It's a Holy War out there

I think getting a sewing machine for Christmas is the funniest thing that's ever happened to me, and that includes the time I was told I look like Dakota Fanning.
Now that's pretty dang funny.

2010 will be a treat.

I'm doing a Study Abroad program with the Art History department from April til June. That means 7 weeks of museums, ugly shoes, and chances to get to know my professors way more than I would like. I can't wait.

We are starting In Greece to get our fill of naked (sorry, nude) statues, then off to Italy to eat some gelato. From there we go to Austria, who knows what's there, then hop on a plane to visit the Netherlands and Belgium. We'll jump over to London for tea, and end with a two week stay in Paris. Oh la la, I've forgotten all my French.

Meanwhile, I'll be passing the time with the final season of Lost, which starts in exactly 2 weeks. I've never been this excited about a TV event before. I'll miss the last 3 or 4 episodes due to the aforementioned European adventure, but I'm ok with that- absence makes the heart grow fonder, yes?

!!!!!!!!

I have a class in a room that makes sounds like a submarine, and I am a bit too excited. It will probably take all my effort to not belt out a line or two of Yellow Submarine.
I just have a thing for submarines.

Fervor!

I abhor talking animal movies.

This includes live-action movies only, of course, Pixar still has my blessing, but I can't help but notice the sudden increase in awful films with talking animal protagonists. I do not want to pay money to see a hamster crack jokes, nor will I ever have the urge to do so. Dogs do not smile, cats do not wink, and squirrels do not sing. Ever.

Here's a funky idea- they should take the money they would foolishly spend on making these abominations and use it for a good cause, such as feeding the hungry, building orphanages, or perhaps supporting legislation to ban any more animal movies.

I feel I must mention one exception- Babe will forever and always be the gold standard for what an animal movie should be, if we were to allow animal movies to continue. Unfortunately it is an anomaly, and I fear that nothing will live up to its greatness.

This is a call to arms, future filmmakers of America. There's a reason why animals are mute. Let's keep it that way.

I have a job? A job?

Funny thing is, I was asleep when I accepted it.
BUT I SHALL BE THE BEST SOMNAMBULIST EMPLOYEE THEY'VE EVER HAD!

On a lighter note, I'm dressing up as the Swine Flu for Halloween. Maybe it's insensitive, but it sure is the cultural reference of the century.

Hall and Oates, your greatness transcends time

But never will Simon and Garfunkel be replaced as my favorite musical duo of the mid 20th century.

Their breezy tunes have something that H&O could never achieve, and besides, you just can't compete with the sweaters S&G always wear.

Today

Today I almost rode my bike into a car. I started an abstract on Hegelian aesthetics and decided not to finish. I killed a spider, made a chocolate quesadilla, and got lost. Then I won a staring contest.

I frequently quote myself.

I'm almost positive that I can only raise my left eyebrow on odd numbered days and my right one on the evens.

More research on this subject to follow.

Just call me the....

Scuba diving with a head cold was not the best idea I've ever had.

Back by popular demand

Why must every party mix contain so many pretzels?
They are the snack food equivilant of radioactive waste.

I ate a honey sandwich, olé!

I do not wish to expound on this honey sandwich, except to say that it was very delicious and I may have had another.

How do you feel after spending a minute of your life reading about my honey sandwich?

Honey?

Nothing irks me more than the incorrect use of apostrophes

Let's all take a moment to admire my domestic prowess

I tried to disinfect with nail polish remover instead of alcohol.

Luckily I caught my mistake just seconds before I poisoned myself, which, I would like to point out, was miraculous, seeing that the two bottles look almost identical.

Forget that there are labels on these bottles that identify them- I was preoccupied with crêpes.

I think that's understandable.

Today I tried on a rad pair of pants.

These pants fit quite nice- straight leg (flair pants make me look like a swollen elephant), plenty of room in the booty area, a stretchy waist for comfort...

I should have known that these were not ordinary pants. They fit different, but they fit well.

And then the shocking discovery:

I BOUGHT MATERNITY PANTS.

PANTS FOR PREGNANT PEOPLE. I BOUGHT THEM AND THEY FIT.

Maybe I can share my preggo pants with my preggo sister, who would be too small to fit into these glorious pants normally.

Wonderful.

The booty was just so spacious...

I shall now proceed to tell a very true but very uninteresting story about myself.

Yesterday, while I was at the plant store

(I'm afraid at this point I must cut in- I just don't know how to accurately refer to place in which I was. It was a flower store, but that wording is awkward. I guess I could say nursery, but I don't want any confused readers to wonder what babies have to do with this story. Florist doesn't quite describe it. How about The Quaint Vendor of Flowers, Shrubs and Miscellaneous Gardening Accessories? I'm all for overstating.)

Yesterday, while I was at The Quaint Vendor of Flowers, Shrubs and Miscellaneous Gardening Accessories, I was minding my own business when I was stopped by a middle-to-elderly aged lady.

(A mole (the animal, not the birthmark) wearing glasses is an accurate image of this particular specimen)

She asked me a question that involved the cigar flower she was holding.

(The cigar flower, or Cuphea ignea, is a plant native to Mexico that is often used as a decorative houseplant.)

I mumbled that I didn't know and quickly shuffled away. The poor mole-lady thought I was an employee, not a fellow shopper! I was embarassed for her, because I've done the same thing, multiple times.

(At clothing stores, sporting events...)

But my concern is this- all the employees were wearing matching purple shirts that had the name of the Quaint Vendor of Flowers, Shrubs and Miscellaneous Gardening Accessories clearly written. Needless to say, I was not wearing that shirt, nor was I in a color that remotely resembled purple. Yes, I was carrying a flat of perennials,

(apparently looking very official)

but so was every customer. It. Was. A. Flower. Store.

DUH is the first word that comes to mind.
I am the victim of Mistaken Employee Identity. Watch out folks, we have an offender, and she's not very bright.