Sunday, September 26, 2010

I'm rocking the suburbs just like Michael Jackson did.

Ingredients for an A+ weekend:

knitting needles
$12.99 candles from Target
evening streets
sweet dance moves while walking down said streets
a cute grocer
sunflowers to me, from me
best friend
fair trade coffee
yoga pants
Judy Garland
a bottle of Ménage à Trois
Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray
Hobby Lobby
gummy worms
mini homemade spinach and cheese pizza
a Martha Stewart Living publication
autumn sunshine

Yeah. All of that happened. Awesome weekend.

I spent this awesome weekend doing these awesome things alone with the exception of a morning jog with the BFF. Because I live by myself, this is often the case. Given the fact that I work with 80 6th graders 5 of 7 days a week, this does not make me sad at all. I love being alone. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a loser or anti-social (most of the time), but I more often than not would rather be quiet, listen to music, and read. Although roommates have their perks, such as gossiping about TV characters as if they're our friends and contributing to the toilet paper supply, living alone is nice, too. It allows me to take sporadic naps and leave my yogurt container on the ground for as long as I want without the motivation that possible judgment brings. Most importantly, it allows much time for pointless thought. And so, here is a glimpse of the things I considered this weekend when I wasn't Facebooking you:

What's worse?
A finger in your can of soup.
A snake pops out of the toilet hole thingy while you're sitting on it.

Slippery banana peels. Cartoons and Mario Kart made me believe these were dangerous. Who is the originator of this idea? Even so, if I see one in the parking lot, I am going to warn you so as to prevent you from stepping on it, or running it over. Or maybe I won't, for 2 reasons: 1. To validate or nullify this theory. 2. People falling down is funny.

I mostly don't care what other people think of your status. If you were notified that I commented on it or liked it, and then you notice it's gone: it is.

How many girls REALLY care about football? And how many girls say they do to impress that boy they're dating/interested in? Ok, sure. We're old enough now to not be so easily influenced by that dreamboat. But, I also believe that if a girl is legitimately interested in this sport, this interest started in 5th grade when the boy she wanted to end up married to in MASH was wearing a Dallas Cowboys/Houston Oilers Starter jacket.

If you're not holding a stereo above your head John Cusack style, then no, darling. I will not marry you.

Remember that one time I wanted a puppy and I asked you guys to talk me out of it on Facebook? You completely failed. The only thing keeping my feet on the ground in regard to this topic is how much I'd rather buy that $50 fedora from Urban Outfitters and not spend it on chew toys and vet bills. Although, which is the better investment for snagging a super hot boyfriend? A fabulous wardrobe accessory, or the conversation-starting, adorable puppy that gets off of his leash and runs in the direction of the boy reading C.S. Lewis on the bench at the park down my street. I'll chase after him, cute boy will pet cute puppy, our eyes will meet, and we'll exchange witty banter until it gets dark. Psshhff, no. I haven't thought about this or watched too many romantic comedies.

IS this whole Joaquin Phoenix thing a prank? I was a semi-second away from renting Casey Affleck's documentary about him on iTunes last night, but then stopped myself when I thought about how pissed I'd be if I spent $7.00 to watch a publicity stunt. I also decided that regardless the fact or fiction of his new persona, the majority of me wants to punch him in the face and not spend time frustrated and uncomfortable witnessing a bearded douche bag attempt to rap. I opted for A Star is Born with Judy Garland instead. Which, unlike my choice to wear white and drink red wine with the knowledge of my consumption spill track record, proves that I mostly make excellent decisions.

I think I'm the only person in Texas not watching football today. Instead, I'm off to the coffee shop to read what I know will be absolutely enthralling 6th grade personal narratives about a memorable day. I think I'm going to see if this place is accepting applications so I can earn some extra cash and do research for my retirement plan. I am a full-time teacher and have a master's degree, and I'm still nervous they won't hire me. You guys be good to each other. Until next time. :) xoxo

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

I'm ringing all the warning bells...

What's better than a double nonfat latte, a fat piece of carrot cake, and Pandora Radio on the first day of autumn? That's right, hoes. Nothing at all.
I'm disgustingly happy right now. This time of year is perfect. I won't repeat myself in regard to my feelings on fall, but holy crap. It hasn't even fully begun, and my mood has already significantly improved. So, don't feel uncomfortable if I'm looking at you with a creepy smile. It's not you or your face. It's a cornucopia of joyful autumn thoughts. (You like that lameness? Blame my profession.)

You know what I hate? Listening to music and hearing a song from the past that makes you want to jump off of a bridge. That's dramatic. Perhaps eyeball gouging is more accurate. Or, not really. The point life has a soundtrack. Songs remind me of people, stages, events. Sometimes they remind me of things I don't want to remember. I try not to feel animosity towards anyone or anything for ruining a song for me, but it happens. Animosity, that is. Lucky for the general population my animosity isn't that dangerous or scary. But still, it exists. [Insert silent rage fist in the air gesture here.] I won't turn this post into an Alanis Morissette song. But darn you, song ruiners. Darn you.

You know what else I hate? Feeling awkward in front of my students. I say "crap" and "suck" a lot. They just roll off my tongue naturally when I'm telling a story, or explaining things in a kid-friendly, nontechnical way. I mean, it's a habit. They always look at each other with a smile and surprised eyes when I say things. I'm pretty sure these are bad words in 6th grade. Opinions on this? I usually just tell them to grow up. I've said "poopy" before, too. Poor children. Maybe I suck. Crap, I don't know.

I'm at a coffee shop pretending to be a college kid whilst I create PowerPoints for lesson plans. There's an open mic. People are brave, and I'll leave it there. I did get to hear a cover of The Decemberists and now Tracy Chapman. I specifically remember the first time I saw Tracy Chapman. It was a very controversial moment in my life. I studied my mom's CD case for the longest time trying to figure out the sex of the person in the white button-down shirt and braids. I don't know when I finally reached a conclusion, or if I ever did. Weird day to remember, but it's remembered. And I'll sing "Fast Car" every time it's on. And when I say sing, I mean quickly mumble lyrics I don't know at all. "laldkfjldkj got a fast car. dlfkjalkfj got a ticket to anywhere. aklkjdfkj make a decision. laksjfldkjf or live and die this way." That's what it's like. No need to thank me for the clarification. And did I really just blog about Tracy Chapman?

Ok, friends. Talk to you soon. Tosh in 9 days. ACL in 15. If I cussed much, I'd cuss. Like, real cuss words. I'm that excited. xoxo

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

...and so here we go, bluebird.

New music makes me the happiest person. When I listen to a new album, it's an intense thing. You'd be uncomfortable and bored if you joined me. Kind of like watching your grandma poop. (Too much? I'm sorry.)
Basically, I sit with a beverage, open the digital booklet, and play the entire thing from start to finish, reading the lyrics as I listen in total concentration. Then, I play it again and just listen. And then one more time as a background to other activities so as to measure the motivation it gives me to be a productive citizen. For example, in listening to Sara Bareilles' new album in my apartment today, I found myself actually considering folding the clean laundry that's been sitting on my couch for 3 days. Then, I drank more wine.

In other news, I had the quintessential sucky rain experience today. It started with a wet car seat. I have no idea how this seat became wet. Sometimes my car decides to allow water inside. You mean yours doesn't? So, of course, I see water, and still, proceed to sit on water. Thus, creating the ever-so-comfortable "swamp-ass" effect. Undoubtedly, on the day I get the butt of my gray dress wet, I'm starving and out of food so I must venture to the grocery store. That was fine. Except for the awkward way I always put entirely too much into the cute little shopping basket. I consistently choose to carry those regardless of how much I might get, because they're way more glamorous than pushing around what will most definitely be the loudest, crappiest buggy in the store. However, it never fails that I put so much into the little basket that I no longer look cute, but instead, like a total dork struggling to carry the over-stocked grocery basket with two hands. Today I actually had to stop and pick things up that were falling out of it while also carrying other miscellaneous items in my armpit region. (I hope you're enjoying the accurate visual of the wet assed girl picking Lean Cuisines up off the ground.) I obviously lose and will never meet my husband at a grocery store. Unless he's into retards.
I digress.
After I get my groceries bagged (in paper, of course, because it's hip to be green), I head to the door and realize it's pouring steadily. I make a run for it with my hands full. Duh. I insert Toms into the gigantic puddle resembling the parking lot and splash around a bit. Paper bag begins to tear. I stop to catch it and get rained on for a solid amount of time. I kick more water, make it to my car, and throw bags inside. One spills. It's cool. This just means I can more conveniently reach the grapes and eat them on the drive home.
In situations like this, I wish I were the onlooker and not the victim. But such is usually my life and I've gotten used to it. Follow me around and 9 times out of 10 you'll witness something embarrassing or stupid. You'll probably also get lost.

I have crap to look forward to, y'all.
1. I take my first ever ballet class on Monday, September 13th. This could be the greatest idea I've ever had, or a complete disaster. You will be informed. Either way, I'm psyched.
2. I'm going to see a cute boy with a cute boy (and a cute couple) on October 2. Daniel Tosh is incredibly offensive, but I can't help myself. I will laugh and feel guilty for doing so all at the same time.
3. I have literally been waiting 6 years to attend the Austin City Limits Music Festival. Six years being the amount of time I spent as a poor college kid, as opposed to a not-as-poor teacher. Jess and I had tickets one year and had to bail because hurricane Rita came to town and the roads were insane with evacuees. Now, 5 years later, I have a 3-day pass to what I assume will be the greatest weekend of my life. Not to mention, I'll be with some super cool girls. AND in the ATX. These things are excellent. Hurry, October 8th.
4. I'm going to freaking Alaska November 18-22. (I used declarative punctuation in what should be an exclamatory statement simply because exclamation points can be cheesy, and the last thing I need is a cheesy blog.) My sweet friend, Leslie, has been living there for a year now and I think it's about time I visit. She moved there because she felt like it. She's basically my hero. It'll be really cold. I have to go shopping. We have fun together. This is really a win win win. (Not to be confused with go, fight, win.)
5. I'm going to go ahead and say autumn is here. The weather doesn't quite reflect this yet, but it's in my heart. And because Starbucks is the ruler of all and they've brought back the pumpkin spice latte, I'd say move over, summer. Autumn in the house. Booya. (I don't know why I went there either.)
6. The knitting needles are out. First project: a blanket large enough to cover a small child. I'll post progress because I know things like that are of high-interest to the blogging community.

Alrighty...I'm off to reconsider the laundry thing. But instead I think I'll charge my iPod. Priorities. It's about that time of year to bust out my running shoes. I'm pretty awesome at talking myself out of it when I don't have my iPod so really I'm being proactive. I actually think running without music is impossible. Kind of like mornings without coffee. Simply pointless. I'm out :)

peace, love, and donut holes.