in a few hours for Trip 3: O! O! Toronto! and my reunification with the Awesomest Pen Pal and Oldest Continuous Friend of Our Heroine, Allison (aka Allie). I'm totally super excited.



This weekend in Michiana was psycho busy insane, what with Grandma scheduling waayyy too many things for us to do, my aunt cutting her foot open and having to get stitches, throwing the 50th Wedding Anniversary party Friday night, and throwing the Miller Family reunion Saturday afternoon. By 4 o'clock Saturday I bolted from family and responsibility and flagged down my cousins who were already out on the lake tubing. I stripped down to the little red bikini and soaked up some sun. Then my turn being pulled in the tube came.



Let's just say everything went well for a while, until Cousin Tom, frustrated in my amazing ability to hold on, took me over a really huge, rough wave, and away I flew. SMACK! I felt my face hit the water first, at completely the wrong angle. I surfaced, and my face stung like a mother. As the boat pulled back around, I heard my cousins shouting things like, "Dude, you totally flew on that one!" Then they saw me sort of bobbing pitifully and felt bad, and pulled me into the boat, even though I was perfectly capable of climbing back in.



"Does it hurt?" They asked, and as I looked up, a horrid gasp. "Oh my god, look at your face!!"



Thankfully all the photos had already been taken for this trip.



I will have so many pictures to post one I get back to the ATL.

###

So...tired...

###

FYI, I plan to update the sidebar of links eventually.

"Atlanta is a pit of despair"



Rachael and I had a quick, desperate flurry of e-mails this morning, each of us at our respective windowless places of employment; I in my cube, she in her not-much-bigger-than-my-cube office. The funny thing is that we work less than a half mile away from one another, so theoretically we could have met up to talk, or called each other, or something, but it's much easier to pretend like you're doing tons of work when the only sounds coming from your end of the hall is the tap-tap-tap of the keyboard.



Anyway, our flurry of e-mails basically revolved around the oppressiveness of Atlanta in August. Up north people get depressed in the winter, from lack of sunshine and such, but down here we all lose it around August 1, when the heat and humidity and smog alerts, present for days and weeks on end, mix perfectly to form a toxic poison that makes the body hurt, the sinuses ache, and the soul curl up and moan.



Our nasty driving turns nastier. We drive recklessly at highway speeds through bungalow neighborhoods, curse at one another, cut each other off with a wave of the finger.



Our speech gets whinier. We complain more. We try to cut the unhappiness with a morbid humor. A perfect example: the admin at work (one of my favorite people ever..she reminds me of my aunt) looked up at me when I came in this morning and said, "How was Alaska?"



"I almost didn't come back. Seriously. It was amazing. It was the most beautiful place I've ever been. I was so relaxed. My skin cleared up instantly. Juneau is the friendliest place on Earth. Everyone was so freakin' nice. I loved it. I want to go back. When the plane landed in Atlanta last night, and the pilot said, 'It's currently a steamy 93 degrees in Atlanta' the whole plane groaned."




She laughed and, with a wicked grin, said, "Welcome to Hell!"



Rachael's first e-mail said much the same thing: "Atlanta is a pit of despair."



Anyone who doesn't believe in global warming should spend an hour standing outside in downtown Atlanta. Hell, five minutes will do. The sweat forms instantly, but because the air is already saturated (but no chance of rain...it's just awful humidity) it has no where to go. It collects all over you, and runs down you, and ruins your hair. I don't know how Rachael and her like manage to ride a bicycle in this mess. It's all I can do to walk down the street. I guess she's just a tougher woman than me.



In case you can't tell, I'm super ultra grumpy.



I also really don't want to have to go to Michigan tomorrow. Oh, and I came home to a broken washing machine, so I've got to drop my clothes off at one of those wash-by-the-pound places tomorrow on my way to work so I'll have something remotely clean to wear the rest of the week. And I had to go sit in a board room for 3 freakin' hours today for some stupid marketing meeting crap that was neither here nor there.



Whine whine whine. I told you Atlanta in August does this to a person.

###

It's over?




I'm back in Atlanta. Wow. And it's 93 degrees outside. And my dad reminded me of a million and one things that need to be done before we leave Wednesday night. And I work tomorrow.




Why did I come back here again?

###

Hell yes, I'm in Alaska!



It's 50 degrees, foggy, and raining steadily. But I don't care! I'm in Alaska! And I'm having a great time!



I got a bout of nerves on the flight from Seattle yesterday afternoon. Oh god, I thought. I don't know ANYBODY up there. What if they don't come and get me from the airport? What if they hate me and are super mean to me? WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING???



But I had nothing to worry about. Everyone has been so nice to me. I got picked up from the airport as promised, and immediately whisked away to see the Mendenhall Glacier (beautiful!) and the salmon run (amazing!). I had a little time to relax before going to the rehearsal dinner and seeing my friend Ryan for the first time in about 5 years. I was nervous about that too--would anyone talk to me? But people did talk to me, and were very excited about my being here ("You're so brave to come all this way by yourself and not even know anyone!") and wanted to tell me all about the fabulous things to see here in Juneau.



At eleven last night I completely crashed...the four hour time difference meant my body had been up for nearly 24 hours at that point.



This morning I got up and walked downtown to see what I could see. And of course I saw an internet place, and of course I felt a sudden urge to check my e-mail and write an entry.



I'm trying to be good about taking pictures (you know that's not my strong point) so that I'll have some fabulous things to post to my flickr page once I get back.

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Addendum to Post 49




Looks like none of the extended family knows I'm getting a divorce! I got an e-mail today saying that my husband and I were welcome to x, y and z before the reunion. Hot damn! I can't think of a more fun way to spend a weekend in Michigan than explaining my marital status to a bunch of uptight, conservative Midwestern farm folk.

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Post 49: In which our heroine concludes she must be experiencing seperation anxiety



Um, why can't I get packed?



I've always been a last minute packer, though.



Yeah. You probably won't be hearing much out of me for the next few weeks, but I will have my cell with me if you need me.

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Post 48: In which our heroine is reminded that 'just one drink' is never, ever just one drink




Man, I am totally so on vacation in less than three days. Because of this, I knew I needed to get myself home after work to do laundry and buy some necessary provisions (ok, so the magnet sheets aren't for Trip 1: Bringing Sexy Back to Alaska, but Trip 2: Yoders Yoders Everywhere, which doesn't occur until next week, but I need to experiment with said magnet stickers and see if they actually work before my brain completely shuts down when I go not only OTP, but north of the Mason-Dixon line to boot.)




So, did I go home right away like a good little casetheplace?




Of course not. However, I did manage to extricate myself at quarter till eight, which is rather good for me.

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Post 47: Favoritest Exchange with a Bartender Ever





Me: (half a cocktail away from completely blotto)...speaking of Nebraska, Nebraska is the only state in the nation with an unicameral legislature. Every other state has a bicameral legislature. It's true. Look it up. I'm so smart. (pause) I'm really drunk.






Bartender: (amused) You know, words like "unicameral" don't exactly make guys hard.





Me: Yeah...it's true. I know how to make guys hard, but it's usually really boring. Politics is a lot better.

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At the stable

At the stable
Originally uploaded by casetheplace.

Just out of frame one of the trail guides lectures us on not letting our horses eat the foliage because it might make them sick. Meanwhile, the other trail guide zealously feeds a Kit Kat to her horse.

I say, Gimme a break!

Post 45, which is simply a photo



Ori leads, followed by J and myself.

Sexy Back



Justin Timberlake (aka My Dream Man) isn't the only one bringing sexy back. (I just watched the world premiere of the "Sexy Back" video and HOT DAMN! it was good. Timbaland's in it, too.)



Ori and J and I brought sexy back to the mountains this past weekend. The grandparents were out of town, so we had the place mostly to ourselves (my dad was around as well). Sunday we went horseback riding. I hadn't ridden in well over ten years, and Ori and J were total newbies. Thankfully they had a good time and weren't cursing my name by the end of the trail.



The Very Big and Important Event happened today at work, and everything went smoothly and without incident. Everyone is very happy that that is behind us. Now I can just kind of coast on through the next week until I bring sexy back to Alaska.

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