My yearly top ten picks for books and movies! Since I've already bored you with it once, I think it's time this yearly custom became an annual tradition.
Again, a disclaimer: my picks for books will necessarily be out of the books I've read this year, not just books published this year, since it's not very often that I read brand new books. I finally kept a log of everything I've read in the year, and it turns out that I've only completed a disappointing 30 books, so that's not including 4 books that I started but didn't finish (Bleak House being one of them, which I have spent the whole of December reading and which I'm not even half-way through yet. Damn Dickens.). Out of those 30, 4.5 were re-reads, which I find as I revise this post has gone up from what I had originally counted as 2.5. Darn. I thought I was doing better this year, but apparently I'm not.
As for movies, I didn't get to see a lot of the smaller films that are making the critics' top ten lists, so you'll just have to bear with me. Overall, I felt like this year really blew for movies - only one or two really stand out in my mind as being worthy of watching again or even remembering in any fashion.
So the lists.
Best Books I Read in 2006
1. The Runaway by Alice Munro. This is only the second book I've read by Munro, but I think she may be one of my new favorite writers. As with pretty much all her books, this is a collection of short stories, some of which are related and some of which are not, but they are all excellent.
2. White Teeth by Zadie Smith. To be honest, the thing about this novel that really makes it outstanding in my mind was that fact that Smith was only 21 when she wrote it. This simultaneously awes me and fills me with self-hatred and gut-twisting envy. But I gotta give props where props are due.
3. Gilgamesh by Joan London. For a first novel, the writing was so tight and clean you could eat dinner off it. Also, good pacing and plot - I think I finished the book in a couple of days.
4. Moral Disorder by Margaret Atwood. Everything Atwood writes is compulsively readable, including this little novella which is not large on plot but is very wonderful just the same. Finished it in about a day and a half.
5. Case Histories by Kate Atkinson. Here's the thing: after I read this book I was like, "Eh. OK, it's good, but I don't see what the big deal is." Then I keep remembering all the little stories and details and thinking to myself, "What book was that from? ... Ah yes." And that's basically how I know for myself if a book or movie is good - if I keep thinking about it long after the moment is over.
6. A Thousand Acres by Jane Smiley.
I think I'll stop here, actually. It seems kind of absurd to rate one third of the books you've read as the best of the year, especially when one-sixth of those are re-reads from previous years.
Best Movies I've Seen in 2006
1. The Departed. This is the Martin Scorsese film with Leonardo DiCaprio and Matt Damon, involving Boston criminals and lots and lots of violence. It's sort of a tie between this and The Queen, but there is a part of me that feels The Queen was too light to be number 1.
2. The Queen. It's about the queen, and Tony Blair and the death of Princess Diana. What more is there to say? Oh yeah. Helen Mirren is pretty good.
3. The Devil Wears Prada. One of the best movies of the year? Probably not to most people. Not even to me, really, but thing about this movie is that it was exactly the movie I wanted to see at exactly that moment in time, so I have very warm feelings for it, much the same way I feel about Love, Actually which, truth be told, is not a great film. But Meryl Streep is so excellent in it - if you block out all the pap about Anne Hathaway's character, you can have a really enjoyable experience.
4. Inside Man. Just a plain good movie to see in a theatre - intense, fast-paced, truly suspenseful until the very end. Clive Owen rocks. [P.S. After having seen Children of Men, I can safely say that Clive Owen double rocks. And in fact Children of Men probably belongs on this list.]
5. An Inconvient Truth. Never have slideshows and animated polar bears been so powerful or rage-inducing.
6. Marie Antoinette. Frothy, light-hearted, good clean fun, if a tad overlong. Perhaps the soundtrack may have biased me a little.
Doesn't really fit since it was a made-for-TV movie, but deserves an honorable mention: Bleak House, whose virtues I expounded upon previously.
OK, I think that's all I have the energy for today, what with the obligatory January 1st hang-over and all. Welcome to 2007!
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Highlights of my Christmas vacation
In no particular order:
1) Getting screamed at for being a "FUCKING BITCH!" because I could not correctly navigate my two large rolling bags in a crowd full of angry travellers and accidentally bumped my bags (which I was pulling behind me, therefore out of my line of vision) into someone else's empty luggage cart. God, why can't I just watch where I'm going, huh? Because, people, I'm just a stupid fucking bitch. (BTW, it will come as no surprise that this occured at the monstrously managed Ronald Reagan National Airport in DC, at 11:00 at night, after having spent all day on planes and in airports. Fun!).
2) Listening to BF's underweight sisters compair thigh circumference and trade remarks such as "You're so much thinner than me!" and "No, you're thinner! God, I want to kill myself, you're so much thinner than me!" Luckily, no one ever suggested I might be thin.
3) Getting screamed at by BF's little sister because we suggested going out to eat, and then, when no one could agree on just who was going to go or where we would be going, decided against the idea. This made us stupid, indecisive, and selfish, and the target of the family's hatred. In the end, we suffered through an awkward meal at a local restaurant in order for BF not to be disowned.
4) Listening to BF's alcoholic sister rage drunkenly about those goddamn gays who are always rubbing their disgusting gayness in other people's faces. If we let them get married, before you know it everyone will be gay! Do you want that, huh? Is that what you people want?
5) Being asked point blank by BF's dad, in thinly disguised language, just when the hell we were going to get married already.
6) The aforementioned quiz administered by my mother.
But really, it is so nice to be with family during the holidays, don't you think?
1) Getting screamed at for being a "FUCKING BITCH!" because I could not correctly navigate my two large rolling bags in a crowd full of angry travellers and accidentally bumped my bags (which I was pulling behind me, therefore out of my line of vision) into someone else's empty luggage cart. God, why can't I just watch where I'm going, huh? Because, people, I'm just a stupid fucking bitch. (BTW, it will come as no surprise that this occured at the monstrously managed Ronald Reagan National Airport in DC, at 11:00 at night, after having spent all day on planes and in airports. Fun!).
2) Listening to BF's underweight sisters compair thigh circumference and trade remarks such as "You're so much thinner than me!" and "No, you're thinner! God, I want to kill myself, you're so much thinner than me!" Luckily, no one ever suggested I might be thin.
3) Getting screamed at by BF's little sister because we suggested going out to eat, and then, when no one could agree on just who was going to go or where we would be going, decided against the idea. This made us stupid, indecisive, and selfish, and the target of the family's hatred. In the end, we suffered through an awkward meal at a local restaurant in order for BF not to be disowned.
4) Listening to BF's alcoholic sister rage drunkenly about those goddamn gays who are always rubbing their disgusting gayness in other people's faces. If we let them get married, before you know it everyone will be gay! Do you want that, huh? Is that what you people want?
5) Being asked point blank by BF's dad, in thinly disguised language, just when the hell we were going to get married already.
6) The aforementioned quiz administered by my mother.
But really, it is so nice to be with family during the holidays, don't you think?
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Hey kids, just a quick word from Tucson while my parents are at church (yes, on a Tuesday - apparently they go every day now). BF and I got in at about midnight last night, which would be 2 a.m. Eastern Time, for anyone who is keeping track. So we stumble off the plane, tired as shit and wanting nothing more than to fall into bed, when my mom greets me with the surprise that she has gone even crazier than I had previously suspected: she announces that she is giving me a test. She has made up two beds, one for me and one for BF, and it will be up to me to do the right thing and choose the appropriate place to sleep. So of course I chose to sleep in the same bed as BF. I mean, come on. We've been dating for seven years, having shared the same bed under my parents' roof many, many times in the past. What, pray tell, has changed? Nothing, only that my mother HAS GONE INSANE. *Sigh* Merry freakin' Christmas.
All I Want for Christmas
16. A sane, stable and if not completely atheist, at least tolerant family.
17. A giant piece of chocolate cake. I'm hungry, OK?
Since I may not be able to post again before Christmas, Happy Times, everyone!
All I Want for Christmas
16. A sane, stable and if not completely atheist, at least tolerant family.
17. A giant piece of chocolate cake. I'm hungry, OK?
Since I may not be able to post again before Christmas, Happy Times, everyone!
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Points to ponder
1. Why is the busiest night of the week at the library always a) the night before vacation starts, and b) always the night I'm working by myself?
2. Why must I be in exruciating pain in every part of my body? As I told you, I had a root canal on Monday. Root canals, by their very nature, are not the most relaxing of experiences. They involve the sucking out of the marrow, if you will, of the bone that is your tooth. They invariably involve much drilling and digging and poking with sharp, pointy objects that look as though they were invented to inflict as much pain as possible. They involve needles and metal clamps and blood and suctioning and much drooling. And, if you are me, they involve a dentist who does not know how to properly administer novocane, because let me tell you, I felt EVERY poke, and EVERY prod during my recent root canal, and at the point in the process where he sealed off the tooth with some sort of pink plastic-y, gummy stuff? I almost screamed, or started sobbing, or passed out, the pain she was so intense.
I know, why didn't I just stop him and tell him I was in pain? Because friends, I am what one calls a--how do you say?--ah yes, RETARD. At first the pain wasn't really that bad, just a little poking. I thought, "Well, OK, ouch, but whatever. I just want this bullshit over with as quickly as possible." Then it was, "OK, now that is a bit more painful, that scraping scraping SCRAPING DEAR GOD THE SCRAPING WITH THE POINTY METAL OBJECT WILL KILL ME!" But still, I told myself, being a good little stoic, that this too shall pass, and then the procedure will be over, and I can go home and cry. But oh, I was so very wrong my friends. The procedure was not over. Then came the sealing pink plastic-y stuff. It looks very innocuous, innocent almost, in its gooey bubblegum pinkness. But believe me, it is the devil. A look of sheer abject horror/misery/torture must have shone in my eyes after the dentist jabbed it into my already-screaming tooth, because he suddenly got very concerned, telling me to relax and breathe. But oh, the pain, and oh, the agony, they would not let me relax. At some point adrenaline must have kicked in, though, because gradually the pain subsided and I was able to gather the strength not to kick the dentist in the balls.
Finally, with my poor sucked-out tooth throbbing despite the rest of my mouth being numb, the root canal came to an end and I was able to limp over to the metro station to go to work. (Yes, the majority of the pain was in my tooth, but I'm sure my knees hurt, too, because they will always and forever hurt until the end of time, and thus the limping. Besides, it is a well-established fact that pain in any part of your body will manifest itself in a limp, because otherwise how will people know to feel sorry for you?)
All I Want for Christmas
12. If I can't have a house, a decent-sized two-bedroom apartment would also do nicely.
13. Oh, I don't know, I'd like some new clothes I guess.
14. For my hair to look good for just one freaking day. Just one.
15. Bigger boobs.
2. Why must I be in exruciating pain in every part of my body? As I told you, I had a root canal on Monday. Root canals, by their very nature, are not the most relaxing of experiences. They involve the sucking out of the marrow, if you will, of the bone that is your tooth. They invariably involve much drilling and digging and poking with sharp, pointy objects that look as though they were invented to inflict as much pain as possible. They involve needles and metal clamps and blood and suctioning and much drooling. And, if you are me, they involve a dentist who does not know how to properly administer novocane, because let me tell you, I felt EVERY poke, and EVERY prod during my recent root canal, and at the point in the process where he sealed off the tooth with some sort of pink plastic-y, gummy stuff? I almost screamed, or started sobbing, or passed out, the pain she was so intense.
I know, why didn't I just stop him and tell him I was in pain? Because friends, I am what one calls a--how do you say?--ah yes, RETARD. At first the pain wasn't really that bad, just a little poking. I thought, "Well, OK, ouch, but whatever. I just want this bullshit over with as quickly as possible." Then it was, "OK, now that is a bit more painful, that scraping scraping SCRAPING DEAR GOD THE SCRAPING WITH THE POINTY METAL OBJECT WILL KILL ME!" But still, I told myself, being a good little stoic, that this too shall pass, and then the procedure will be over, and I can go home and cry. But oh, I was so very wrong my friends. The procedure was not over. Then came the sealing pink plastic-y stuff. It looks very innocuous, innocent almost, in its gooey bubblegum pinkness. But believe me, it is the devil. A look of sheer abject horror/misery/torture must have shone in my eyes after the dentist jabbed it into my already-screaming tooth, because he suddenly got very concerned, telling me to relax and breathe. But oh, the pain, and oh, the agony, they would not let me relax. At some point adrenaline must have kicked in, though, because gradually the pain subsided and I was able to gather the strength not to kick the dentist in the balls.
Finally, with my poor sucked-out tooth throbbing despite the rest of my mouth being numb, the root canal came to an end and I was able to limp over to the metro station to go to work. (Yes, the majority of the pain was in my tooth, but I'm sure my knees hurt, too, because they will always and forever hurt until the end of time, and thus the limping. Besides, it is a well-established fact that pain in any part of your body will manifest itself in a limp, because otherwise how will people know to feel sorry for you?)
All I Want for Christmas
12. If I can't have a house, a decent-sized two-bedroom apartment would also do nicely.
13. Oh, I don't know, I'd like some new clothes I guess.
14. For my hair to look good for just one freaking day. Just one.
15. Bigger boobs.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Maybe I should start pricing wheelchairs
So now my left knee has started hurting.
Seriously, does anyone have a rifle I can borrow? I can't guarantee its condition upon return, though.
And to think, all this nonsense started when I began running on a regular basis. Damn the running! Damn the running straight to HELL!
All I Want for Christmas
10. To miraculously be handed a job on a silver platter, wherein I will be able to work from home when it suits me, work from my very own office and/or cubicle (I'm not picky) when I need to get out of the house, and wherein I will not have to deal with human beings, I will not have to work on weekends, and where I will be able to mostly make my own hours. This job will also pay enough for me to live comfortably and take a nice vacation once a year; will have good medical benefits; and will give me ample personal leave days. I am aware this job does not exist.
11. For serious, for all this bullshit in Iraq to stop. Enough with the killing and the dying already.
Seriously, does anyone have a rifle I can borrow? I can't guarantee its condition upon return, though.
And to think, all this nonsense started when I began running on a regular basis. Damn the running! Damn the running straight to HELL!
All I Want for Christmas
10. To miraculously be handed a job on a silver platter, wherein I will be able to work from home when it suits me, work from my very own office and/or cubicle (I'm not picky) when I need to get out of the house, and wherein I will not have to deal with human beings, I will not have to work on weekends, and where I will be able to mostly make my own hours. This job will also pay enough for me to live comfortably and take a nice vacation once a year; will have good medical benefits; and will give me ample personal leave days. I am aware this job does not exist.
11. For serious, for all this bullshit in Iraq to stop. Enough with the killing and the dying already.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Fair warning: this post is just a meme
Yeah, I know. Sorry. But hey, good news! I'm feeling slightly less like I'm drowning in my own mucus. I bravely soldier on.
Anyway.
Meme of Firsts
1. Who was your first Love?
Unfortunately, sad to say many of these will feature the answer of "BF," since as I embarrassingly reported in an earlier post, I have only ever dated one person. The same holds true for this one. If we'd like to include first crushes, on the other hand, the first crush would probably be a kid named Darren I really had a thing for in the sixth grade. I can only vaguely remember what he looked like. Either Darren or Corey Haim. I was 12--shut up.
2. Who was your first kiss and when?
Again, BF. I am such a dork. It was our first date, which would have been September 17, 1999. I think the first kiss was actually at Owen Beach in Point Defiance, which is in Tacoma. Ahhhh, Tacoma. Can you smell the romance?
3. Who was your first date?
The aforementioned BF. Before Owen Beach, we had dinner at Grazzi, an Italian restaurant in Old Town. I had a delicious salmon dish. Sadly, the restaurant is now closed...I guess we'll always have the memories.
Wait!
I lied! My first date was actually a few weeks before I went out with BF--a friend of his asked me out and we went to The Keg (mmm...Keg.....*drool* *drool*). Nothing happened with that one, obviously, especially since the guy lived in Vancouver, WA--about a 2 hour drive to the south--and he was coming down with strep throat at the time. Also, we didn't have very much to say to each other.
4. Who was your first prom date?
I never went to a prom. I never went to a single dance in high school. Do you think I missed out on anything? Other than getting to wear a pretty dress, me neither.
5. Who was your first roommate?
My cousin Missy. I attended Southern Oregon University for one mostly-regrettable year, mainly because I was too afraid to branch out on my own. After one semester, however, my life came into focus and I hastily got the hell out. The lesson was well-learned, though--never room with a friend or relative, particularly as a freshman. The whole point of going away to college is to find your own identity, not be trapped into the one that everybody else wants you to have.
6. What was your first job?
I worked at a winery in Salem, OR, during my sophomore year in high school doing data entry (no, sadly, it was not a wine-tasting gig). My cousin's then-wife (this is a different, male cousin) worked there and got me the job, but they didn't have enough computers available for me to work during the week, so I had to go up there on weekends, usually by myself, and it was always so fricking cold in there, I guess because they had to keep the wine cold (duh). On one hand I enjoyed working by myself, but on the other I got so bored (much like my job today!) that I began to loathe it with every fiber of my being. After that one year I quit, using the excuse that I needed more time to concentrate on school work, which to be honest, I did.
7. What was your first car?
The first car I drove was a 1990 white Dodge Spirit. It was neither fancy nor hoopty, just a plain vanilla car that got me from point A to point B, with very economical gas mileage. The first car I actually owned, though not purchased by me, is the same car I drive today--a 1996 dark purple Ford Contour, which has now become a death trap and is pretty much gasping its last wheezing, grinding death rattle. If the car doesn't figure into my own demise somehow, I will be very surprised, since it seems unlikely that I will ever be able to afford another one, and will have to drive this one until either it or I expire on the freeway.
8. When did you go to your first funeral?
The one and only funeral I have ever gone to was my paternal grandfather's when I was six years old. I barely remember it. My attitude at the time seemed to be, "So he's dead. When do we eat?"
9. How old were you when you first moved away from your hometown?
I was 15 when we moved from Boise, where I had been born, to Salem. That sucked some serious testacles for someone who was as socially retarded as I was (am). I'm secretly convinced that that move precipitated my inability as an adult to settle in any one place for longer than one year at a time. Whenever I dream about being at "home," that home is usually the house I grew up in.
10. Who was your first-grade teacher?
Mrs. Spets. She hated me, because I was an ugly emotionally distraught anxiety-ridden little puke-face who would burst into tears at the first sign of trouble. I don't blame her for disliking me.
11. When you snuck out of the house for the first time, who was it with?
My friend Michelle and I were encouraged to sneak out by two popular girls in our neighborhood, Jennifer and Misha, when we were in sixth grade. We used to go to people's houses and ring the doorbell, then run away and hide, thinking we were fantastically funny. My mom caught on to us one night and deliberately freaked the bejesus out of us by following us in the car verrrrry slowly. The headlights were blaring in our eyes so we couldn't see who it was, and we were of course convinced that we were going to be kidnapped or raped. After we increased our speed from a quick, nervous trot to an all-out, hell-bent-for-leather sprint, she finally had mercy on us. I never once snuck out again, though that was mostly because I had no reason to.
12. Who was the first person to send you flowers?
Other than my mother? Why, BF, of course.
13. When was the first time you got drunk?
The summer after my senior year in college. Yes, you read that right--my SENIOR year. What the hell was wrong with me? I was such an uptight little bastard for such a long time. *Sigh* All those good party years, wasted. Anyway, my friends Jess and Jeni came over to my sublet one night and thought it would be a good idea to get me drunk and I acquiesced. So we drank wine coolers (remember wine coolers?), and I eventually got drunk, and then Jeni started putting the moves on my roommate Jason, who at the time I liked. They ended up dating for awhile and even got engaged. Don't know if they ever actually tied the knot, though. But don't feel too sorry for me--I got her back by going out with her ex-boyfriend for, oh, more than seven years now. Needless to say, Jeni and I no longer keep in touch.
14. What was the first thing you did this morning?
The very first thing? Probably cough. Then sniffle a little, then go to the bathroom.
All I want for Christmas
9. To magically be transported back to my early college years, and to tell myself a thing or two about the world. First of all, I would tell myself that it's OK to get a little drunk once in awhile and kiss a boy or two. Then I would tell myself not to be a English major, because, honey, there ain't nothin' you can do with that. Would my college self listen to me? Probably not, because she was such an anal-retentive douchebag.
Anyway.
Meme of Firsts
1. Who was your first Love?
Unfortunately, sad to say many of these will feature the answer of "BF," since as I embarrassingly reported in an earlier post, I have only ever dated one person. The same holds true for this one. If we'd like to include first crushes, on the other hand, the first crush would probably be a kid named Darren I really had a thing for in the sixth grade. I can only vaguely remember what he looked like. Either Darren or Corey Haim. I was 12--shut up.
2. Who was your first kiss and when?
Again, BF. I am such a dork. It was our first date, which would have been September 17, 1999. I think the first kiss was actually at Owen Beach in Point Defiance, which is in Tacoma. Ahhhh, Tacoma. Can you smell the romance?
3. Who was your first date?
The aforementioned BF. Before Owen Beach, we had dinner at Grazzi, an Italian restaurant in Old Town. I had a delicious salmon dish. Sadly, the restaurant is now closed...I guess we'll always have the memories.
Wait!
I lied! My first date was actually a few weeks before I went out with BF--a friend of his asked me out and we went to The Keg (mmm...Keg.....*drool* *drool*). Nothing happened with that one, obviously, especially since the guy lived in Vancouver, WA--about a 2 hour drive to the south--and he was coming down with strep throat at the time. Also, we didn't have very much to say to each other.
4. Who was your first prom date?
I never went to a prom. I never went to a single dance in high school. Do you think I missed out on anything? Other than getting to wear a pretty dress, me neither.
5. Who was your first roommate?
My cousin Missy. I attended Southern Oregon University for one mostly-regrettable year, mainly because I was too afraid to branch out on my own. After one semester, however, my life came into focus and I hastily got the hell out. The lesson was well-learned, though--never room with a friend or relative, particularly as a freshman. The whole point of going away to college is to find your own identity, not be trapped into the one that everybody else wants you to have.
6. What was your first job?
I worked at a winery in Salem, OR, during my sophomore year in high school doing data entry (no, sadly, it was not a wine-tasting gig). My cousin's then-wife (this is a different, male cousin) worked there and got me the job, but they didn't have enough computers available for me to work during the week, so I had to go up there on weekends, usually by myself, and it was always so fricking cold in there, I guess because they had to keep the wine cold (duh). On one hand I enjoyed working by myself, but on the other I got so bored (much like my job today!) that I began to loathe it with every fiber of my being. After that one year I quit, using the excuse that I needed more time to concentrate on school work, which to be honest, I did.
7. What was your first car?
The first car I drove was a 1990 white Dodge Spirit. It was neither fancy nor hoopty, just a plain vanilla car that got me from point A to point B, with very economical gas mileage. The first car I actually owned, though not purchased by me, is the same car I drive today--a 1996 dark purple Ford Contour, which has now become a death trap and is pretty much gasping its last wheezing, grinding death rattle. If the car doesn't figure into my own demise somehow, I will be very surprised, since it seems unlikely that I will ever be able to afford another one, and will have to drive this one until either it or I expire on the freeway.
8. When did you go to your first funeral?
The one and only funeral I have ever gone to was my paternal grandfather's when I was six years old. I barely remember it. My attitude at the time seemed to be, "So he's dead. When do we eat?"
9. How old were you when you first moved away from your hometown?
I was 15 when we moved from Boise, where I had been born, to Salem. That sucked some serious testacles for someone who was as socially retarded as I was (am). I'm secretly convinced that that move precipitated my inability as an adult to settle in any one place for longer than one year at a time. Whenever I dream about being at "home," that home is usually the house I grew up in.
10. Who was your first-grade teacher?
Mrs. Spets. She hated me, because I was an ugly emotionally distraught anxiety-ridden little puke-face who would burst into tears at the first sign of trouble. I don't blame her for disliking me.
11. When you snuck out of the house for the first time, who was it with?
My friend Michelle and I were encouraged to sneak out by two popular girls in our neighborhood, Jennifer and Misha, when we were in sixth grade. We used to go to people's houses and ring the doorbell, then run away and hide, thinking we were fantastically funny. My mom caught on to us one night and deliberately freaked the bejesus out of us by following us in the car verrrrry slowly. The headlights were blaring in our eyes so we couldn't see who it was, and we were of course convinced that we were going to be kidnapped or raped. After we increased our speed from a quick, nervous trot to an all-out, hell-bent-for-leather sprint, she finally had mercy on us. I never once snuck out again, though that was mostly because I had no reason to.
12. Who was the first person to send you flowers?
Other than my mother? Why, BF, of course.
13. When was the first time you got drunk?
The summer after my senior year in college. Yes, you read that right--my SENIOR year. What the hell was wrong with me? I was such an uptight little bastard for such a long time. *Sigh* All those good party years, wasted. Anyway, my friends Jess and Jeni came over to my sublet one night and thought it would be a good idea to get me drunk and I acquiesced. So we drank wine coolers (remember wine coolers?), and I eventually got drunk, and then Jeni started putting the moves on my roommate Jason, who at the time I liked. They ended up dating for awhile and even got engaged. Don't know if they ever actually tied the knot, though. But don't feel too sorry for me--I got her back by going out with her ex-boyfriend for, oh, more than seven years now. Needless to say, Jeni and I no longer keep in touch.
14. What was the first thing you did this morning?
The very first thing? Probably cough. Then sniffle a little, then go to the bathroom.
All I want for Christmas
9. To magically be transported back to my early college years, and to tell myself a thing or two about the world. First of all, I would tell myself that it's OK to get a little drunk once in awhile and kiss a boy or two. Then I would tell myself not to be a English major, because, honey, there ain't nothin' you can do with that. Would my college self listen to me? Probably not, because she was such an anal-retentive douchebag.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Somebody please shoot me
I have to get a root canal on Monday.
All I Want for Christmas
8. A completely new set of teeth. From genetically regenerated tissue or something.
All I Want for Christmas
8. A completely new set of teeth. From genetically regenerated tissue or something.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
I hate the world.
I suck. You suck. The entire world sucks, because this week I am dealing with a head cold that won't go away, a bum leg, and today I have a dentist appointment. I have another physical therapy appointment on Wednesday, and next week I have yet another PT appointment, as well as another appointment with the illustrious doctor. Bah! Humbug. And undoubtedly the dentist will find many things that need to be fixed, and so the fun little appointments will continue on into infinity, sucking my money, my time, and my will to live.
Here's the thing: nothing is getting any better. I have felt like poop with my cold since last Thursday, and every day I wake up feeling exactly the same, like I'm drowning in my own mucus. My leg still hurts, which no amount of stretching or exercises seems likely to fix, since my PTs are convinced that the problem stems with the way I walk. Let me tell you, trying to fix the way you have walked for 29 years without some sort of external device to help you is basically impossible. The thing is, my right leg naturally wings out to the side when I walk, instead of straight ahead like most people's, giving me a natural turn-out like a ballet dancer's (I wish). I don't know why I do this, but it's just the way I've always walked. However, the PTs want me to correct the problem from the hip down, by rotating my hip ever so slightly forward, not just by pointing my toes straight ahead. Let me ask you, have you ever tried to tell your hips muscles to rotate forward seven degrees, and have they actually obeyed you? It doesn't work. Those muscles are not really voluntary muscles, at least not as far as walking goes.
And I've been gaining weight since I haven't been able to work out as much, due to both poopy-head-cold-drowning-in-mucus feeling and bum-leg-won't-work-right syndrome. It's just all so damn frustrating. Anyway, sorry to dump on you. On to the list.
All I Want for Christmas (or whatever I was calling it)
3. To wake up one morning in Eva Green's body (new Bond girl). She's pretty, she's thin, and she's French. She also seems tall, though I have no hard data to back this up. What more could I ask for?
4. Failing no. 3, to grow five more inches in the middle of the night.
5. The ability to excell at a sport of some kind, preferably marathon-running, tennis, swimming, cycling, or ice skating. I would also accept dancing.
6. Marriage or at least a relationship with Colin Firth, but not Colin Firth the real-live person, it would have to be Colin Firth acting in the character of Mr. Darcy; either the Pride and Prejudice Mr. Darcy or the Bridget Jones' Diary Mr. Darcy would be OK. (The BJD Mr. Darcy would probably be preferable, because then I wouldn't have to explain the 21st century to him and pesky things like that.)
7. A house. Not a big house, just a modest dwelling that is more or less in good shape and has all the modern conveniences. This house should be located in the Pacific Northwest, and as long as I'm dreaming, it may as well be in Vancouver. And I may as well go for the gold and say it should be located in Kitsilano.
OK, I think I'm caught up on the list for now.
Here's the thing: nothing is getting any better. I have felt like poop with my cold since last Thursday, and every day I wake up feeling exactly the same, like I'm drowning in my own mucus. My leg still hurts, which no amount of stretching or exercises seems likely to fix, since my PTs are convinced that the problem stems with the way I walk. Let me tell you, trying to fix the way you have walked for 29 years without some sort of external device to help you is basically impossible. The thing is, my right leg naturally wings out to the side when I walk, instead of straight ahead like most people's, giving me a natural turn-out like a ballet dancer's (I wish). I don't know why I do this, but it's just the way I've always walked. However, the PTs want me to correct the problem from the hip down, by rotating my hip ever so slightly forward, not just by pointing my toes straight ahead. Let me ask you, have you ever tried to tell your hips muscles to rotate forward seven degrees, and have they actually obeyed you? It doesn't work. Those muscles are not really voluntary muscles, at least not as far as walking goes.
And I've been gaining weight since I haven't been able to work out as much, due to both poopy-head-cold-drowning-in-mucus feeling and bum-leg-won't-work-right syndrome. It's just all so damn frustrating. Anyway, sorry to dump on you. On to the list.
All I Want for Christmas (or whatever I was calling it)
3. To wake up one morning in Eva Green's body (new Bond girl). She's pretty, she's thin, and she's French. She also seems tall, though I have no hard data to back this up. What more could I ask for?
4. Failing no. 3, to grow five more inches in the middle of the night.
5. The ability to excell at a sport of some kind, preferably marathon-running, tennis, swimming, cycling, or ice skating. I would also accept dancing.
6. Marriage or at least a relationship with Colin Firth, but not Colin Firth the real-live person, it would have to be Colin Firth acting in the character of Mr. Darcy; either the Pride and Prejudice Mr. Darcy or the Bridget Jones' Diary Mr. Darcy would be OK. (The BJD Mr. Darcy would probably be preferable, because then I wouldn't have to explain the 21st century to him and pesky things like that.)
7. A house. Not a big house, just a modest dwelling that is more or less in good shape and has all the modern conveniences. This house should be located in the Pacific Northwest, and as long as I'm dreaming, it may as well be in Vancouver. And I may as well go for the gold and say it should be located in Kitsilano.
OK, I think I'm caught up on the list for now.
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