2015: A Year in Review.

Let's take an adjudicated journey back through the year that just passed in the blink of an eye, shall we?

January

January would be the beginning of what would end up being probably the most insane and arduous six months of my life. Was I fleeing a war torn country with an oppressive political regime and seeking asylum in a foreign society that misunderstood my history and culture? No. Was I on an airplane that crash landed on a mysterious island with strange magical powers and smoke monsters and despotic inhabitants trying to murder me and my fellow crash survivors? No. Did I awaken in the aftermath of a biological apocalypse with no discernible hope of survival beyond fighting off hordes of undead meat sacks with unquenchable bloodlust? No.

But was I facing my final year of doctoral coursework, culminating in the writing and defending of a dissertation prospectus, teaching two sections of a general music class, taking both Spanish and French courses simultaneously, working Office Job 1, taking my written and oral doctoral qualifying exams, and planning my wedding all at the same time? YES.

I made this! Quizza Edition.

Guys! I did this thing, and you should, too. Unless you're watching your calories or something. But actually, even then, you should still do this because

and we all have to die sometime. Yikes, how morbid. Scratch that. You should do it anyway because it is freaking delicious and easy and you're allowed to do things like this in moderation, OKAY?

Okay.

I'll have a Blue Christmas.

A Bluegrass Christmas. 

I took photos to document everything, because it's only true if it's on the Internet!

This was the first Christmas I've ever spent away from my family. It was something I debated in my head and thought about for a long time all through the late summer and fall months. But, at the end of the day, it just seemed more financially responsible to save up our money this December, especially since we will be doing some traveling (including seeing my family!) in the summer. Do you know how much it costs to fly home to see your family in California these days, especially when you also have to fly with your little adorable ewok puppy as well, which adds nearly another $300 to your travel costs? About as much as a new mattress, that's what. (Joke callback.) And due to the nature of his job, we never know what Professor Schmoobs's holiday schedule is going to be like until fairly close to the holiday, and, by then, all the ticket prices have skyrocketed to oblivion. (BELATED FESTIVUS GRIEVANCE.)

So Professor Schmooblebottoms and I stayed at home this Christmas. I fully expected to cry a little, not going to lie. And, yes, there was some undertone of melancholy throughout the holiday. But, honestly, once you become an adult, doesn't every holiday season kind of feel a little melancholy anyway? It's not just me, is it? I don't need to go on Zoloft, do I? Maybe just more donuts? Some Vitamin D-onuts?

Anyway, I knew I had to find a way to find joy and peace in the holiday celebration and not turn it into some sad, depressing, tear-soaked Lifetime movie. And we did!

Existential ponderings. An ongoing series.

Question: What the hell?

Specifically: What the hell am I doing with my life? One minute, I'm in my twenties going to graduate school to pursue my love for music. The next, I'm in my mid-thirties working towards a Ph.D. that has a highly debatable degree of consequence to this universe. 

I mean, at least when I was a performer I could offer the justification that I was contributing to society by sharing the gift of music. Now? Working on a dissertation whose topic is probably only marginally interesting to myself, my advisor, and possibly four other people on the planet? And (TRUTH BOMB) what if I sometimes don't always fully totally completely care about my dissertation topic? I mean, it's interesting and I have a brain crush on it. And today I may be apathetic whereas tomorrow I will be obsessed again. But will it cure cancer or end homelessness? And assuming we have a hairless puppy or two someday before my uterus completely turns into Tatooine Jakku, will my work even matter to their world? How much of my life do I want to spend gazing into the dark lifeless abyss that is my navel? Am I the World's Worst Doctoral Student?

DO NOT ANSWER THAT QUESTION.

The doctorate was a goal that I set for myself over a decade ago, and it's a difficult thing to not see a personal goal like this through. Especially when it has been a longer road than I first anticipated, as we traversed through different moves, miscellaneous job changes, and other such life turns that delayed the process. So I see it through. I go along and I make baby steps towards the finish line and I tell myself that it will all be worth it in the end. But, in the meantime, I'm not teaching, I'm not making music, I'm not earning a salary, and I'm working menial office jobs that pay a menial hourly wage because there are still bills to pay and life still costs money and apparently nobody wants to hire an intelligent and skilled clarinet-playing musicologist-in-training who has experiencing working ALL THE JOBS and can also make an awesome quiche, and this is nobody's fault but my own, really, so I should stop whining. 

But it's my emo party and I'll whine if I want to.

This all would be so much easier to stomach if I were younger and the prospect of devoting years of your life to a higher (education) calling still seems noble and righteous and any foreseeable ramifications are but a blip on the horizon. Well, now I'm tottering over the precipice of middle age (and not even the fun Monty Python Knights Who Say Ni kind of Middle Age) and it's not really so carefree anymore. 

I suppose at the end of the day this is just a struggle about feeling purposeful and significant.

What am I doing in this world? What am I doing for the world? (Besides making awesome quiches.)

I wonder what the next year will bring. Hopefully a checkered flag and the start of a new chapter. So to speak.

Merry Blogmas 2015: Day Twenty-Four and TWENTY-FIVE!

Merry Christmas to everyone who's not reading this blahg because nobody is reading this blahg because nobody knows I'm writing this blahg!

Christmas post coming up. Although we did not fly home to California this year, it has been a wonderful holiday so far. I mean, I haven't even cried once, which I totally thought I was going to do today. Well, I almost did when my dear mother called the other day to say she would miss us. But I was at work when she called and I couldn't let anyone at the office think I had feelings. Professional decorum and such. And unreasonable crying is only publicly acceptable during the week before Woman Time and if Sarah MacLachlan is talking to you about orphan puppies.

Anyway.

Merry Christmas!

Look at Pumpkin BB-8's poor misshapen crumbling head. If you could zoom in close enough, you'd see that he is starting to grow mold. Sorry, BB-8, I really needed you to stay with me through the Force Awakens premiere and Christmas because I am psychotic. "Beep boop beep." - BB-8 probably (which means "It's okay.")

Merry Blogmas 2015: Day Twenty-Three

In today's Daily WTF: My dream last night was that I had some sort of growth or abscess on the roof of my mouth (GROSS), and when I reached in there to pop it with my fingers, pesto sauce came out.

WHAT THE EFF.

Also, a Happy Festivus to the rest of us.

I GOT A LOT OF PROBLEMS WITH YOU PEOPLE!

My grievance is that I had to be at work on campus today at 8:30 in the morning for Office Job 2 even though classes closed last week. Harumph. But I just have to survive this eight hour workday and then my vacation officially begins! 

Merry Blogmas 2015: Day Twenty, Twenty-One...and Twenty-Two!

Jeebus, I'm really starting to fall apart here.

Well, here's what has happened today: I've spent the last three hours sitting at my desk for Office Job 2, where it is so excruciatingly slow because everybody has gone home for the holidays and the campus is closed, that I've been doing data entry work for Office Job 1.

And I just realized that everything I've done for the past three hours has been for the WRONG FREAKING SEMESTER AND I HAVE TO START OVER.

I think that's my cue to leave my desk for a few minutes and go scream silently into a cup of Star*ucks. And probably a chocolate chip cookie.

***

ETA: OH YOU THINK YOU CAN BE CLOSED STUDENT CENTER STAR*UCKS JUST BECAUSE ALL YOUR STUDENT EMPLOYEES HAVE LEFT CAMPUS?! WELL, SOME OF US STILL HAVE MENIAL OFFICE JOBS TO DO IN ORDER TO COLLECT OUR HARD-EARNED PENNIES, YOU KNOW! Blargh.

I need to take some deep breaths and think happy Star Wars thoughts. 

Merry Blogmas 2015: Day Eighteen and Nineteen

Sorry not sorry for missing yesterday's blahg post (and pretty much today's as well). I was busy watching a certain film:

SO MANY PREVIEWS.

Eeeeeeeeeep!

Long story short, the movie was FREAKING AWESOME OH MY GOD I LOVED IT YAY YAY LET US NEVER SPEAK OF THE LAME ASS PREQUELS EVER AGAIN.

Merry Blogmas 2015: Day Seventeen

Happy Star Wars: The Force Awakens opening day, everybody! And--because how could it not be this way?--I have to wait to watch it until tomorrow because Professor Schmoobles is out of town at a National Nerd Convention until tomorrow.

On the plus side, strategic stalking of a flash sale site, a gift card that has been in my wallet awaiting use for an entire year, and a deal on free shipping resulted in this:

I'm going to need a moment. 

Merry Blogmas 2015: Day Sixteen

I survived the World's Slowest Work Day of the year. Eight hours at a desk when the sum total of actual office work tasks only took a cumulative thirty seconds. I guess that's what happens when it's finals week at the University and the only thing going on at work are Butcracker rehearsals.

Things I managed to accomplish:

• Arts and Crafts Hour (Sketching out Christmas ornaments for the family)
• Finished Christmas cards. Complete with adorable little poofy holiday stickers to seal the envelopes. Which were then pointed out by the post office lady that they would pop off and get destroyed when they went through their machine. Well, bah humbug. 
• Designed a University logo just for gigs and shittles. And also because BOREDOM.

Merry Blogmas 2015: Day Fifteen

Me: "Anything exciting this morning?"

Bossman: "No...this is usually the slowest week of the whole year."

That was my day. 

On the bright side, I got the bulk of my Christmas cards done while sitting at work. Tomorrow: more cards, and working on some gift ideas. The week before Christmas is the perfect time to start doing cards and gifts, right? 

Merry Blogmas 2015: Day Fourteen

Quick one today. Apologies. We've got a Professor Schmooblebottoms work dinner to go to shortly. I will say this, though, we went to Costco (woot woot!) on our way home today to pick up some coffee, creamer, and paper towels (...and fancy delicious popcorn, phone chargers, tomatoes, cheese, crackers, eggs, and butter...oops) and I made the mistake of trying on some eyeglasses. According to the mirror, my makeup application was such that of a Ringling Brothers circus clown. I think I should just give up trying to adult like a normal thirty-year old woman.

Anyway.

I made a juice of carrots, celery, kale, apple, cilantro, and lemon. I have to balance out all the candy and assorted fried things I like to abuse my body with.

And I started a little Christmas project para mi familia. I'll show the finished product when it is all complete.

Merry Blogmas 2015: Day Thirteen

Guys. I'm actually getting my clarinet chops back again. I think, anyway. I need to challenge myself to get back out there and have other humans listen to my playing again. Also, practicing is totally working my ab and face muscles, I'm pretty sure! Whoa. Like, whoa. Did I just discover the secret to ageless beauty? Is it playing clarinet?

In other news, I saw this while doing some shopping today:

Isn't she beautiful? Does her beauty not belong in my kitchen? I audibly gasped, and if I wore pearls, I would have clutched them at that moment. I guess this is a thing that happens in your thirties? You start to have visceral lust for gorgeous copper cookware? Anyway, it's two hundred dollars. So I guess this picture will have to do.

Merry Blogmas 2015: Day Twelve

Almost forgot to post today! Because I've been too busy cocooning and making stupid videos like this:

Also, I went to a friend's little get together last night. The purpose was to watch "Home Alone" while eating forbidden (I'm dairy allergic. Mildly. Like, I'll justify it if I want to. Even while moaning in a fetal position for the next 24-48 hours.) cheese pizza and Pepsi. And booze. The only stipulation was that we had to wear pajamas. Except I don't really have any pajamas pajamas. So I showed up wearing Professor Schmooblins's Halloween costume...which was a Chewbacca onesie. You know it'll be a good night when you are a mid-thirties married woman walking down the sidewalk alone wearing a Wookiee onesie and carrying a bottle of wine.

Merry Blogmas 2015: Day Eleven

Woke up at 5am this morning to take Professor Schmooblins to the airport, as he is spending the weekend working with a Nerd Corps. I had these grand delusions of actually coming home after dropping him off, and starting on with my productive work day. But, in actuality, I "accidentally" *cough* missed the turn to our street so I just went ahead and said to myself: "Self. What the hell? Let's have breakfast." so I drove two blocks down to McDonald's for a McGriddle. After I scarfed that down, I guzzled some coffee, watched an episode of something on the DVR that I can't even remember right now because my brain doesn't work at FIVE IN THE FREAKING MORNING, and then went back to sleep.

But the whole purpose of saying all this was to lead into this: After I fell back asleep, I dreamt that BB was licking a spot on her hind quarters so much that she got a raw spot, and, while trying to hold her to put some ointment on it, she ran off, and found a hidden spot (which doesn't exist in real life) in our guest bathroom downstairs that led outside. So I freaked out and ran out the front door to get her, only to see that there was a giant black R.O.U.S. outside with one of BB's squeaky balls in its mouth! Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw BB walking towards it, so I ran to go rescue her and try to get back inside, but the R.O.U.S. was totally hissing and threatening to eat my face. I think I woke up before we got back inside the house. BUT THEN I also dreamt that I then started to tell somebody else this dream that I had, but this version of my re-telling involved me in a princess hat (What the hell is a princess hat?) and thinking, "I'm totally going to write a Facebook post about this."

What the eff. FACEBOOK INCEPTION DREAM! Maybe I should lay off the enchiladas and mole sauce for dinner before bedtime.

Also, I got the prospectus comments back from my New Committee Member. I seriously broke out in a sweat and started getting mild arrhythmia when I got the emails. But the comments were actually great and she gave me some very good advice about other resources I should look into. (None in English. Womp womp. Time to get back on the Duolingo train.) Hooray! Progress! 

Merry Blogmas 2015: Day Ten

PLEASE look at how adorable little miss BB looks after her salon appointment yesterday:

Heartsplosion.

In dissertation news, I got a message from a new member of my graduate committee yesterday asking for access to my prospectus, which I had sent her recently, so that she can make comments and annotations. GULP. I know it's their job, but also things like that make my bowels quiver.

Also, that moment when your right hand is off by one space and it takes you four lines of typing to realize it:

I'm sure this means something in Klingon.

Merry Blogmas 2015: Day Nine (A Day in the Life)

6:30am: Alarm 1. I dreamt last night that I went to use one of the public little disgruntled musicology grad student's rooms in the Fine Arts Building and not only was the toilet water red (but not like ladytime blood, more like...Kool Aid? I don't know. Dreams are weird, mkay?) but that I was in there BAREFOOT. What in high holy hell? Good thing I eventually woke up. Anyway. Snooze.

7:00am: Alarm 2. Nope. Not ready yet. Snooze.

7:14am: Paranoia kicks in. Check my phone clock. Phew. I still have a few minutes before I realllly have to start getting ready. Check email. Check Facebook. Back to sleep.

7:20am: Okay. Phew, still a few minutes more. Check email. Check Facebook.

7:30am: Alarm 3. UGH. Get up. Turn on space heater in bathroom. Put on eyeballs (contact lenses). Turn on podcast. Brush teeth. Get in shower. Get out of shower. Choose work outfit. This is how my usual process of figuring out what to wear goes:

1. Ooh, I like this blue sweater. I'll wear this today. 
2. Ooh, I like these long, fuzzy, gray, thigh length socks. I'll wear those today. That way I don't have to wear tights or long johns to stay warm.
3. Oh, but then that means I can't wear sandals or open toed shoes. Don't I have a pair of brown boots that have heels?
4. Huh. I don't have a pair of brown boots that have heels. Okay, I guess I'll just wear these brown heeled loafers then.
5. So then I have to wear a pair of brown slacks that are long enough to cover my fuzzy gray socks. These? No, too short.
6. These? No, too short.
7. These? I guess they'll do. I haven't worn these slacks in years. Are they even still fashionable? If I wear them to campus will the twenty-something yutes of America silently judge me for wearing dated pants? I seriously am at that age now where I can't tell if something that looks fine to me looks dated to the younger generation. Yikes. Help.
8. Whatever. I don't care. You don't know me! I'm wearing these pants.

8:00am: Throw my hair into a ponytail and put on minimal makeup. Guys. I totally tried to do the grown up full makeup thing for a couple of weeks. Like, if I had an hour to devote to had the desire to spend an hour making myself look presentable every morning, maybe I would actually get in the habit of doing so on the reg. But, in reality: Uuuugh, it takes so long and I just want to be done alreadyyy. Also, a full face of makeup makes me feel kind of gross after a couple of hours. Probably just because I'm not used to it. And then you can't rub your face one your sleeve or somebody else's clothes or else your entire face will come off on it like the miraculous Shroud of Turin. And then you have to spend like an extra ten minutes at night just scrubbing and jackhammering your pretty face off before bed. Bleargh. Anyway, I do like how it looks if I do it right, but maybe I'll just save it for special occasions. Today: concealer, blush, eyebrows, eyeliner.

8:14am: Out the door, and not too late! Well, too late to go to the Dunkin' Donuts drive through (damnit), but not too late to get to work on time. Hopefully. Oops, also realized that I forgot the eyeliner. Oh well.

8:26am: Get to campus. Look for parking in lot closest to Office Job 2. Nope.

8:28am: Look for parking in lot number 2. Nope.

8:29am: Look for parking in lot number 3. Nope.

8:30am: Look for parking in lot number 4. Success.

8:33am: Get to Office Job 2. Only three minutes late. Bossman is already here. Meh. No big whoop!

8:46am: Time for a coffee break. That's how we roll. Go next door to the student center and find myself awkwardly walking in with and standing in line directly behind two members of the woodwind faculty. Awkward because one of them has had a habit of berating me for replacing my clarinets for musicology books. He once introduced me to somebody this way: "This is Acadaemia Nut. She used to be a musician." UGH. Tool. But at least we managed to engage in polite pleasantries and slight conversation without me having to bust out my evil side-eye. He did grimace a little when I told him what my research subject was, though. Ha ha. Sorry I'm not writing a three hundred page dissertation on CLARINET REEDS.

10:00am: So far I have started this blog blahg post, finished my morning coffee (soy flat white because I'm fancy), updated my Facebook status, and...that's about it. The end of the semester seems to be an exceptionally slow time here at Office Job 2. I guess that means I will I should have plenty of dissertation work time today.

1:45pm: Whoa. Look how much time has passed. And all that time was spent trying to figure out how to freaking add a stats reader to this freaking blog. It's usually very simple, especially on a platform like Blogger, but apparently this template that I've chosen wants to be a difficult pain in the special snowflake. But anyway, I'm kidding about the wasting all that time doing blog nonsense. I went home during my lunch break to pick up our forever puppy BB and take her to her grooming salon appointment, scarf down a quick lunch like a maniac, pick up Professor Schmooblins who stayed home in the morning to continue recuperating his old man back, and head back to campus. And then since I've been back I've checked the office mail and accidentally transferred a call to another coworker in the department instead of Bossman (oops). This is why people like me go to academia, I think. Because we can't be trusted to complete the simplest of clerical tasks. Instead, we must be entrusted with shaping the hearts and minds of the next generation of music and education lovers.

1:54pm: Anyway. At least I've got a book for my research cracked open and sitting next to me at my Office Job 2 desk. That counts for something, right? I've also started doing work for Office Job 1 while sitting at my desk for Office Job 2. #multitasklyfe

...right?

4:00pm: Thirty minutes of the work day left. I just came back from my late afternoon visit to the Fine Arts building to check our mail there. Normally, I like to drop by the office of Professor Schmoobs to say hello and help break up my afternoon office stretch. But nobody was in there today, so I decided to take a side trip to the library and pick up some books that I had on reserve. The student working behind the counter was somebody I had only met once before like three months ago, and he knew my name without seeing my ID. Is that weird? Am I a movie star? *sassy hair flip emoji* 

4:10pm: I just realized that my work desk is starting to resemble a grad student desk. It'll probably be best for me to take these books home. But, honestly, I do more dissertation work in the office than I do at home. Hm.

4:15pm: Welp. I just accidentally erased half of this blog post and spent the last thirty minutes trying to remember what I had done and written. What you just read is the best I could come up with. It's a few minutes early, but Bossman has already left, so I think it is perfectly acceptable for me to ragequit now and head home. Smell ya later.

Merry Blogmas 2015: Day Eight

On the eight day of Blahgmas, my work day gave to me...actual dissertation progress! Thanks to an exceptionally slow day at the office. Here's a snapshot:

That's all I got today. Professor Schmooblebottoms threw his back out like crazy this morning so I am spending my evening tending to his heating pad temperature regulation, foam roller, and massage needs. 

Speaking of which, we have one of these bad boys for when the back massaging needs to be cranked up a notch. I always have to remember to put it away from the viewing area when we have company over sonthat they don't think we are into some funky fetishy things:

Hey, youth of America (or everywhere, really), do some wild and crazy things before time catches up with you. It's only a blink of an eye--and a decade spent in academia--until you reach the age of lower back pain and chronic heartburn. Long sigh.

Merry Blogmas 2015: Day Seven

Today's post brought to you by my current Facebook status because I just came home from working Office Job One in the morning and then teaching lessons this afternoon and then I grabbed the first two thing I saw in the fridge which were a tupperware of week-old sliced tri tip and a half-eaten four day old tuna sandwich, and now I feel too disgusting to do anything else but lay on the couch and rub my belly while making soft whimpering noises:

"Two years ago, a (non-music) professor was unnecessarily rude to me merely because I was standing where he did not approve of my standing in one of the hallways of the Fine Arts building. I let it go because respect for your elders and professional decorum and blah blah. BUT I NEVER FORGOT. This morning, he and I found ourselves in a two-person parking spot showdown, driving past each other through the streets and assorted parking lot aisles near Fine Arts, hoping to be the first to snag the next available space. Finally, after about twenty minutes of this silent battle, I slid into a newly vacated parking spot, checked my lipstick in the rearview mirror, and stepped out of the car--just in time to see him drive past me with a furrowed brow. Our eyes connected. I wish I knew the word to describe my feeling of petty vindication at that moment. It's probably German."

Merry Blogmas 2015: Day Six

Guys.

I do not recommend ordering fifty fried chicken wings for two people. Just don't do it.

And then don't freaking add mac n' cheese, potato wedges, and baked beans on top of it.

WHAT IN THE HELL IS WRONG WITH US?

On today's agenda: quinoa, kale, and a juice cleanse.  Maybe an exorcism.

I guess curling up on the couch in a fetal position while rubbing your abused belly and making the occasional whimpering noise is as good a time as any to read some research on Early Modern Spanish spirituality and mysticism. Was it the Holy Spirit or Satan that inspired these holy visions? This was at the heart of much of Inquisitorial Spanish investigation. Similarly: Was it the Holy Spirit or Satan that compelled us to order a horrific number of chicken wings yesterday?

Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition--in particular not in your bowels.

In any case, the only thing to do now is to drink a mug or two of Holy Coffee and hope that it casts the demons out. Delicious crispy fried demons.

The power of Christ compels you...to leave my colon!

***

Day Six Update:

I went out to try and heal as much of our rotted insides as much as possible by heading to the grocery store to pick up healthier food items than FIFTY FRIED CHICKEN WINGS.

So then I did this thing where I smothered both sides of a chicken breast in salt, pepper, pesto, and a drizzle of lemon juice. Then I pan seared it in a little bit of olive oil (Okay okay, and a pat of butter. Mainly because I only had one pat left in a little container and I wanted to clean out our fridge. Also, fats are good now, mkay?) over a medium high heat. Here's what it looked like mid-sear.

What is that pink thing in the bottom right corner of the chicken? Do I have to put a NSFW tag on this post?

Then I let it finish in a 400 degree oven for ten minutes. Here's what it looked like when it was done and sliced. Guys. This chicken breast was perfect. And nary a weird chicken ladyflower in sight. Those are sliced sun dried tomatoes in the corner.

Meanwhile, I had sautéd some onions and garlic in some olive oil in a medium sized pan. Then I threw in some shredded carrots. Then I added some quinoa and the appropriate amount of chicken stock. Then I covered it and let it cook on a medium low heat for a while--I don't know, long enough for me to hang up some more Christmas ornaments on our Dogwood tree outside, fill our bird houses with seed, and sweep our living room. When I finished all that, I uncovered the pan and let the quinoa finish cooking out. Then, I added a couple handfuls of kale, and a little bit of toasted sliced almonds, dried cranberries, goat cheese crumbles, sun dried tomatoes, and black pepper.

Ta da. My bowels gurgle with excitement over being treated compassionately again. Or maybe it just gurgled because I fed it too much fried chicken yesterday. Notice the celery, apples, and carrots in the background of this artfully posed Instagram photo. Some fresh juice will complete our exorcism.

Hope everyone had a good weekend. One more week of classes and it's finals week. But what does that matter to me? I'm ABD. Yea boi.

Merry Blogmas 2015: Day Five

Things I did today when I should have been working on my dissertation:

1. Watched Youtube videos in bed. Who are these beauty gurus who are so good at doing makeup, but when I try to do what they do I look like a hooker clown?

2. Watched an episode of The Mindy Project on Hulu in bed. Because I fell asleep in the middle of an episode last night. Once I start something, I work really hard to complete it. (LIKE YOUR DISSERTATION, ACADAEMIA NUT?)

3. Drank coffee in bed. I end up washing our fleece blanket like twice a week because of my habit of spilling coffee on it. Whoops.

4. Went to Home Depot to buy a Christmas wreath, one box of overpriced but beautiful Martha Steward ornaments for our Dogwood tree in the front yard, and kindling for our fireplace. Can someone just give me an Honorary Doctorate in Making Our House Cute and Cozy? Because I think I deserve one. And it would probably be as useful as a Ph.D in Musicology. BA DUM.

5. Bought a ridonkulous amount of chicken wings with Professor Schmoobins. We may be smart, but we do not have self control. We are really good at justifying our bad decisions, though. "It's not expensive, and I've heard it's like the best fried chicken." "We should probably get some extra wings so we don't have to worry about food later." "Yeah, let's just get enough food that we don't have to leave the house again." "We should probably get a pint of the mac n' cheese since half a pint won't be enough." "And a pint of baked beans too. They look really good."

I mean.

6. Cleaned the kitchen, cleaned the living room, hung up the wreath, and started a fire. (See: Honorary Doctorate)

7. Updated my work information on Facebook.

8. Posted this blog.

Oh god. There are six hours left in the day. What else can I do to successfully evade the Dissertation Monster?

Merry Blogmas 2015: Day Four

I did this thing in the kitchen last night/this morning.

I started off--the way I start off 99% of my dinner dishes--by sauteing garlic and onions in a pan with olive oil. Then I added some ground bison (!) to brown. At this point, I started seasoning: salt, pepper, the usual. Then I started throwing things in from the fridge that need to get used up before they go bad. In this case, it was half a bag of shredded carrots, our final remaining summer garden eggplant, and one bunch of kale. At this point, I decided that the dish was starting to take on some kind of Middle Eastern-ish vibe (maybe it was the eggplant?) so I got funky and sprinkled on some garam masala. I think I was searching for the nutmeg in our horribly unorganized (for shame) spice cupboard and gave up after ten seconds, so I figured garam masala would do the trick. Finally, I threw all caution to the wind and topped it all off with a handful of raisins and sliced almonds.

Meanwhile, I had halved, seasoned, and baked a butternut squash that had been sitting and being neglected in our fridge for like over a month. I have no idea how long butternut squashes stay good, but apparently it is forever forever ever forever ever. I think I probably roasted it for twenty minutes at 400 degrees. Or something like that.

Anyway. When it was all ready to finish, I scooped the Improvisatory Meat Mixture into the squash halves, shredded a poop ton of goat cheddar cheese on top, and baked it at 450 degrees for probably another ten minutes. Et voila!

Oh. And then I had Improvisatory Meat Mixture leftovers, so I decided to make an omelet the next morning.

Wait, I'm leaving something out.

With dinner, Professor Schmooblins and I enjoyed a martini. And then I enjoyed a mar-two-ni. And then my body reminded me that I am very obviously no longer in my twenties, so I shriveled up into a miserable dehydrated mess, suffered through a fitful night of gin-and-olive-juice-marinated sleep, and woke up needing to guzzle a gallon of water. And needing something fatty and meaty and eggy to wake up my shriveled up old cells. So I decided to make an omelet.

Please, let's take a moment together to marvel at how beautifully my gorgeous Mauviel carbon steel pan cooks eggs. The pan was a wedding gift and weighs about fifty billion pounds. I've legit nearly snapped my wrist on more than one occasion attempting to lift it out of the oven with one hand while it was full of something delicious (probably meat). Also, I failed at like my first two attempts at seasoning it. But the beauty of this pan is that it forgives and forgives and forgives. And it makes beautiful eggs, especially when you coat it first with a healthy amount of butter. Duh.

I mean. Just look at that soft, buttery, pillowy goodness.

I need a moment.

Ok, I'm back. When the eggs are just only a little bit runny on top, dump your leftovers from the previous night and fold it over. Ta da! You officially have an omelet.

Serve with a leftover risotto ball, sprinkle with hot sauce (and ketchup, if you're nasty, which I am). Enjoy with a hot cup of coffee and a gallon of water.

Then jump in the shower and do your best to try and get through the work day even though all you want to do is stay at home in a deliciously cozy couch blanket burrito cocoon. 

Merry Blogmas 2015: Day Three

Greetings! For today's post, I figured I'd do a #tbt Throwback Thursday, just for kicks. Especially since I didn't even post any Thanksgiving pictures on any of my other social media (like, whoa). And how the hell am I supposed to get my daily prescribed dose of social affirmation if I don't post every single aspect of my mundane existence for friends and family and acquaintances to see?

In any case, one week ago was Thanksgiving. As has been our tradition for many years, the husband, Professor Schmoobles, and I stay in town--can we talk about how expensive air travel is now UGH--and invite any similarly-positioned friends, colleagues, and students over for a casual binge-fest. Typically, I will take care of cooking the mains and a handful of sides, and guests will bring some extra goodies. The only thing that I always insist on making (no matter the energy and motivation level) is lumpia. It helps me feel connected to my family's Thanksgivings back in California, despite the fact that we now live on the opposite side of the country. I've gotten so good at making lumpia IF I DO SAY SO MYSELF that I don't even need to consult my mom's (i.e. The Best) recipe anymore.

I mean. Look at how glorious. 40 lumpias are enough for seven people, right? Also please note my lovely bowl of persimmons, my favorite tree-grown product of the winter season. Usually, my dear mother sends me a package of them from our tree back home, but she said this year was a non-producing year for the tree. (Slacker tree.) Luckily, our nearby Asian grocery was selling these beauties for like $1.99 a pound, so I got myself a bowlful.

Fry day, fry day. Gotta get down on fry day.

As for the turkey, we decided to do the deep fry thing this year. Our friends live near us and have a deep fryer, so they offered to let Schmooblins come over in the morning and fry the sucker. How could we say no? When in the South, do as the Southerners do, as they say. It came out super crispy and not at all dry on the inside. Unfortunately, we ruined the optimum deliciousness possibility by scheduling our actual get together later in the afternoon, so our poor fried turkey had to sit on our counter (and then gently reheated in the oven) for hours before we sliced in, and by that point, I think it had lost some its pizzazz. *sad trombone* I'm thinking that next year, I may completely do away with all the traditional Thanksgiving fare (Except for the lumpia. DO NOT MESS WITH THE LUMPIA.) and just cook dishes that I want to cook. Maybe some more international stuff. Some stews. Or whatever.

Anyway, so we had Schmooblins' new TA and his wife, another TA, a fellow grad school friend, and an undergraduate student from China come over. I think maybe the undergrad was a little underwhelmed. When Schmoobs was driving him back after dinner, he apparently said that he doesn't quite "get" Thanksgiving (understandable) because they don't celebrate it in China...but that they do celebrate Black Friday. HA. Go figure.

In other news: I passed by our School of Music Director today and wished him a "Happy Birthday! ...according to Facebook!" and he then told me that he thought I was the funniest person on Facebook and that he always wants to "like" all my posts, but that he can't "for obvious reasons." Haha. To which I replied, "Oh, I know. Professionalism and all that. Maybe someday I'll learn that lesson, too." If someone can just explain to me how I might go about earning a salary just from posting idiotic and vaguely inappropriate Facebook posts, that would be great. Please and thank you in advance.

And finally, Dissertation Progress Update: Today I have managed to finally FINALLY finish reading an article that I have been chipping away at at which I have been chipping away for like two weeks. Here's the problem with being an un-funded ABD doctoral student with bills (INCLUDING TUITION UGH) to pay and cute lip glosses to buy: you have to fit in all of your dissertation work schedule around a real life work schedule. In my case, this means reading a couple pages here, a few paragraphs there, and gradually adding data to my Excel spreadsheet (yea boi research organization) and slowly but surely (emphasis on slowly) adding to the word count of my dissertation document. Anyway, so, yeah, article read. Two new articles found to read. Two books requested through Interlibrary Loan. And three other books requested from our campus main library. Looks like I'll have a good reading list to keep at my work desk for the next few weeks.

Merry Blogmas 2015: Day One (...and Two!)

(One day late. Because, of course.)

There's this thing that Youtubers and vloggers do every December called "Vlogmas." Essentially, you upload one video every day starting on December 1 up until Christmas. It must be an offshoot of the whole NaNoWriMo thing. Anyway, not important. What is important is that since I'm trying to start up this new blahg, I should really take this opportunity to force myself into doing a Blogmas this month. Even if I am a day late.

That being said--Greetings from my Office Job 2 desk! By way of introduction, perhaps I should go into a little background. I am a fourth-year doctoral student in musicology. "What even is musicology, Acadaemia Nut?" you might ask. Musicology could be a myriad of wonderful and magical things.

It could be this, for example:

Thank you, Prince.

Some fools might say it's this:

Screw you, Urban Dictionary. You don't know me.

But in reality, it's totally this:

Ahahaha. Hahahaha. Sigh.

So, long story short, I finished my third and final year of doctoral coursework last year, passed my qualifying exams, defended my dissertation prospectus, achieved ABD status, felt pretty good about myself for about two months, got married, etc. The only bad thing (Well, not the ONLY bad thing. See above memes.) about all this is that my program only offers three years of assistantship funding--which is a whole entire source of extended and intensive grievances.

Which is why I find myself here. A mid-thirties humanities graduate student, working two office jobs (both at the University), freelancing on the side, and dreaming of a life in which I am finally a salaried, self-sufficient, adult human being. But in the meantime, I guess I'll keep on trying to work on this goddamn dissertation.

Alright. Until tomorrow, then.

Merry Blogmas!

Merry Blahgmas!

Bah Humblahgmas!

Kentucky to California: Live Blogging!

11:40am Sacramento time:

I made it! Dear anyone who doesn't know any better - The inside of an airplane cabin full of people and no air circulation is NEVER the right place to spritz on some perfume. EVERRR.

Get me to an In n Out, STAT!

10:47am, About 100 miles from Sacramento:

You know how when you are flying internationally, say to Japan or the Philippines, and you have to endure like twenty or more freaking hours of flying and you think to yourself, "From now on, flying just inside the US will not be a big deal at all! So not annoying and torturous!" WRONG. It's still annoying and torturous. Sorry, Louis CK. Modern flight is a miracle, but it's still annoying.

Teleportation, take me away!

10:42am West Coast time, somewhere between Denver and Sacramento:

Are we sure this leg from Houston is only four hours? Because the captain just said that we are about 45 minutes from arrival and I'm pretty sure I've been on this plane for twenty hours. Peen Carrot Tattoo Guy actually ended up being very nice and amiable, but way too chatty. I pretty much had to engage in Project Possum (pretending to be asleep) as soon as we took off. Sorry, Peen Carrot Tattoo Guy. I don't do airplane conversation. 

Omg. Get me off this plane.

9:05am:

Here's a photo from our descent into Houston. 

So much for bathroom or coffee. I had just enough time to navigate through the Houston airport's highly unsatisfactory terminal directions, get to the right terminal, and then the right gate, just in time to find my flight almost finished boarding. And by the time I got to my row, there was some lady sitting in my window seat when she is supposed to be in the middle seat, but the flight attendant was like, "Well, I would suggest you take the middle seat anyway because there will be more room underneath for your dog." And I was like, "Ugh, fine. Whatever." But just see if I give up EITHER armrest, Lady Who Can't Read Seat Designations And Is Currently Getting All Comfortable And Angling For This Armrest That I Have Already Claimed As My Own In Exchange For That Window And Wall That You Now Get To Enjoy.

Omg, does the guy to my left have a peen tattooed on his forearm? Oh wait, maybe it's a joint. Or a baby carrot? 

Oh goody, they've already started the pre-flight announcements. Middle seat AND no headphones? See you in four extremely grouchy hours.

WHY DOES EVERYBODY SMELL LIKE B.O.???

8:21am Houston time:

Greetings from Houston! Or at least from a runway in the Houston airport where we've been waiting for our gate to clear for nearly half an hour. Assuming I get out of here soon and have an hour to wait for my connection, the questions I must inevitably confront: To airport bathroom or not to airport bathroom? Also: To coffee or not to coffee? Oh God, I want coffee. I haven't had any this morning and HAVE I MENTIONED THAT I'VE BEEN AWAKE SINCE THREE IN THE FREAKIN' MORNING? But coffee during travel inevitably means having to pee (or worse!) during travel and that is just no bueno. I once made myself hold it from a flight from Dallas to Charlotte and then a drive from Charlotte to Brevard. Long story short, I had a UTI for TWO MONTHS. In the mountains. You're learning too much about me. Time to change subjects.

We're still inside this winged metal tube breathing in other people's farts. But the pilot keeps reassuring is that it will be "just a few more minutes" so I am hopeful. (Hahaha as if.)

6:38am:

Well. Dreams don't come true, kids. Effing late boarders and their effing taking of the seat next to me. 😡 Oh well. At least he smells like Aveda hair products. Off to pretend sleep land. Only twenty minutes delayed. Not bad.

6:19am:

Boarded but not yet taken off (doy). There is currently nobody sitting next to me. I repeat: There is currently nobody sitting next to me. Could this be? Can dreams come true? Oh Lord, I'm knocking on all the plastic and faux vinyl I can possibly reach right now. Close those damn doors so nobody else can get in this plane!

Also, here's the view from my seat. Almost makes the 6am awake time worth it. Almost.

6:03am:

Boarding. What an enthralling update. What is enthralling is that this flight is on time. Wait, did I just jinx myself? I need to knock on wood. THERE IS NOTHING WOODEN IN THIS AIRPORT. Knock on metal and faux vinyl.

5:45am:

Things that should be illegal:

1. Waking up at 3am to drive to Louisville to catch a 6am flight.

2. Businessmen who stand too close behind you in the security line and bump into your bag every fifteen seconds.

3. Regulation-size candy bars that cost $2.50.

Things I have already realized I forgot to pack:

1. A swimsuit

2. A squeaky toy for BB

3. Earbuds

Who even travels without earbuds or headphones anymore? Gaaah. Now I'll have to INSTANTLY pretend to be asleep in order to cut off all possible interaction from my airplane seatmates. Maybe they'll offer free headphones on the plane. Or maybe I can buy a pair here at the terminal. (Hahahahahaha - as if. It would probably be $200.)

On the plus side, I've only been sitting at our gate for five minutes and four older people sitting near me have already creamed themselves over BB. Appropriate response. Good job, fellow travelers.

Zombies and Fried Rice

Last night I dreamt that I was part of some rag tag comedic office environment and someone pulled a prank of filling the elevator with vegetable fried rice. I didn't even have any fried rice for dinner or lunch or breakfast, so I don't know where that came from. Fried rice needs no explanation, I suppose.

But wait, there's more!

I woke up from this dream and it was still dark out, so I decided to roll over and go back to sleep. And then I dreamt that I had had this dream (in my dream) about the office and the fried rice prank and was telling people about it. And then I woke up because it was all a dream.

INCEPTION BRRRRWAAAAANG!

My dream analysis leads to the conclusion that my brain is filled with anxiety about finding a job and would love to work in an office in which comedy hijinks and fried rice pranks occur. The end.

In related news: I am actually quite surprised that I had this dream last night and not a nightmare about zombies chewing our faces off, because Schmoobs and I have finally decided to check out this new show called "The Walking Dead." (Have you heard of it? It's pretty obscure...) Long story short, I may never eat meat again.

***

OMG TEN SECONDS LATER UPDATE!

I was sitting up in our Little Unemployed ABD Musicology Grad Student's room taking care of some coffee-inspired business when I opened up an email saying that I had been approved to continue my regular schoolyear office job during this summer. Hooray! I hope this isn't just a dream!

INCEPTION BRRRRWAAAAANG!

Middle Life.

What constitutes middle-aged these days? PLEASE DON'T SAY THIRTY-FIVE. Because I am like two weeks away from that. Ay caramba.

In related news, I've been doing a minimal amount of daily push-ups for about a week and this morning I noticed that my arms are not jiggling when I am shaking the used coffee grinds out of our reusable k-cup filters! Success!

Also in related news, I decided overnight that I am no longer into lip glosses (for the first time since, like, THE NINETIES, PEOPLE) and have made the leap to matte lip stains and even *gulp* lipsticks. Is this a sign of middle life? Am I supposed to start making appointments to get Botoxed now? Can I no longer wear shorts above my knees?

Well, I still give myself haircuts--and by "haircuts" I mean "I put my hair into two pigtails and then I take a pair of shears and slice off two inches or so of hair in front of our bathroom mirror"--so there's a sign that I'm not yet fully matured.

Flashback Friday! The one where I didn't update for like a thousand years and then wrote an effing novel to make up for it.

I am instituting a weekly series in which I revisit posts from my old (super secret...shhh) blog. This one is from June 2006, when I worked a 9 to 5 desk job for a symphony orchestra and entertained my friends and family with accounts of my daily misery. Posts like this serve as confirmation that Stubborn Tomato does not belong behind a desk pushing papers. But you do what you have to do to support your nasty habit of music and education. Anyway, here we go into the time warp...!

***

MONDAY, JUNE 05, 2006

Alright, you asked for it....

Y: AN UPDATE

Prologue

It was a dark and stormy night. But not really. The concert season had ended and Y was left with nothing to do at work but file a crapload of papers and forms in an organized and alphabetical manner into the Infernal Wall of File Cabinets. Unfortunately, she has become incapable of actually doing that sort of mindless activity for more than 20 minutes at a time, as cable television and TiVo have singlehandedly destroyed her once healthy and thriving attention span.

In spite of this, she still manages to go about her daily non-paper-filing-related work duties in a swift and efficient manner, and, hence, is finished with everything that needs to get done by 10:30 in the morning. This means that she is left with 6 1/2 mind-numbing hours with which to do nothing, and yet she must appear as though she is intensely involved in some important project, lest Bossman or Crazy Lunatic Supervisor walk by her desk and realize that she has done nothing but check her email 27 times in the last 5 minutes. Fortunately, this means that she now has more time than ever to appease the ever-growing mob of people that have been harassing her for not updating her blog in an apparently unacceptable time span of two weeks, and can finally update her goddamned blog. Are you happy now??!!

ps. I am 2 hours into the workday and my phone just now rang for the first time this morning. It was a wrong number. Go figure. It seems my usual beloved pack of wild, rabid telephone-wielding symphony patrons have gone into hibernation for the summer.

* * *

Chapter I: Aaah, the office.

IN WHICH I WAX NOT-SO-ELOQUENTLY ON THE BANALITY OF MY DAY-TO-DAY, 9 TO 5 EXISTENCE WORKING FOR A SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA

____________________________________

Ok, so the story goes that about a week and a half ago, our concert season ended, and I took it upon myself to take a one-week vacation. I promptly high-tailed it out of Knoxville and headed to Seattle for a few days to meet up with Schmoobs so we could partake in some various UW-related music events, look at apartments, state and re-state multiple times to each other how awesome Seattle is, have fits of anxiety about not finding a job there (that last one was just me) and just generally bemoan the fact that we still had two more months until we would finally be living there.

Here's the catch: I couldn't actually tell people at the office that I was going to Seattle, because:

a) Crazy Lunatic Supervisor happens to not only be crazy and a lunatic, but also paranoid. She thinks that everybody who takes time off from work is doing so because they are off searching for a new job and she will literally harass you multiple times a day asking you, "You're not taking time off because you have a job interview, are you?" or "You're not looking for a new job, are you?" so many ridiculous times that you have to muster up all your powers of self-control not to just pick her up and throw her off the nearby bridge in the hopes that she will get eaten by a troll. Never mind that she was kind of right to be paranoid in this instance because I am looking for a new job (ha!) and also right to be paranoid when Cool Co-Worker took the morning off a couple of weeks ago because of a "doctor's appointment," (haha!) and definitelyright to be paranoid when Bossman went on vacation for several days without telling anybody where he was going (haha again!). It doesn't change the fact that it's Really. Annoying. when she asks you all those questions.

b) Much of the office staff already knew that Schmoobs just graduated. Most also already had it in the back of their minds that he would be leaving Knoxville in the fall to go to doctoral school, and that I might go with him. Some were also privy to the information that he eventually chose the University of Washington. With that in mind, I knew that some on the staff were intelligent enough to put two and two together and realize what was up if I were to tell them I was going to Seattle during my vacation.

Oh, and remember that I did tell a few people about my devious plan while under the influence of margaritas (Oh, Tequila. You clever little devil...), but that's ok because I knew they (probably?) wouldn't tell anyone else. Needless to say, as far as everyone else in the office was concerned, I was going home to California to visit friends and family. The West Coast is where it's at, folks. For realz. Anyway, close enough, right? That's what I thought. Especially when I came back to work on Tuesday and had to go right to the weekly staff meeting, during which this dialogue took place in front of the entire staff:

Bossman: "So, how was your vacation?"

Me: "Awesome."

Clueless coworker: "Now, where exactly did you go again?"

Me: (gulp) "Um, back West...?"

Staff: "Awwwww, that's nice."

Me: (phew)

In any case, the office was sweet enough to throw me a little birthday party during the staff meeting, even though it was nearly one week after the fact. I would like to think that it was because, in the brief time that I've been working here, they've come to respect and appreciate my position as a pleasant and valuable member of the staff. But I know that it's really because they will use any excuse to get away from their desks and eat cake at 9:30 in the morning.

* * *

Chapter II: This one's for you, Robin.

IN WHICH I MAKE IT CLEAR THAT SEATTLE ROCKS HARD AND MY MOVING THERE MAKES ME EVEN THAT MUCH COOLER THAN YOU

____________________________________

Reasons why Y is moving to Seattle:

• Because she likes Schmoobs. A lot.
• Because she will have more opportunities to develop as a musician there.
• Because the clarinet teacher at UW is awesome.
• Because - all talk of seasonal depression aside - the conditions there are quite temperate and when the temperature is 82 degrees, it actually feelslike it's 82 degrees, not like you're standing on the surface of the sun and the air is so thick you can hardly breath, but it wouldn't matter if you could or not anyway because your face is about to melt off.
• Because she also likes Schmoobles's cat, Bela. A lot.
• Because she will be only one 2-hour, nonstop plane ride from her family, rather than an 8-10 hour, 1 or 2 stop airborne nightmare.
• Because she needs to get the hell out of Knoxville.

Reasons why Seattle rocks hard:

• Because there's water everywhere!
• Because you can drive to Vancouver in a few hours and cross the Capilano Suspension bridge and eat buffalo burgers.
• Because the oysters there are abundant and delicious.
• Because they're liberal!
• Because they're so liberal that, even while living in the holy birthplace of Starbucks, most of them don't like going to Starbucks because it's too corporate (I, of course, will still remain true to my passion, however blasphemous that may make me there).
• Because they're so liberal that I actually felt like a stuffy conservative when I went to visit last week!
• Because, not only do they have "The Da Vinci Code" in theaters, they also have "The Da Kinki Code" at the Lusty Lady.
• Because I will once again be living in a city that doesn't allow smoking in public establishments (sorry, Ben).
• Because I can ease off my allergy medication there, I think.
• Because it's on the West Coast, where I belong!
• Because I could go on forever, but I won't.

Reasons why my moving there makes me that much cooler than you:

• Ummm...it just does, ok?

* * *

Chapter III: Because 3 chapters feels better than 2.

IN WHICH I SPOUT OFF A NUMBER OF RANDOM THOUGHTS IN MY BRAIN LIKE I SHOULD HAVE BEEN DOING ON THIS BLOG FOR THE PAST 2 WEEKS

____________________________________

So a couple of days ago, I was eating some leftover office cake at my desk when Crazy Lunatic Supervisor came over and said, "You eat sweets more than anyone I know and you stay so little! ...But that's ok because I didn't start getting big until I hit 40." To which I had two replies: #1 (the actual one): "Yeah, it'll probably catch up to me. But until then...," and #2 (the one in my head): "Even if I eat nothing but oatmeal raisin cookies and iced coffees from Starbucks for the rest of my life, I am at least not a crazy, paranoid loon, so please don't imply that I will end up anything like you at forty. Ew."

Either I am all of a sudden paying for it for slacking off on my allergy medication for several weeks, or I am getting a cold, but I have been sneezing at like 40 BPM all morning. I hit up my Advair last night, but it might be a case of too-little too-late. Speaking of allergies, do you ever rub your eyes so hard when their itchy that you get scared one of them might pop out? I do. When I was little, somebody (probably an evil sibling) told me that Raul Julia (you know, from Addam's Family) once rubbed his eyes so hard that he accidentally popped one of his eyeballs out of its socket and he had to pop it back in. Gross. That stuff sticks with you. Now everytime I rub my eyes I have to tell myself to ease up a little bit so I don't have to pop my eyeball back in.

Ben (i.e. my Daddy #1) is leaving Knoxville in exactly one week. This turns my blackened heart so much more dark and stone-like that if I were to stick it up some un-named orifice, it would turn into a diamond. And then I would use the money I gained from selling that diamond on Ebay to hire stealthy ninjas to kidnap him and take him to Seattle. Or just buy some plane tickets to visit him. Whichever. Anyway, Ben: You've been pretty much my best friend here in Knoxville and I'm going to miss you tremendously. I will need to call you periodically to engage in some phone you-know-what (Don't think dirty thoughts. It involves the clarinet, I swear...). And don't forget that before you go, we need to pull off the single greatest food event East Tennessee has ever seen : The United Nations Food Fest!*

Seriously, my allergies are out of control. I want to pop my nose off my face and put it in a nice, soothing warm milk bath. And then throw my eyeballs in there while I'm at it because they are red and itchy. What is this thing with body parts popping out of my face today?

You know what my current favorite-television-show-of-all-time is (except for the perennial The Simpsons which will forever and always occupy the top space)? The Office. It touches me deeply in places I never knew existed in my soul until I started working my current job. I want a Dwight bobble-head to put on my desk. If you don't already, you need to start watching it. Doing so, much like listening to the Dvorak Cello Concerto, will make you a better, more attractive human being.

Ok, so I just got back from a walk to the mailbox down the street and in the process of doing so, was whistled at twice by a couple of shower-deprived gentlemen. If I weren't already fully aware of the fact that I am completely fabulous, this would have done wonders for my self-esteem. Also, I walked by another shower-deprived not-so-gentleman who was literally pee-ing right there on the sidewalk. And on that note....

* * *

Epilogue

IN WHICH I SAY TO ALL OF YOU: "OK, I'VE GONE AND DONE IT. ARE YOU SATISFIED? I BETTER GET SOME GODDAMNED COMMENTS OUT OF THIS."

____________________________________

Ok, it's now 2:40 in the afternoon and I've actually been working fairly consistently without having to go anywhere near the damned wall of file cabinets. Huzzah! Unfortunately, I've finished most everything else I can possibly do except for file those papers away. Which is my cue to take my lunch break and think of other productive things to do that don't involve inserting things in alphabetical order into a cabinet. And don't say:

1) check my email

2) check my Myspace

3) read the news on msn.com

4) read all of the other blogs linked from this one

5) go to the bathroom and reapply my lipgloss for the 10th time

6) go to the kitchen to get some (more) coffee

7) go to the kitchen to check on the office cake situation

8) finish the minutes from last month's Board meeting

9) read about the new Kings head coach

10) check my email again.

Because I've already done all those.

* * *

THE END

* In which we hit up as many restaurants as we possibly can in one day in an attempt to sample all the cuisines of the countries represented in the United Nations. Don't ask why, just learn to accept. And join in if you like.