Vacation

The Man forced me to take a personal vacation day. It didn't have to be January 28th or anything, but why the heck not? Kids are in the lab, weekend's about to start, it'll do.

My vacation looks like this:
-Talk to the Payroll and Benefits lady. Fill out paperwork. Feel SO EXCITED.
-Set up my retirement plan. (Get ready for my giganto retirement party! June 2045!)
-Research dentists in Seattle. Recommendations? A plethora of magazines in the waiting room is my number one priority.
-Do laundry.
-Play tennis-ball with Solomon the Dog.*
-Try to fix the stink in my apartment. WHY IS THERE A STINK IN MY APARTMENT? Clean the litter box. Light candles. Continue to feel frustrated about the unchanged apartment stink.
-Go to the YMCA. Feel happy there's another Leonardo DiCaprio movie on channel 55. Elliptical to it.*
-Help boyfriend move into his fancy studio apartment.*
-Think about pho.
-Not actually go to pho.*
-Notice how perfectly my hair is flopping.
-Head up to B'ham for what is destined to be one of the Top 10 Weekends of '10 - snowboarding, free popcorn, dancing the night away, book club baby shower, sandwiches.

I'm living the dream, you guys.

*Predicted activity.

R.I.P., Mr. Salinger

But not in THAT much peace, because I hear J.D. Salinger was a jerk. Still, he wrote my favorite book - Franny and Zooey - and exemplified "voice" in writing. Angsty, over-privileged, 15-year-old boys around the United States will mourn the creator of their - yes, their very own, not anybody else's - Catcher in the Rye.

If it's true that he's been secretly writing for decades (the crotchety old man wouldn't share with anyone!) and that his works can be released now that he's croaked, well then color me p-u-m-p-e-d. Expect serious hermithood from me the week after his stuff is released. Hermithood and giggles.

Cheap cheap cheap

I am typing on an oldish, crappyish computer. That used to bother me. "It takes many minutes for you to load!" I'd holler at it. "I am afraid of downloading more music into your computer brain!" I'd scream. But now it's not so annoying, because my renter's insurance is going to be dang cheap.

I don't own much of monetary value, you see. It all adds up - a cat tree here, a lime green ski outfit there - but I'm confident that the collective value of my junk is much lower than my peers.

The most expensive things I own:
-This adorable computer desk: $150ish
-Used mattress and box spring: $120ish
-Precious, speedy bike: $300ish
-Oldish, crappyish computer: now worth... maybe $250?
-Pictures of me looking adoooorable: $100,000ish

My "accept things for free, buy things used" lifestyle is a bargain, and because of this, my renter's insurance is, too. If frugality was a person - Fru Gality, perhaps - I'd hug him for seconds and seconds and then a few seconds more.

The Daily Puppy suggests this week will be adorable.

What's a better combination than chocolate and peanut butter? Donkeys and puppies!

Dubai is a weird place.

Dubai just constructed the tallest building in the world. It's freaking high. It is just under 1/5 the height of Mt. Rainier.

YOU'RE STRANGE, DUBAI ARCHITECTS. YOU ARE WEIRDOS.

Here are other equally ridiculous things the bosses in Dubai could have done:
-Committed themselves to eating one hundred German chocolate cakes a day for twenty-two years.
-Hosted "1,000 people vs. 1,000 koala" race, and then let trillions of robot cockroaches loose to distract the 2,000 racers.
-Looked at NicUnCool for ten seconds straight
-Dug a 900-square-mile hole and filled it with black licorice flavored ice cream, and then topping it with chocolate-covered black licorice bits shaped like house keys and 3-ring binders.

But they didn't. They chose the giant building. I don't know what is going on over there.

Too many goals.

It was the first day of winter quarter. I was filing rubrics. I was setting goals for the quarter.

Goal #1: Be more organized.
Goal #2: Focus on one thing at a time.

But, haha! That doesn't work at all!

Scientists - make this your resolution.

Superman has Kryptonite. Pooh has honey. NicUnCool has Ricky Martin Van Buren Raden the cat. I have ice cream.

Ice cream, you are like... yourself. Your frozen, heavenly, fatty, delicious self. I hate you. And I love you. You make me want you, and then you stick in my fat cells forever. Even Zumba can't cancel you out, and Zumba is an easy to moderate workout, depending on the day.

Now I hear that scientists are working on a healthier ice cream. Don't be confused! It's not good for you, despite what that tricky headline makes you think. It's just less bad. Like how Nicole Richie is less bad than Paris Hilton. Both ice creams will destroy your body, and both NR and PH will destroy your soul.

Scientists, stop half-assing it and produce a frozen, heavenly, nutritious, delicious self. Eliminate "fatty" and other bad adjectives. Create my dream food, already.

2010 - A Year for Ice Cream Miracles