being hot and frustrated isn't nearly as much fun as being hot and bothered.

a few minutes ago i was working on writing email #15 or so today to the people i'm working on a group project with. we're trying to set up a meeting time and it's just not working. i really like my group but we're not making any progress in the deciding on a topic for our project that's due in eight weeks department. currently i'm a wee bit frustrated about the lack of progress being made concerning setting up a meeting. also, the emailing is taking up precious time i should spend writing a paper but would rather spend eating chocolate or sleeping. no matter, i don't have time for any of those things right now.

alvin was sitting next to me on the couch while i was typing this email and it was becoming obvious that i was annoyed because i was threatening to give up and was perhaps banging on the keyboard a bit more than necessary. he eventually asked if i was frustrated and when i asked if it was that obvious he said: yeah, i can feel the heat radiating off your skin.

oh.

i'm still frustrated and radiating heat, but i've been relegated to the other end of the couch so that i can wallow in my hot frustration alone.

cr@ck is wh@ck.

tonight i was zoned out watching "i love the 80s strikes back" on vh1 and i wondered how my life (and tv) had been reduced to such lameness. this wasn't even a best of the 80s show or a where are they now? kind of program. it was all about the crap the 80s produced--and crack is the only worst example i can remember, which is sad considering it was only 30 minutes ago and i know they showed music videos horrendous enough to rival the awfulness of crack cocaine. i think forgetting that particular decade is probably for the best, which makes me wonder why vh1 keeps insisting on reliving it and i keep insisting on watching.

i was resigned to having a completely lame evening until they started dissing inspector gadget and then i was all, oh no you didn't. it was only then that the cheesy neon graphics started to annoy me. i wish i could say that i turned off the tv and did something more interesting, something that actually required some thought, but no. but that was a defining moment if only because it made me realize that i was too freaking tired to change the channel.

that's the whole point of this post, really. to complain about the exhaustion--what better reason to update my blog than to complain? exactly!--and the pms that has caused me to eat so many pounds of chocolate this week that i've already lost count. i thought about it, and if i go to bed now i'll invariably wake up at 11 and not be able to get back to sleep until way after midnight. that's mostly how i got to be this tired in the first place. well, that and alvin tossing and turning and stealing the blankets and waking me up in the middle of the night to answer a question i asked two days ago. it makes for unpeaceful sleep.

a few of the web searches that lead to moi*

hot tarsier on lemur action
is deviance a good thing?
facts on deviance
deviance be a good thing
number keeps calling my phone
why people go postal

i realize i'm perpetuating the problem, but i had to see hot tarsier on lemur action again.

*many of the more interesting searches originate in other countries using some version of google that is way cooler than the google i'm used to. and by way cooler i mean it actually leads poor, unsuspecting googlers to my blog.

happy spring break to me!

last night alvin ordered what should have been my v-day present but is now more like my spring break present, since it won't arrive until three to four weeks from now. but i'm not complaining. not since he ordered it, anyway.

also, i'm very sad to hear that yesterday's story about the tom & katie breakup is perhaps a tiny bit untrue. hard to say, though, since the original story says that they're keeping up the appearance of being together until the end of this summer. i really shouldn't be this invested in their relationship...but the obvious brainwashing, it's scary. this is like the real life version of rosemary's baby and katie/rosemary is having the spawn of satan. not good.

the v-day suckage.

aside from it being a present-less valentine's day--i'm complaining only because I WAS TOLD THERE WOULD BE GIFTS!!--ok, aside from the being lied to about the gifts part, today is sucking* because of this:

this morning after getting out of bed and dragging myself into the bathroom to empty my very full flea-sized bladder, i realized that there was no toilet paper on the TP roll; there was just a sad brown shell of cardboard where it should have been. now, there was toilet paper when i went to bed last night so i can only imagine that the mysterious TP fairies must have stolen it during the night. so i reached from the where i was perched on the toilet over into the cabinet situated right next to the toilet where the TP lives to get some more. this shouldn't have been hard but i still ended up pulling the shoulder muscle of the arm i was using to reach with. that was not a happy way to start the day, and i'm thinking it wouldn't have happened if someone had replaced the toilet paper roll when it ran out instead of leaving me and my defective arm to deal with the problem. but no. i pulled a muscle while replacing toilet paper.

*i'll let you people know if today gets better.

edit: my day just got better!! woo hoo!

don't mess with the pig.

cindy put up a picture of my favorite pig comparing her to mariah or mimi or whatever her name is now, and it reminded me of how awesome she is so i just wanted to include a pig pic for my personal viewing pleasure. no, not like that.


there's this one scene in muppets from space where she says she has to pee and then runs upstairs to go, and every time i see it i'm all, oh, a pig after my own heart! sigh.

Q & A/game

question: what's better than spending the evening at a party with alvin's ex-girlfriend?

answer: spending the evening with two of his exes! wheeee!

the party wasn't so bad, really. it was a going away party for ex #1 and she invited her ex-boyfriends so it all evens out in the end, right? i think there's some parallel there, i'm just not sure what it is. anyhow. things were awkward until i quit caring. the only thing i cared about was my pants not splitting down the seam. see, i'm wearing a very old pair of corduroy pants (like 10 years old) and i love them and refuse to give them up, but years ago they split right down the middle when i was bending over one day and i've stiched them like half a dozen times now--twice this week--and now every time i want to wear them i have to sew up the hole first. i know, it's sad. tonight i was afraid i was going to bend over or stand up and hear that familiar riiiiipppp sound, at which point i would have died of embarrassment because it would have meant that i lost.

but my pants didn't rip and my hair was prettier than hers. i can quit holding my breath now.

spreading more love: the i hate valentine's day post.

it has come to my attention that maybe i should update my blog more often. i totally agree! however, i just want to say that i really would have posted something interesting already if there was anything interesting to say. i'm tired of looking at the monica post, too, just so you know. speaking of, psycho scary woman hasn't called since last week. i think. i mean, my phone's off so i don't know. this means that at the very least i haven't yet received any new monica messages and that's almost as good as her not calling, right? i'm all about the avoidance. i'm seriously afraid of my phone since it became possessed with the monica demon.

i have a paper due on valentine's day, the fake holiday that i love to hate and which i might like a tiny bit more if i ever got flowers or candy or cards or an acknowledgement that i exist or anything. the dislike started in middle school when the popular/loved people would get oodles of flowers delivered to them and i went home empty handed because obviously no one liked me. by high school the dislike had turned to hatred and valentine's day was such a distraction that the school had to ban flowers from being delivered to class during the day. instead, the school library was converted to the flower-holding room and people were given notices that they had flowers so after school they'd line up to get their stupid bouquets. this sucked for several reason, not the least of which was because it was all very public and you could totally tell who was loved and who wasn't. also, no one was allowed in the library because the flowers were all in the way. what if i wanted to check out a book? i couldn't! hello, popularity contest. goodbye, education.

one year in high school i was all excited because i had a boyfriend and that meant one very important thing: v-day flower entitlement. the boyfriend said he was going to order a bouquet to be sent to me at school but, sadly, my flowers never arrived for reasons i don't remember. all i remember is that i waited for a flower notice all day and when it didn't happen i was slightly disappointed, where disappointed means i might have cried a lot at the unfairness of it all. i just wanted flowers like everyone else! and this is why high school is evil.

now i buy myself flowers.

but i digress.

i have a paper due next week so i'll probably fret over the paper writing much like i did my grad school statement of purpose, though this time i only have a week to write it so that should limit the number of angsty blog posts between now and then that i can write about not being able to write. at least in theory.

to the woman who keeps calling the wrong number.

dear monica,

thank you for leaving that long message on my voice mail last week. i now know that your name is monica, so when i tell the story about the woman who keeps calling my cell phone and won't leave me alone i know how to address you. i no longer have to call you "that woman" or "psycho lady who can't understand she's calling the wrong number." sadly, since my cell phone is never on, i didn't get your latest delightfully crude message until today. it totally made my day even though it scared me kind of a lot.

at first i thought you were calling me on accident. i mean, you are, but you're having a hard time grasping that fact. i assumed after the first time you left a message and i didn't return your call, you would realize your mistake. and then that one day that i was at the movies with my friends you called five times and left a couple of urgent! voice mails. honestly, i didn't know you could leave an urgent voice mail and i was mildly freaked out that maybe there was an emergency with someone i know, but no. you again. you wanted to know why i wasn't returning your calls. and i thought, hmmm, next time this woman calls i need to tell her she has the wrong number.

miraculously, or perhaps not since you call me every five minutes anyway, right after i had that thought the phone rang. and it was you! i politely explained you had the wrong number. you said you were sorry, i hung up the phone, and it immediately rang again. i don't know why you felt the need to bitch me out that second time; after all, you were the person making the mistake and hadn't we just gone over the part where you were calling the wrong number? all i did was answer my phone when you called me. again.

i'm not sure why you argued with me that my cell phone number couldn't possibly be my number even though it quite clearly belongs to me (isn't that the source of the problem?). you said that a year and a half ago my number belonged to the person you were trying to reach, and it seemed to set you over the edge when i told you i've had this number for two years. you were so insistent that i actually doubted for a moment that my cell phone number was mine! you insinuated that i had stolen the phone from whoever you thought was supposed to have it. how crazy is that?

i hate arguing, by the way, but your allegations were so ridiculous that i had to defend myself. it was only after the end of that call that i realized maybe you were dialing the right number with the wrong area code. no way in hell was i going to call you back to tell you that, though. i tried, but it's not my responsibility to make you understand; it's obviously a difficult task and not one i feel like undertaking.

that argument a month ago with you, the insane stranger, is why i turned off my cell phone and haven't turned it on since. and today, when i was expecting a call and turned it on and saw that hey! i have a voice mail, i had completely forgotten about you. but there you were. you didn't forget me!

i listened to your message--yep, the entire thing--and would like to set a few things straight:

*you still have the wrong number
*my name is not kim
*i am not a bitch ass ho, nor am i doing bitch ass ho shit
*i did not accuse you of stealing my food
*we have never eaten sausage together, or any meal for that matter
*i am not trying to break up you and floyd
*i am not a fucking n*****
*if you are going to say such awful things in a voice mail, make sure you have the right number.

also, my voice mail only records a message for three minutes or so and you got cut off after that truly horrible thing you said above. that was alright because by that time i got the gist of your complaint. i'm still sort of amazed that you managed to be angry for that long on the phone. me, i would have started to feel silly--and perhaps regretful--leaving this message right around the bitch ass ho bit.

monica, you scare me. if i were kim (i'm not!) i would be very afraid and probably change my phone number. but that's just me. i don't like confrontation. so please quit calling me, because i'm afraid that if i accidentally answer the phone next time you call, you're going to make me cry. and then i'm going to have to change my number anyway. much to my friends' dismay i already dislike my cell phone and rarely use it. please don't make me have to get rid of it.

sincerely,
the wrong number

ps--i hope you don't know where i live. you might insist that someone you know used to live at this address and that could only mean one thing: i stole their identity.

proud to be shallow!

kate-berry asked nicely that i update my blog with a new post and a title that doesn't include any references to body part inspired rope art. so. here it is.

school is much easier than i anticipated (i know i'm going to regret that but for now: school is easy). i finish my readings every week, go to class, listen to lectures, take notes, talk to people, and now i wonder if i'm totally zoned out in my happy little easy world, or what, because everyone i've talked to who has a master's degree, they were all like omg! grad school! it was SO HARD!

granted, this is only the third week of school, but still. i could probably have a part time job and it still wouldn't be that hard. maybe i'm just that smart? yeah? i actually feel like a slacker because most of the people in my cohort both work and go to school & me? i'm not working.

i explained to my friend ian about how i haven't fallen over dead from the workload yet, and he said (verbatim): what did you expect? you're getting an MSW. this is the same guy who, when he was helping me study for the GRE, told me i needed to quit freaking out about my scores because i didn't need very high scores anyway. to ian's credit, he also tutors GMAT, LSAT and MCAT students, so maybe he has a point about the GRE not being very hard and admission to the MSW program being comparably less competative than, say, law school admission.

and not so much to ian's credit, he's got this rabbit named fred that he bought in korea, and even though he speaks korean there was some miscommunication about fred's dietary needs and ian was under the impression that fred didn't require water. obviously this was wrong, and somehow fred survived on just vegetables for a year until he caught her (fred's a her; ian can't determine rabbit gender either) licking the condensation off a water glass one day and thought that hey, maybe animals do require water after all! the point of that story is that ian has lots to learn about mastering the korean language & rabbit care, but he's actually quite knowledgeable about standardized tests.

anyway, the most difficult part of school so far has been the socializing bit, because i hate to make small talk but how else do you get to know people you've never met? gah. also, the hair part. everyone in my classes has prettier, longer hair than i do, so i stare at hair for three hours at a time and i'm like, i want her hair! or, why can't my hair be pretty like that? and then, why am i the only person in here with short hair? and THEN i wonder where all these people are getting their jeans that so obviously fit. i don't get it.