Um.
I moved.
Again...!
...Surprise!...?
I've been kind of nervous to unveil the Big Change, since I don't know how it will be taken. Some people, like Matt, I know didn't want me to move to Wordpress. And even as I write this, my last post in the webspace that kept me company over a Seriously Upsetting Time In My Life, it feels bittersweet. But it's like I said, I want--and maybe need--a big bloggy change. And besides, it's still the same blog! It's like I'm just picking the whole thing up and setting it down somewhere extremely similar!
I guess it's here that I say goodbye to Blogger and hello to the Brave New World of Wordpress. I hope you all continue to tune in over there--the shenanigans will be many and the mishaps will abound!
So please, please head over to the new home of Adventures in Blunderland and let me know what you think of the new place. I'll explain more about the reasons behind the move once we get there. Go! Go! See you there!
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
The Essence of Blunder
I really need to blog about two things that happened to me while I was at the mall with Matt yesterday that were just so ridiculously Blunderland. These two acts completely sum up my life and why I blog about it:
At White Barn Candle Company, I decided I desperately needed to sample their "Creamy Caramel" fragrance. I couldn't find a candle of that scent, so I grabbed an atomizer tester, sprayed it into the air, and thrust my face into the quickly dispersing perfume cloud.
It was essentially like spraying the fucking thing directly up my nose. Like a little inhaler for some sort of Dulce de Leche fiend, the microscopic, stickily sweet-smelling particles stung my eyes and clung to the tiniest hairs in my nostrils. Now, even this morning, nearly 8 hours later, everything still smells like a goddamn blondie.
Then, at Victoria's Secret Beauty (I know, I know, I'm a terrible girlfriend, first I make Matt go into Girlie Smells Central and now we're in Makeup Galore), I let the saleslady corral me into buying a new version of their "Very Sexy" mascara. She kept rambling about the brush and how she wanted to cut the brush off and let me have it, or something. It was totally weird and I eventually just stopped listening to her, as she had me at "mascara." I freakin' love mascara, like, more than I really need to. I had pretty much decided I was going to buy it as soon as my bat-like senses detected its existence. Anyway, I paid my $9.00 and went on my merry way.
When we were in the car I unwrapped it from the froofy little pink tissue (Why? Why so gentle with my beauty products?) to examine it breathlessly and possibly apply it to my eyelashes right there, by the light of the parking lot flood lamps. It was then that I realized I had bought the wrong color--brown instead of black. Again. AGAIN. This has happened to me countless times in the past with makeup. I foolishly assume that the testers and the actual sale items correspond LIKE THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO, and consequently, I don't bother to check to make sure that the lip gloss inside of the box I'm picking up is in fact the lovely shade of coral I tried on in the mirror as opposed to the HAZMAT orange color that my friends and I made fun of for 15 minutes.
Ladies and gentlemen, these things happen to me about 4 or 5 times a day. I consistently do things that would cause any normal human being to pause and think, Wait a second, self. Let's examine the social implications of shooting body spray square into your face. I 'm like a effing 4-year-old. No wonder I'm constantly verging on crisis.
***
By the way, the Big Bloggy Surprise is on its way! OH THE PANTS-CRAPPING ANTICIPATION.
At White Barn Candle Company, I decided I desperately needed to sample their "Creamy Caramel" fragrance. I couldn't find a candle of that scent, so I grabbed an atomizer tester, sprayed it into the air, and thrust my face into the quickly dispersing perfume cloud.
It was essentially like spraying the fucking thing directly up my nose. Like a little inhaler for some sort of Dulce de Leche fiend, the microscopic, stickily sweet-smelling particles stung my eyes and clung to the tiniest hairs in my nostrils. Now, even this morning, nearly 8 hours later, everything still smells like a goddamn blondie.
Then, at Victoria's Secret Beauty (I know, I know, I'm a terrible girlfriend, first I make Matt go into Girlie Smells Central and now we're in Makeup Galore), I let the saleslady corral me into buying a new version of their "Very Sexy" mascara. She kept rambling about the brush and how she wanted to cut the brush off and let me have it, or something. It was totally weird and I eventually just stopped listening to her, as she had me at "mascara." I freakin' love mascara, like, more than I really need to. I had pretty much decided I was going to buy it as soon as my bat-like senses detected its existence. Anyway, I paid my $9.00 and went on my merry way.
When we were in the car I unwrapped it from the froofy little pink tissue (Why? Why so gentle with my beauty products?) to examine it breathlessly and possibly apply it to my eyelashes right there, by the light of the parking lot flood lamps. It was then that I realized I had bought the wrong color--brown instead of black. Again. AGAIN. This has happened to me countless times in the past with makeup. I foolishly assume that the testers and the actual sale items correspond LIKE THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO, and consequently, I don't bother to check to make sure that the lip gloss inside of the box I'm picking up is in fact the lovely shade of coral I tried on in the mirror as opposed to the HAZMAT orange color that my friends and I made fun of for 15 minutes.
Ladies and gentlemen, these things happen to me about 4 or 5 times a day. I consistently do things that would cause any normal human being to pause and think, Wait a second, self. Let's examine the social implications of shooting body spray square into your face. I 'm like a effing 4-year-old. No wonder I'm constantly verging on crisis.
***
By the way, the Big Bloggy Surprise is on its way! OH THE PANTS-CRAPPING ANTICIPATION.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Poetry Monday, Batman Edition
The Dark Knight has recently inspired a fervent obsession with the Batman comics. After reading Batman: Year One, The Killing Joke, The Dark Knight Returns, The Man Who Laughed, The Long Halloween, and countless other comics/graphic novels, I'm now a veritable compendium of facts. Which may or may not be a good thing.
This is the dorkiest confession I've ever made on this blog: I think about Batman a lot. Could a hero like him really exist in an actual American city? Wouldn't people kind of just be freaked out by a dude in a bat costume lurking the streets at night? And who would pick up after all of his messes? You can't just explode three or four cars cause they happen to be parked nearby a place you're driving by in your crazy Army Tankmobile. Think of all the paperwork!
He's even infiltrated my poetry library. The other day I was contemplating my Poetry Monday options when I came across this cute, kind of silly little poem by Theodore Roethke. It's about the rational and irrational sides of fear, and I think it really unfolds into layers of meaning the more you read it. Enjoy:
The Bat
By day the bat is cousin to the mouse.
He likes the attic of an aging house.
His fingers make a hat about his head.
His pulse beat is so slow we think him dead.
He loops in crazy figures half the night
Among the trees that face the corner light.
But when he brushes up against a screen,
We are afraid of what our eyes have seen:
For something is amiss or out of place
When mice with wings can wear a human face.
***
B-t-dubs, did anyone else see the part during the Olympics last night where a girl from Zimbabwe broke a World Record in backstroke--and then they immediately showed Michael Phelps chilling out by the pool, lost in his iPod? It's like, Sorry lady, while you were breaking a world record, Phelpsy here was listening to Coldplay. That's what America thinks of YOU. I know all this stuff is filmed beforehand and it might not have been his real reaction, but come on, NBC! Let's get some better editing up in here!
Also, those Chinese gymnasts are SO NOT 16. They're total beasts, which sort of makes up for it, but it makes me kind of nervous to see an 8-year-old, standing at 3'2'', try to take on the vault. That thing's like, a foot taller than her. Yeesh.
This is the dorkiest confession I've ever made on this blog: I think about Batman a lot. Could a hero like him really exist in an actual American city? Wouldn't people kind of just be freaked out by a dude in a bat costume lurking the streets at night? And who would pick up after all of his messes? You can't just explode three or four cars cause they happen to be parked nearby a place you're driving by in your crazy Army Tankmobile. Think of all the paperwork!
He's even infiltrated my poetry library. The other day I was contemplating my Poetry Monday options when I came across this cute, kind of silly little poem by Theodore Roethke. It's about the rational and irrational sides of fear, and I think it really unfolds into layers of meaning the more you read it. Enjoy:
The Bat
By day the bat is cousin to the mouse.
He likes the attic of an aging house.
His fingers make a hat about his head.
His pulse beat is so slow we think him dead.
He loops in crazy figures half the night
Among the trees that face the corner light.
But when he brushes up against a screen,
We are afraid of what our eyes have seen:
For something is amiss or out of place
When mice with wings can wear a human face.
***
B-t-dubs, did anyone else see the part during the Olympics last night where a girl from Zimbabwe broke a World Record in backstroke--and then they immediately showed Michael Phelps chilling out by the pool, lost in his iPod? It's like, Sorry lady, while you were breaking a world record, Phelpsy here was listening to Coldplay. That's what America thinks of YOU. I know all this stuff is filmed beforehand and it might not have been his real reaction, but come on, NBC! Let's get some better editing up in here!
Also, those Chinese gymnasts are SO NOT 16. They're total beasts, which sort of makes up for it, but it makes me kind of nervous to see an 8-year-old, standing at 3'2'', try to take on the vault. That thing's like, a foot taller than her. Yeesh.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
the difference a year makes
Hi!
I'm back from vacation, which was totally awesome. We sunned. We swam. We played board games. I'm rested, tanned (or...er, browned would be a better descriptor for what happened to me, but that sounds way too much like a cooking term) and re-energized both in body and mind.
Ew, "re-energized in body and mind." Hello, my name is Melissa. Welcome to Gaiam Yoga's Morning Pilates Routine.
Well, however lame that sounds, it's true. Which is good, because there's something pretty big on the horizon.
Wtf... the horizon? Fingers, meet brain. Brain, fingers. Please cooperate! Or brain, try to think of less pansy-ass words all the time! I'm really New-Age-ing it up in here today.
I think the reason this is happening is that I'm trying to talk about something a little surrious today without making it sound like it's a Cake or Death situation. Cause it's not. I've just been doing some thinking about this coming year, and...
Maybe I should start over.
In the past week, a couple things have happened. Another housemate, Julie, moved in. I started getting emails from my professors for next semester, attached to which were detailed syllabuses (buses? bi? meh.) and book lists. I started work at HLC, a job that I'll probably be keeping through graduation. And finally, yesterday while Matt was buying Compy II at Staples, I replaced my 07-08 planner with an 08-09 one of the same brand.
Let me take a moment to detail the significance of this moment. I really, really, really like day planners. I'm a Time-Management Product Whore. If it helps you keep your schedule straight, I want it. Calendars, list, timetables, appointment books--they are my crack. And nothing makes me happier than completely filling out a day planner and needing to buy a new one. I put it off for weeks just to build anticipation. Then I buy one and fondle its unbroken binding and sniff the crisp new pages and act downright porny about it, to be quite honest. I try to do this in the privacy of my own home, but... okay, I lied, I never do this in the privacy of my own home. It's most likely in the checkout line, among the moms and their children (I know! Think of the children!) and aloof college students.
I think I just like the idea that I'm in total control of my days, weeks, and months if I can just remember to write it all down. This time around, though, there was something more to the General Excitement of having a new toy.
I'd really like this school year to be one of those Hit It Out of the Park, 4.0-GPA Both Semesters, Super-Uber-Achievement years. Last year was just so upsetting for me, in all arenas of my life--socially, academically, intrapersonally. I was afraid of everything--of working hard, of failing, of succeeding, of reaching out and connecting to people, of taking a good long look at myself, lest I find someone I didn't like. I've had a lot of time to think about what I did and how I could have been a better student, friend, and person in general, and I think I'm ready. I know I'm ready, because I want to try again.
Throwing on my planner from last year and starting this new one, I think, both lets me tangibly leave that school year behind and also allows me to celebrate. I've grown, I've learned. I'm starting 0ver but certainly not forgetting about where I came from. I sense a lot of changes on the horizon (fingers! bad!)--so I think this blog is going to need a big change, too.
Keep your eyes peeled for The Big Change sometime this week.
I'm back from vacation, which was totally awesome. We sunned. We swam. We played board games. I'm rested, tanned (or...er, browned would be a better descriptor for what happened to me, but that sounds way too much like a cooking term) and re-energized both in body and mind.
Ew, "re-energized in body and mind." Hello, my name is Melissa. Welcome to Gaiam Yoga's Morning Pilates Routine.
Well, however lame that sounds, it's true. Which is good, because there's something pretty big on the horizon.
Wtf... the horizon? Fingers, meet brain. Brain, fingers. Please cooperate! Or brain, try to think of less pansy-ass words all the time! I'm really New-Age-ing it up in here today.
I think the reason this is happening is that I'm trying to talk about something a little surrious today without making it sound like it's a Cake or Death situation. Cause it's not. I've just been doing some thinking about this coming year, and...
Maybe I should start over.
In the past week, a couple things have happened. Another housemate, Julie, moved in. I started getting emails from my professors for next semester, attached to which were detailed syllabuses (buses? bi? meh.) and book lists. I started work at HLC, a job that I'll probably be keeping through graduation. And finally, yesterday while Matt was buying Compy II at Staples, I replaced my 07-08 planner with an 08-09 one of the same brand.
Let me take a moment to detail the significance of this moment. I really, really, really like day planners. I'm a Time-Management Product Whore. If it helps you keep your schedule straight, I want it. Calendars, list, timetables, appointment books--they are my crack. And nothing makes me happier than completely filling out a day planner and needing to buy a new one. I put it off for weeks just to build anticipation. Then I buy one and fondle its unbroken binding and sniff the crisp new pages and act downright porny about it, to be quite honest. I try to do this in the privacy of my own home, but... okay, I lied, I never do this in the privacy of my own home. It's most likely in the checkout line, among the moms and their children (I know! Think of the children!) and aloof college students.
I think I just like the idea that I'm in total control of my days, weeks, and months if I can just remember to write it all down. This time around, though, there was something more to the General Excitement of having a new toy.
I'd really like this school year to be one of those Hit It Out of the Park, 4.0-GPA Both Semesters, Super-Uber-Achievement years. Last year was just so upsetting for me, in all arenas of my life--socially, academically, intrapersonally. I was afraid of everything--of working hard, of failing, of succeeding, of reaching out and connecting to people, of taking a good long look at myself, lest I find someone I didn't like. I've had a lot of time to think about what I did and how I could have been a better student, friend, and person in general, and I think I'm ready. I know I'm ready, because I want to try again.
Throwing on my planner from last year and starting this new one, I think, both lets me tangibly leave that school year behind and also allows me to celebrate. I've grown, I've learned. I'm starting 0ver but certainly not forgetting about where I came from. I sense a lot of changes on the horizon (fingers! bad!)--so I think this blog is going to need a big change, too.
Keep your eyes peeled for The Big Change sometime this week.
Friday, July 25, 2008
whatever it TAKES!
A list, hastily thrown together so as to not cause the author of this blog to miss the new episode of Degrassi. Ellie and Marco kiss. THEY KISS!
- HLC, as if summoned, called me the other day to inform me that they're finally making good on their promise of active employment. I start my regular schedule on August 4th. OR SO THEY SAY.
- The reason I have to wait until August 4th to start is because until then, I'm gonna be in sunny Myrtle Beach with my best friend Lindsay! Ohandalsomyparentsandsisterandherfriend. We leave tomorrow and will be there for a week, so expect a 16-day hiatus. Oh uhhhhhhhhh, I mean. Blog posts will resume immediately upon my arrival back in New Jersey. Ahem.
- The most exciting aspect of the trip, for me? The kick-ass books I'm bringing along. They're currently stacked in a beach bag, waiting to be devoured poolside: When You Are Engulfed In Flames David Sedaris, Candy Girl by Diablo Cody, Snuff by Chuck Palahniuk (!!!), aaaaaand Bright Lights, Big Ass, Jen Lancaster. WOOOOOO HOOOOOO!!!
Thursday, July 24, 2008
a fool in love
I rarely have the words to describe what it's like being in love with Matt. I am often hesitant to talk about it, for fear of... what? Driving readers away? Alienating myself from those who are in a bad place, relationship-wise, and don't need to hear my starry-eyed blather? But I figure--it's my blog, it's my life. And I'm feeling introspective tonight. Very introspective.
The point is, tonight I discovered an old journal from the months immediately before I met Matt, most of the entries unremarkable, written in my trademark (and kind of dumb) poetry-prose form. The chief subject matter is my confusion as to why I'd never had a serious boyfriend, ridiculous odes to brief crushes long forgotten. I was prepared to sample some of the quotes here so we could all have a good laugh at my expense.
But then I found this at the end, the very last entry in the journal, written on September 9th, 2007, several months after most of the rest of the entries. And I figured, tonight's as good a night as any to post it, as it is, a tribute to this relationship, to my Matthew, who certainly deserves one.
***
9/10/07
(Journals
are such
a good idea)
What's different?
Matt.
Matthew.
The one who came in from left field
(self-fulfilling prophecy?)
and stole the show,
turned my world
around,
who upturned
all of my conclusions
and expectations
about relationships.
My first love?
I think so.
Do I have an answer
for the question of why
I needed to be
destitute
in the relationship arena
of my life
for 20 years before this?
I do not.
But I do know
that this is more
than I could
have ever
anticipated
and that
when I see
him it is like
looking in a mirror,
and that when
we are together,
the world falls
away.
I have cared
for very few people
the way I care
about him.
It's been
almost four months and
maybe it's too soon
to be jumping to all
sorts of grand conclusions,
but at some point
I decided,
if this isn't love,
this ache to be near him,
this magnetic field
between us that
stretches across the state
and across a room,
this bond
that we have crafted
in so small a space,
so short a time frame--
then what is?
Maybe one day
I'll read this
and face-palm
and think,
You were so naive.
But for now,
it is wonderful,
and he is
wonderful,
and things
are going
swimmingly,
if I may
say so myself.
<3
***
I'm not ashamed to say that I still feel all those things today, 10 months later. But maybe even to say these things a year and two months into this whole affair is being a bit rash. Maybe I really have no idea what we're in for. Maybe I'm a fool, but I am a fool in love, and that's the best kind to be.
The point is, tonight I discovered an old journal from the months immediately before I met Matt, most of the entries unremarkable, written in my trademark (and kind of dumb) poetry-prose form. The chief subject matter is my confusion as to why I'd never had a serious boyfriend, ridiculous odes to brief crushes long forgotten. I was prepared to sample some of the quotes here so we could all have a good laugh at my expense.
But then I found this at the end, the very last entry in the journal, written on September 9th, 2007, several months after most of the rest of the entries. And I figured, tonight's as good a night as any to post it, as it is, a tribute to this relationship, to my Matthew, who certainly deserves one.
***
9/10/07
(Journals
are such
a good idea)
What's different?
Matt.
Matthew.
The one who came in from left field
(self-fulfilling prophecy?)
and stole the show,
turned my world
around,
who upturned
all of my conclusions
and expectations
about relationships.
My first love?
I think so.
Do I have an answer
for the question of why
I needed to be
destitute
in the relationship arena
of my life
for 20 years before this?
I do not.
But I do know
that this is more
than I could
have ever
anticipated
and that
when I see
him it is like
looking in a mirror,
and that when
we are together,
the world falls
away.
I have cared
for very few people
the way I care
about him.
It's been
almost four months and
maybe it's too soon
to be jumping to all
sorts of grand conclusions,
but at some point
I decided,
if this isn't love,
this ache to be near him,
this magnetic field
between us that
stretches across the state
and across a room,
this bond
that we have crafted
in so small a space,
so short a time frame--
then what is?
Maybe one day
I'll read this
and face-palm
and think,
You were so naive.
But for now,
it is wonderful,
and he is
wonderful,
and things
are going
swimmingly,
if I may
say so myself.
<3
***
I'm not ashamed to say that I still feel all those things today, 10 months later. But maybe even to say these things a year and two months into this whole affair is being a bit rash. Maybe I really have no idea what we're in for. Maybe I'm a fool, but I am a fool in love, and that's the best kind to be.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
the idle summer
Here's the situation: HLC clearly overhired. Because I've been in for work 4 times in the past month, and just last week they called me to let me know that I would be working on an appointment-only basis. I haven't heard a word from them in a week and a half or so.
Which probably begs the question: Melissa, what the hell do you do all day? It's a good question. And I have answers, O my friends. I have answers.
My daily activities can be categorized as follows:
a) Housework. Since my roommate goes to work from about 9:30 in the morning til about 7 in the evening, I delegated the household tasks to myself. I wash breakfast dishes (and the dishes I use myself throughout the day) and wipe down the countertops. I sweep the floors and empty the fridge of Forgotten Produce. I collect trash from around the house at least three times a week. My recycling sorting skillz are second to none. I'm like Cinderella, only I want to do it. Not that Debbie doesn't do just as much cleaning as me--last week, while I was down the shore with Matt, she cleaned both bathrooms in their entirety and cleaned the kitchen sink, surfaces, and stove. I, uh. I mopped the floors later. I also tidy my own room as much as I see fit. I'm still a little scared to sweep deep into the corners, for fear of, you know, the bloodsucking centipedes. Bleghhh.
b) Food preparation/consumption. Food has long been my defense against boredom. When I was younger, I would simply snack on such wholesome fare as Doritos and Toaster Strudel until my belly became unnaturally round and distended. Nowadays, I cook or bake, and then snack on whatever I just made until my belly becomes unnaturally round and distended. Recently, though, I've been averse to using the stove in my kitchen, as it is BALLS-hot in my house and the addition of an open flame doesn't really help.
Then there's mealtimes, which add built-in structure to an otherwise completely unstructured day. Additionally, mealtime is still remarkably social, being the only time that Matt, Debbie, and I all hang out together. It's kind of nice, being a sort of Three's Company unit, only the boy doesn't live with us, and we don't know each other as well. The other night the three of us went on a diner excursion after I' d had a couple of glasses of white wine, and lo, there were shenanigans. And waffles.
c) QVC-Watching. We opted for basic cable as long as only Debbie and I are going to be here (when my other two housemates move in we'll probably upgrade), and while I see the practicality of such a decision, I really miss MTV and Bravo and Comedy Central and oh! The humanity!! What I do to compensate is watch QVC. All. Day. Long. People? It is an untapped source of constant entertainment, from the completely futility of most of the products, to the bleached smiles of the hosts, down to (my favorite!) the evangelically loyal, rambling callers. Seriously, tune in sometime--don't be discouraged if it seems boring for the first 3 minutes or so. Just hang tight for a good 10 minutes and you will not be disappointed. You're welcome.
d) General Futz-Abouting. You know how it is. Multiple visits to icanhascheezburger.com in an hour. Refreshing your Google Reader about 150 times in 5 minutes. Browsing Etsy (for items that you will buy with what money, exactly?). Rearranging your picture frames, only to replace them all in their original locations anyway. Organizing your shoes by type and color. Lint-rollering all the surfaces in your room. Giving yourself a full face of makeup (because I'm worth it?), then wiping it all off
A few activities I've thrown into the mix that are particular to me: downloading and reading no less than four Batman comic series. Watching Silence of the Lambs for no reason whatsoever, then downloading Red Dragon (it's almost done!). Contemplating my plan of action should the Zombie Apocalypse suddenly occur (escape to roof via the fire escape ladder from the apartment upstairs). Note to self: purchase wood axe.
***
So there you have it. The minutia of The Idle Summer. Sometimes Matt comes over and we do all of the above together. It's turning out to be alright--it's just that I had foreseen so much more paid work. I guess something's brewing. There's always a calm before the storm, isn't there?
Whoa.
Whoa. I just heard a massive crack of thunder as I typed that sentence. I'm totally freaking myself out right now. I need to go breathe into a paper bag for a bit. Or just make myself up for a prom, maybe.
Which probably begs the question: Melissa, what the hell do you do all day? It's a good question. And I have answers, O my friends. I have answers.
My daily activities can be categorized as follows:
a) Housework. Since my roommate goes to work from about 9:30 in the morning til about 7 in the evening, I delegated the household tasks to myself. I wash breakfast dishes (and the dishes I use myself throughout the day) and wipe down the countertops. I sweep the floors and empty the fridge of Forgotten Produce. I collect trash from around the house at least three times a week. My recycling sorting skillz are second to none. I'm like Cinderella, only I want to do it. Not that Debbie doesn't do just as much cleaning as me--last week, while I was down the shore with Matt, she cleaned both bathrooms in their entirety and cleaned the kitchen sink, surfaces, and stove. I, uh. I mopped the floors later. I also tidy my own room as much as I see fit. I'm still a little scared to sweep deep into the corners, for fear of, you know, the bloodsucking centipedes. Bleghhh.
b) Food preparation/consumption. Food has long been my defense against boredom. When I was younger, I would simply snack on such wholesome fare as Doritos and Toaster Strudel until my belly became unnaturally round and distended. Nowadays, I cook or bake, and then snack on whatever I just made until my belly becomes unnaturally round and distended. Recently, though, I've been averse to using the stove in my kitchen, as it is BALLS-hot in my house and the addition of an open flame doesn't really help.
Then there's mealtimes, which add built-in structure to an otherwise completely unstructured day. Additionally, mealtime is still remarkably social, being the only time that Matt, Debbie, and I all hang out together. It's kind of nice, being a sort of Three's Company unit, only the boy doesn't live with us, and we don't know each other as well. The other night the three of us went on a diner excursion after I' d had a couple of glasses of white wine, and lo, there were shenanigans. And waffles.
c) QVC-Watching. We opted for basic cable as long as only Debbie and I are going to be here (when my other two housemates move in we'll probably upgrade), and while I see the practicality of such a decision, I really miss MTV and Bravo and Comedy Central and oh! The humanity!! What I do to compensate is watch QVC. All. Day. Long. People? It is an untapped source of constant entertainment, from the completely futility of most of the products, to the bleached smiles of the hosts, down to (my favorite!) the evangelically loyal, rambling callers. Seriously, tune in sometime--don't be discouraged if it seems boring for the first 3 minutes or so. Just hang tight for a good 10 minutes and you will not be disappointed. You're welcome.
d) General Futz-Abouting. You know how it is. Multiple visits to icanhascheezburger.com in an hour. Refreshing your Google Reader about 150 times in 5 minutes. Browsing Etsy (for items that you will buy with what money, exactly?). Rearranging your picture frames, only to replace them all in their original locations anyway. Organizing your shoes by type and color. Lint-rollering all the surfaces in your room. Giving yourself a full face of makeup (because I'm worth it?), then wiping it all off
A few activities I've thrown into the mix that are particular to me: downloading and reading no less than four Batman comic series. Watching Silence of the Lambs for no reason whatsoever, then downloading Red Dragon (it's almost done!). Contemplating my plan of action should the Zombie Apocalypse suddenly occur (escape to roof via the fire escape ladder from the apartment upstairs). Note to self: purchase wood axe.
***
So there you have it. The minutia of The Idle Summer. Sometimes Matt comes over and we do all of the above together. It's turning out to be alright--it's just that I had foreseen so much more paid work. I guess something's brewing. There's always a calm before the storm, isn't there?
Whoa.
Whoa. I just heard a massive crack of thunder as I typed that sentence. I'm totally freaking myself out right now. I need to go breathe into a paper bag for a bit. Or just make myself up for a prom, maybe.
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