Friday, August 31, 2007
First I thought about feverishly mapquesting Omaha (if I leave right now, could I make the encores???).
Then I thought, "Wait. If it were me, and my pregnancy, and my unborn baby; would I miss a Josh concert?"
And I honestly think the answer would be no.
I am a horrible person who will rot in hell.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
I was understandably squeeling and wigging out and maybe jumping up and down and drooling over my keyboard, and Colleen comes over to see what the
"Isn't it like the hottest thing ever!?!?!?!"
"Um...it's a picture of Josh. With a light behind him. And snow."
Looks like we're back to my fandom being crazier but in no way superior to her fandom.
It is clearly so much more than a picture with snow and light. Gah. She just doesn't get it.
Also some major shit going down on the boards, because it looked like Barnes and Noble and amazon.com, who both offered the "special edition" for preorder, had sold out. *shock and awe*
But then people started getting e-mails from the websites that the distributors had decided not to release a special edition.
Even though the Barnes and Noble stores *are* still accepting pre-orders.
And nobody from Josh's camp is saying anything.
This is not good.
If there is something that these women like less than the thought that Josh is the same age as their grandsons, it is being kept out of the loop.
They are not amused.
Personally, I'm not too worried. These are CDs that aren't set to be released for a month and a half. If they know they can sell a million more copies, they'll make some more. It's a disc of plastic.
It left me with one major thought though---
Thank you God that Barnes and Noble and not Borders got the rights to this. The Harry Potter thing almost killed me. I couldn't deal with irrate Grobanites calling the store for the next month who want to know WHERE THEIR CD IS RIGHT NOW OMG. And I know that all the phone calls would get tossed to me. Because my fandom cannot be silenced, and everyone I work with knows that I would do anything, including commit perjury (You may think this is farfetched, but I've actually been asked to do this for someone---and not someone whose babies I want to have. I'm just saying.), treason, or mortal sins for Josh. (Well, maybe not the bordering-on-graphic last part, but I'm sure they have a pretty good idea.)
I'd have to quit.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
My mom was at the gynecologist for me the other day (What? I don't like hugging people. You think I'm going to get behind anything that involves stirrups and a speculum??? I think not.), and the woman practically dragged me out of the waiting room in order to get my Gardasil vaccine RIGHT NOW BECAUSE YOU ARE BEING SO IRRESPONSIBLE OMG. *sigh*
For those of you who have been following butterflies in the rain forest for the past two years and have yet to see the pervasive commercials involving alarmingly young women playing jump rope and singing about cervical cancer, Gardasil is a vaccine that protects against HPV, a sexually transmitted virus that can contribute to the cause of cervical cancer.
I have a myriad of problems with Gardasil.
On both superficial and deeper levels, the advertising bugs me. I'm pretty sure that in order to get cervical cancer, you need a cervix. And I'm also pretty sure that that first person on the commercial (the one with the skateboard?) was born a man. But that's just me.
I think they're marketing it irresponsibly, as a cancer drug rather than something that prevents an STD. I know for a fact that there are some stupid women out there who think that because they had this, they're protected and can stop going to the doctor. That really bugs me.
Second, for me, it is entirely unnecessary.
Although everyone refuses to believe me, I am not having sex with anyone. My doctor practically chortles when I respond negatively to her constant "You know you should get screened, right???" before finally giving me a quick lecture about condoms as though I were not a twenty-year-old woman who has, in fact, been though health class and eats lunch next to the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Society, the group that thoughtfully provides a bowl of them.
(Yes. My doctor thinks I'm a stupid whore.)
Even my eye doctor was surprised I wasn't on the pill. (Don't be skeeved out that I was discussing birth control with my eye doctor, it was a whole long thing about some prescriptions causing eye dryness.)
Supposing there were a reason for it, because it would be naive and ridiculous to think that no one was having sex, or if I bought into the whole "better good for the community" thing (Which I don't. I'll look out for my body, you watch yours, mmkay???), this is a brand new drug. The long-term effects have not been tested or proven.
My grandmother took some drug that they all thought was safe, and my mom wasn't sure she could have children because of it. Uh-huh. I'll have enough problems with that as it is.
And the whole maybe-making-it-mandatory thing? It just makes me get all Betty-Friedan-circa-197. I want to burn my bra and scream "keep your government off my body!!!"
Yes, I realize this may seem slightly incongruous for a girl who has, in fact, stood on the corner with an "Abortion is murder" sign.
Hey, you don't go to a Lutheran university for a couple years and not pick something up.
So there you have it. My multi-point treatise on why I will not be paying 900 dollars for the privilege of injecting myself with untested chemicals for something I do not, and will not, have.
Also, I'm pretty sure I embarrassed my dad. Again.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Why Jack Keruoac, Joel Osteen, and Marvel Comics can take all their books and shove them up their road-tripping, stupidly grinning, zombie asses.
Task #2 was a 50th Anniversary of On the Road endcap. By Kerouac, whose last name none of us ignorant fools staffing the bookstore could pronounce.
Except we were out of all the books that were supposed to go on it.
Leaving me to come up with titles that go with it to fill the numerous empty spots.
Oh. Lord. No.
American lit is NOT my thing. French, Russian, British, sign me up. I can even tell you who liked whose writing and who thought who was a crock. But anything written by an American I probably haven't read and if I have I probably hated it.
So do you know what's on my Jack Kerouac endcap??? The two solitary copies of On the Road that we did actually have, travel journals, and Kurt Vonnegut, who has nothing to do with anything except he's also weird and dead.
When I go in on Tuesday, I really hope someone has taken it down.
In the last twenty minutes before I got to leave, I had to do a teensy tiny Joel Osteen display. Which wasn't too taxing, except that I really, really hate Joel Osteen and his smileyness and his hot wife. Although with the number of his crappy books I've sold I think I know why he has a hot wife. There's a lot of money in faux spiritualism, apparently.
Just one link today, because I'm sitting outside (yay for notebooks!!!) and it's starting to get windy. Also, my tirade against the publishing world has taken up about half of my battery power.
Holy Christmas on an ocean liner, Josh sings Ave Maria on Noel. *is dead now*
ETA: My quest for correct grammar may be going too far. Our neighbor is teaching his son-in-law to use the dirt bike (don't ask) and just said "You're doing very good." And I had the almost uncontrollable urge to yell across the lawn, "WELL!!! HE'S DOING WELL!!!" *sigh* As though we aren't unpopular enough.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Today on Cuteoverload.com...no, no, I'm kidding, just cleaning out the icons.
Now please hold your astonishment, but I do not have a whole lot to comment upon today. Nothing terribly worthy has happened lately.
Except I went to lunch at Panera yesterday, and the power went out as soon as I walked in. So I went to Noodles instead.
With the literally unwashed masses from Bayside, Whitefish Bay, and Fox Point.
Teh Storms Of Teh Apocalypse (it's been a slow summer here in southeastern Wisconsin) had knocked out most of the electricity along those power grids. Lots of knotty hair and cranky kids.
Good food, though. And it was with my one friend who isn't getting married, having a baby, or doings something fantastic. (Not that Caitlin's life isn't fantastic, but you know what I mean...)
As I am living at home, alone, and probably couldn't get impregnated with a damn turkey baster, this was comforting to me.
Who knew I used to hang out with a pre-slutty crowd???
Missing Romanov bodies found? Dammit! *I* was supposed to find them! And write my dissertation on it! And set the historical world on fire! And probably run away with my hot, newly-rich-because-of-my-discoveries professor/advisor/colleague!!!
(Okay. I just added that last part. But it's very Indiana Jones, don't you think???)
*sigh* Fine. I guess if I can't discover them myself, I'm glad they found them so the Anastasia foolishness can finally end (It was Marie, dumbass. Vertebrae don't lie.) and they can all be laid to rest together.
More KidNation crap. Now, I'm not a mom, but I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't sign anything saying that the fruit of my womb could be harmed, screwed, and killed all for a TV show.
Even if it meant I would be invited to CBS events with all the CSI stars. No, really.
Well played, Luciana Bozan Barroso Damon. I love Matt Damon. So hard. Not in the way I love Johnny Depp or even George Clooney (we'd get along fine if he'd just keep his damn mouth shut), but I would totally marry him and have him donate some "killer DNA to my womb", as the girls on gofugyourself.com so astutely put it.
Oh honey, no. Alan. Darling. Do you know what I put up with for you??? The ribbing, the jokes, the "Oh, you wouldn't like him, you're weird? Why do you insist on continuing to make this difficult for me?!?!?!?
Gah. The things I'll do for love.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
I usually kill the first half hour hiding in the history section salivating over all the Alison!Weir!Goodness! or organizing the stuffed animals in the kids section by character. God knows what would happen if Big Bird and Elmo weren't in the same bin, across from Dora the Explorer, completely separate from Spongebob!
Le anyhoodles, today I am assaulted practically at the door by Pam, in a tizzy because they need to redo the staff picks selections.
Otherwise known as, The Corner With All of Kathleen's Books. Perhaps because I'm disarmingly sweet, or I read a lot, or I'm really good at bullshit (Debutante Divorcee? Sucked majorly, but you wouldn't know it!!!), Pam recruits me for staff picks pretty much every day I work. I don't really mind, but this led to the inevitable "Hmm. What shall I review today???"
I read such a variety of stuff, from chick lit fluff to Russian tomes, and I always struggle to choose.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Saturday, August 18, 2007
I'm down with that.
Especially if Daniel Craig can watch.
Also? Nicole Kidman is a stupid whore who doesn't deserve to be a woman. You dump MY Mr. Knightly and are friends without benefits with Bond??? You disgust me.
Friday, August 17, 2007
I knew that Livejournal gave all the socially-disabled, heavily-medicated agoraphobics a place to pretend to have normal, real lives with normal, real friends.
I didn't realize that they all had book deals.
When I picked up Jen Lancaster's Bitter is the New Black at work one day (Because let's face it, it was pretty and I had very little else to do.), I was genuinely surprised that she had a blog. It's freaking hilarious, but I was surprised.
Then I followed some of her links, and they all went to blogs of women in their twenties and thirties who write books that are basically extended blog entries. Thanks to the privilege that comes with my
And THEY'RE BEING PAID FOR IT.
I could do that.
Now, I realize that most of these people are so popular that they have to disable comments because everyone cares so much about their lives. If I disabled commenting, my mom would have to call upstairs to tell me what she thought (which she does anyway because she never remembers her password), and Mickey would have to call me, but still.
Tuition's due, and I'm looking for anything slightly more respectable than prostitution. Not much, I'd strip if I thought anyone wanted to see it. But it's been a long summer of concrete mixers, so I'm thinking not.
I'm off to go see Invasion with Colleen and John, because
Thursday, August 16, 2007
It's not even so much the other person part that bugs me I mean, it's uncomfortable, but sh's my sister, so at least I'm used to her filth. (Kidding. She bathes almost every day.)
I give you- the Funniest. Lolcat. Ever.
Monday, August 13, 2007
No estrogen-fueled craziness today. Although I was on the boards at midnight last night. So I think that counts.
My living room.
On my laptop.
I am pleased. Poor, but pleased. And also slightly faint from when I tired to make the internet work, but neglected to turn on the wireless switch and then I kind of had a slight coronary issue. With my complete and utter inability to make thing that plug in work, I was thinking that perhaps I spent a lot of money on a desk weight. I would not have been amused.
Now, some people in my family *cough*Spawn of Mickey 1*cough* received massively expensive laptops for graduation *cough*reaching the appropriate age*cough* from high school *cough*somebody's basement*cough* to use during their illustrious career at the prestigious University of Minnesota *cough*five weeks*cough* and then proceed to lose them *cough*stolen at an illegal poker game*cough*.
I am not one of those people.
Which is why the next time I see London will be when I marry Josh Groban and he takes me there for our honeymoon. Ha.
Other than spend my unborn children's inheritence, I didn't accomplish a whole lot today. I was totally going to clean and fold laundry, the my brand new widescreen is totally way more fun.
Oh, and I played Colleen's secretary for awhile, setting up advising appointments pretending to be her mom, and haircuts, and reordering contacts. You may all marvel at my display of sibling assistance. I rock.
Except then I realized that I would have to kill time at UWM for a hour while Colleen and her real mom were being advised. Crap.
National Treasure 2 trailer. I know it's cheesy, and totally not tru, but I. Love. This. So. Much. I cannot wait. It will be awesome.
I'm going to go eat.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
So, Minnesota was amazing. Josh was amazing. The Steely Dan/Toby Keith/Halo music/Dana stuff we were forced to listen to the entire way there? Not so much. But I digress.
It took us forever to get there, probably because we stopped at every single bathroom between Milwaukee and St. Paul, and then drove around the UW-La Crosse campus for awhile. One of Colleen's prospective-but-can't-afford-it schools. There are a lot of those for us in the middle class.
We got to the hotel really late on Thursday, and were all cranky and tired and quiet (probably good because of the aformentioned crankiness), and just ate and stared in horror at the shower.
Oh. Was that just me?
Let's just say I came home and scrubbed out my shower. Yeah. Not pretty.
Friday we tooled around Minneapolis/St. Paul, crossing bridges despite my fervent protests that if God had wanted us to go to the other side of the river he would have put a nice little path of land across it and not expected us to come up with other hopelessly inadaquete ways to get across.
Went to a cathedral that was supposed to be like St. Peter's. Um. Except it's totally not.
I've had an issue with churchs based on European landmarks since I was forced to go to a Mass at the crack of dawn in Cincinnatti at one that was supposed JUST LIKE NOTRE DAME, OMG. Except IT WAS IN FREAKING CINCINNATTI. Does no one realize that all gothic and classical architecture is essentially the same? That in most ways, a gothic cathedral is of course going to resemble another gothic cathedral? That the whole thing that makes Notre Dame so amazing is that it's NOTRE DAME AND YOU'RE IN FRANCE? Not crazy, bloated, and ready to kill your family somewhere in Ohio (true story)???
Ugh. So in conclusion? St. Peter's without the Bernini/Michelangelo stuff but with a Hooters right around the corner? Yeah. Not as good.
The concert, however, was absolutely freaking amazing. Like I can't even begin to describe how amazing it was. It made walking four blocks in the 100 degree heat only to return to our original dinner choice, seated facing the wall like we'd been naughty and given a choice between a burger and calamari at some faux Irish place and then standing outside in the aformentioned 100 degree heat for forty minutes until they finally let us in totally okay.
And for those of you who know how I feel about a carefully constructed makeup face (because, you know, I was in the 10th row, he could totally see me!!!) melting, is quite a lot.
Imladris and I obsconded with with good tickets, of course, after carefully trying both sets out to make sure that they were not, in fact, in the back row and would not get to touch him during In Her Eyes, thus making me mad. They weren't, so we took the closer ones. I'd forgotten in the two years since I've had really good seats how much fun it is to really watch a performer (especially one as pretty as Josh) during a concert, and not just the general thing. You could see faces. And flap during the hand-clapping part of Weeping, which is when I lost the capability to speak.
He sounded great, and the whole audience banter thing was mostly the same (at least all the canned stuff, obviously). The "learning to dance" part was a little different, with Angelique asking if they could get dirty now, and then putting dollar bills down his shirt.
Yes. I know.
I almost died.
And the karaoke??? So funny.
I got home and checked the boards (immediately, because that's just he kind of crazy I am), and actually, the Grobanites are not too amused the turn these concerts have taken. He's gotten way more popular, the fan base in younger (for the first time, I wasn't the youngest in my section), and they're far more aggressive. They rush the stage like all the time, and apparently disturb things.
This is kind of a load of crap. Yeah, the women in front of me kept jumping up every time he came over, which was massively distracting, and I wish people would just sit down because it's way easier for everybody to see. But it's not that big a deal. And certaintly not as big a deal as some people make it out to be. Really, totally not a reason to not think the concerts are God's gift to people.
Some people are even whining existentially about how Josh is taking a new direction and it's different, and this just smacks of old women who are incapable of processing new information (as my sister, the AP Psych student, would say). Like when he did an interview and joked about booty calls and they all went batshit crazy.
No, really, that happened. It was freaking hilarious.
Also a load of crap. It was awesome. He was awesome. I want to go back. How far to Winnipeg??? I have a passport...
The final part of the trip merits it's own estrogen-fueled section, but estrogen-fueled for a totally different reason.
We stopped in Mankato on the way home- the Deep Valley of the Besty-Tacy books. Or, the Most Adorable Books Ever OMG. We found Betsy's house, and Tacy's (although we originally mixed them up), and what we think was Tib's, although that was privately owned so it did not have a convenient sign on it saying "Tib lived here". I would totally put one up, though, if I lived there.
We got to go into Betsy's house, which was unexpected because they're restoring it, and Tacy's had been turned into a little gift shop.
There was a bench up at the top of the Big Hill, but some rat-fink bastard vandals knocked it down. I'm sorry, but there IS A SPECIAL PLACE IN HELL FOR WHOMEVER KNOCKED OVER BETSY AND TACY'S BENCH!!! *ahem*
It was just the cutest things ever. I loved it. I'd like to move there. I'm totally naming my first daughter Tacy.
I even let Mom take my picture. *That's* how into it I was.
Whew. I'm tired. And I need to go school-supply shopping. I'll do a real update, not just ranting, tomorrow.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
If you would like to see part one of the craziness, scroll down. And be prepared to never see me the same way again.
Le anyhoodles, last night was amazingly awesome.
So awesome that I can't even really describe it. It's one of those things where if you were there than you know what I'm talking about and if you weren't you probably don't care/won't get it.
Except to say that he has spoiled me for every other male on the planet. If Johnny Depp propositioned me right now? I'd probably decline.
Okay. Maybe not.
Still. Normal guys? I'm sorry. You no longer hold any interest for me.
The music was absolutely amazing. Beautiful, moving, everything that his stuff is normally but like ten times better because it's FREAKING LIVE.
He's so adorable, and funny, although significantly less self-deprecating this time around. I'm kind of ambivilent about that. He's probably just getting tired of the crazy fan-grandmas.
The dancing thing? So cute.
And MY MOM TOUCHED HIM!!! So did Mary, but I was too far away. That's okay. I'd actually be kind of devestated if I met him in real life, because then in the Real World (unlike the Beautiful World In My Head Where We Have Lots of Sex and Babies), our relationship would be nonexistant. Which is a totally different than the nonexistant-by-reason-that-he-hasn't-fallen-in-love-with-me-yet that exists now.
Stop looking at me like that. I'm not crazy.
Bought tons of stuff, too. You know that Awake hoodie that I previously poo-pooed people buying because it was so expensive? Guess what I'm wearing as soon as it gets colder???
Also? The poster with him sitting on a bed. Hell yeah.
The one thing I didn't get was a t-shirt, and now I'm regretting it, because it was 85 degrees today and wanted to wear a Josh thing, dammit. I'll have to buy one on Friday. My problem with concert t-shirts is that they aren't fitted, and prior to last fall when I lost weight on the Live-At-Home-During-College Diet (works wonders, let me tell you), I wore such huge sizes that they didn't look good in public. But this time I want one I can actually wear.
I'm so looking forward to Friday night, but also kind of dreading it, because then it will be over. Hmmm. Going to have to pack a bunch of booze. Because we all know that's how I deal with Josh-related depression.
Just because I feel like it? Panda sex song.
I probably won't update until Sunday when I get home, so everybody have a good weekend!!!
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Hi! I just saw you in concert, and while I will post a full, undoubtedly caffeine-fueled recap tomorrow, I felt the need to write.
Because I want you.
Anything that will hold us.
So please, before you consider my sister- who went from being a repressed Catholic schoolgirl (And not in the dirty way- although, if that works for you, I probably could find a uniform. I did go through the second grade, you know.)known for screeching "Bad touch! Bad touch!!!" to a filthy whore in the span of like ten seconds when you can onstage, or Mary- who said that if she had gone with her boyfriend she would have had to dump him because there's no way he could ever be good enough, or, God forbid, one of those fat, post-menopausal women who wanted to grab your ass during "In Her Eyes", PLEASE CALL ME.
I'm young, not hideously disfigured, and yeah I guess I've put on a little weight since the gymnastics days, but at lease my ovaries still work, unlike the majority of your fans.
Also, since you sang Weeping and said "I'll be damned"??? I've aquired incredibly flexible morals. Just so you know.
Anyhoodles, looking forward to Friday. Love you. Bye!!!
Thursday, August 02, 2007
So haven't done ANYTHING for tomorrow yet. Like pick out clothes, make my bed (in a burst of industriusness, I washed the sheets. Yeah. That backfired. Now I have to put them back on.), or pack. Instead I worked until after ten, and then ate my chili rice that I hid in the crisper to prevent other people from eating first. I'm an evil genius. No one in my house goes in the crisper. Ha!