Sure, the one thing he doesn't have...

I mean, I know there hasn't been anybody menstruating in that house since well, my mom left in 1983, but honestly, I didn't think that meant anything. But I guess it's okay to keep expense reports from 1968 but can we hold on to one box of Tampax? Nooo. I guess not.

So I finished the kitchen this morning, which I am now calling my kitchen because I may just decide to stay in there it's so pretty. Like seriously. They'll have to rent it with a redhead sitting on the floor in the corner. It's all eggshell and clean and I cannot wait until the doors are back on the cabinets and it will be so pretty!!!

And now I've realized a teensy weensy little baby problem with this whole fixing-it-to-rent-thing.

Um, I don't want to do the rent part.

In my head I'm fixing it for me. And then I realize that some other losers are going to be eating breakfast and *gasp* showing in my shower for like five years while I write about how maybe a well-timed nuke could have saved the world a hell of a lot of trouble by just wiping Northern Ireland off the map.

(No, for reals. The nationalists hated the unionists. The unionists hated the nationalists. The nationalists wanted to be Irish. The Irish didn't want anything to do with the nationalists. The unionists wanted to be British. The British wanted nothing to do with the unionists. And then Tommy Makem wrote a song and confused the whole damn matter and wow, Ireland really didn't want Northern Ireland back. OH MY GOD JUST BE NORTHERN IRISH ALREADY HOW DID IT TAKE YOU UNTIL 1999 TO FIGURE THIS OUT. GAH.)

(Yes. Yes, I did just pick the single most frustrating twenty-five years in western history for my focus. I enjoy pain.)

Anyway, there will be other people in my kitchen. And my bathroom. And my pretty white bedroom. DO NOT WANT.

This is like buying a fixer-upper and then letting somebody else sleep in your pretty new fixer-upped bedroom. I have never been very good at sharing. I'm not any better now.

But the kitchen! Pretty!!!

(I'm taking the linen closet, btw.)

(No way are Hypothetical Gay Couple kicking their gross little Hypothetical Gay Toes into my linen closet.)

I tire of this.

I have a pretty high pain threshold. Don't get me wrong, I still whine. A lot. Like, all the time. About everything. But not usually about being sick or in pain or anything. I mean, I literally haven't not had a sinus headache a single day since July, I have a pinched nerve in my back that must be a thoracic nerve because it hurts every time I breathe in (thank you, Dr. Moyer and your physiological psych class of doom, but at least I know where my pain originates from now), and I swear to God I have endometriosis. None of this really bothers me.

But oh, my, God, the head cold. I want to die. DIE.

So there was supposed to be studying and imperialism flashcards and maybe some rambling about how Belgium totally took over the Congo and omg, not cool, Leopold II, what the hell, man? But there wasn't. Instead there was some cuddling with a quilt. And some sneezing. And some Office-watching. It was funny. Really funny. The sneezing? Not so much.

Le anyhoodles, my colds usually go through phases, and I really hope that today marks the end of the runny nose thing, becuase I will be spending tomorrow in a drafty house doing manual labor, and I really, really do not relish doing that with a swollen nose.

Really. Really not.

A severe lack of television.

Morena is not amused. As I do not feel like watching a half hour Obama orgasm, my viewing choices are limited to ABC and...um...Discovery Health? Maybe?

(Although if you do want to watch a half hour Obama orgasm, knock yourself out. My main problem with it is less that it's not the guy I want to win and more OH MY LORD A WHOLE HALF HOUR??? SERIOUSLY??? You've been campaigning since like 1995 already, what more could there possibly be to say??? *ahem*)

And I seriously laughed when I read this article, because, um, my reaction today- at 21- would be exactly the same as that little Obama girl if my father were running for President and bought air time during primetime.

Oh, hell no, Daddy. I don't care if you think you can save the nation, you will not preempt Pushing Daisies.

Thankfully, Pushing Daisies is going to be on. Even though it's a stupid ratings decision because it's dead already and putting it up against the most popular candidate ever omg, not smart, ABC, not smart. But I don't care, because I need something to watch.

Courtesy of Everyone On the Bus

Dear Annoying Couple,

Hi there. I'm the girl sitting in the seat across from you, scowling. Yes, that's right. I'm scowling at you. Not at the bleak sky, or the fact that I'm sick of school and just really want to go home, or even at the twelve people who are scowling at me because I do not think that Barack Obama is Jesus returned to us in a more region-appropriate skin color and choose to tell UWM the world about this through a button on my bag. No, I'm scowling at you.

Because the bus? Is not cuddle time.

It is not the appropriate place to nuzzle each other. It is not the appropriate place to lightly kiss, grinning widely. It is not the appropriate place to mumble incoherently into each other's (ungroomed) hair. It is not the appropriate place to grin smugly and condescendingly out at the rest of us poor losers without someone slobbering on our jackets (And yeah, we're all staring. And not with envy.) It is emphatically not the appropriate place to lie down on his lap and then just...cuddle.

All of these things are nauseatingly okay to do in the comfort of your own apartment/back of the car/underneath a bleacher when your roommate/mom/parole officer is out of vomiting distance.

But definitely not okay on a bus. Some of us are already nauseated and our rapidly plunging electrolytes might not be able to handle one more Eskimo kiss.

Also rather inconsiderate. The bus is crowded. There is a guy standing. If you are going to sit on each other's laps, would you please just do so and allow that poor guy to sit down, instead of having to slide underneath your butt as you lean in for another nuzzle? (He didn't, I'm just saying that's what would have had to have happened.)

So please, Annoying Couple. Please save the making out until you exit the rear of the vehicle. The student population thanks you.

Love,
Morena

Capitalism took a hit today.

I'm sitting in Hebrew Studies, pretending to study my Hebrew like a good little shiksa, and all of a sudden the professor begins whining about capitalism. And how this whole American experiment has totes failed and we seriously need to switch to socialism, which, in it's pure form is totally awesome and yeah, communism didn't work so well, but this! This will save us!!!

There are three Republicans in that class, and we all kind of huddle in the corner. And we all just looked at each other like, "what the...???"

Let's ignore for a moment the fact that socialism will never be practically implemented for the simple reason that if it is practically implemented, it will never ever work. NEVER. Let's instead focus on the fact that this is a Jewish civ class. And yeah, it may be a stereotype, but I'm fairly certain that the Jews? THEY LIKE CAPITALISM. A LOT.

Oh, and he was ostensibly talking about the transition from the period of the judges to the period of the kings, and how they threw off this whole broken system thing. Except the analogy totally breaks down because they were transitioning from a totally broken system to a not-much-better-and-oh-yeah-quite-possibly-completely-mythical system and the United States is...um...not.

Then I get home and Germ is keening in the corner because he has to talk about how Thoreau Emerson feels about 21st century capitalism in slightly more eloquent words than *headdesk*.

And wow, I almost hauled myself over to my local Democratic Party of Wisconsin headquarters and signed up to volunteer because MY GOD I will become socialist if it will make that assignment go away so I can turn the sound on for Chuck.

Yeah. The invisible hand? Was missing today.

Okay, 17 Kids and Counting is my new favorite show.

I freaking love to hate the crazy fundamentalists. My mom wondered how I knew they were fundamentalist. I replied that um, they were just reading Scripture in the car. I'm betting they think the Exodus was real too. (And let me tell you, after eight years of homeschooling, I have seen my fair share of women in long skirts who were fairly certain I was going to hell because I think breastfeeding is gross.)

Apparently, kissing before marriage is wrong. WRONG. SIN. OH MY GOD YOU WHORE OF BABYLON WRONG. (Again, I actually had a "health" book tell me that boys should save their kisses for the girl they were going to marry.)

So instead the newly engaged couple (who are both younger than me *barf*) just walk around holding hands. Sometimes both hands. Constantly. ALL THE TIME. Seriously. In the car, looking at the (disgusting) house, while buying a car, hanging out on the couch, ALL THE FREAKING TIME.

And wow, please just throw down and make out already because the hand-holding SO ANNOYING. Gah.

See? SEE? This is why you need a real religion! Without two millenia of doctrine set down by people (who at times- I'm looking at you, Middle Ages- were totally gung-ho on the whole sex issue) you come up with crap like this.

And then I am forced to watch your crack-like TLC show.

Again, not good.

Oh, Sarah. Why are you making this so difficult?

Helpful Tidbits of Information from "The New Information Please! Almanac, 1949 Edition".

I ran out of paint and had no choice but to go through books. From when there were only 48 states. I also have a sheaf of pictures of the atomic bomb destruction that references the Manhattan Project on the cover with my grandfather's name. And I am really trying hard to remember that that's what we had to do, but wow, that's a hospital that was just destroyed.

Anyway:

There are no Muslims or Islamic people in North America. There are, however, 1,400 Mohammedan people. Also, 50,000 Primates. I don't know what that means.

The English Civil War began in 1946. Huh. Because I could have sworn that it began in 1642.

There were no individual Olympic medals awarding in women's gymnastics, but six in mens. Boooring.

There was something called "Lawn Tennis", which requires six pages and apparently is regular tennis but way gayer.

The term "cold war" was still placed in quotes and not a proper noun yet.

The Berlin Airlift was going on, and therefore the only part mentioned was the part where Stalin locks down Berlin.

"The Security Council took stern action under Chapter VII of the Charter to stop the fighting in Palestine between Jews and Arabs." Good work boys.

Ulster is apparently only the six counties in Northern Ireland.

Great Britain controlled the Gold Coast, Uganda, Kenya, and Nigeria.

All history prior to 4000 BC is "nebulous", and the Egyptian civilization had it's start during this period. We think.

In 1300 BC Moses led the Jews out of Egypt. For shizz.

Wisconsin had exactly 23 Japanese.

3,437 single children and 13 sets of twins were born to mothers between the ages of 10 and 14. NO I AM NOT KIDDING.

Senility kills approximately 10,027 a year. Who knew?

There are no legal grounds for divorce in South Carolina.

In Louisiana, a man can get remarried a year after his divorce, but a woman must wait 22 months.

In Utah, a shooting range is a legal method of execution.

I am a riddle wrapped in an enigma.

Okay. For the past three months, I have been imploring you, my friends, indeed even random people on the street to never ever buy anything you will not use in the next month. Like that laundry detergent that advertises sixty loads? Unless you do two loads a day, BUY A SMALLER SIZE. Seriously.

But not today. Today I would like to put forth the idea that it is helpful if you stockpile batteries, aluminum foil, dishwasher detergent, and light bulbs. I know, right? Unlike me. I'm going somewhere, though, I promise. Stay with me.

Because my grandfather apparently enjoyed buying these things in large numbers and then stashing them in a scary little hole in the basement. Which I always avoided like the plague because um, scary little hole.

But today I was all geared up to be responsible and get the kitchen ready to paint, but when I went to plug in my iPod, I discovered that I had left the speakers on yesterday and they were all out of batteries. *woe* I was not painting without my tunes. Trashy Euro technopop is the only thing that keeps me from stopping to think long enough to actually feel anything in that house. "Self," I thought, "I'll bet Grandpa has some batteries. Perhaps in that little hole in the basement." And lo! There were batteries! Lots of batteries! When we run out of batteries at home, we usually live in darkness or without speakers or walk across the room to change the channel for like two weeks because we never ever have any batteries and Target is like all the way at the end of the road. So I brought those batteries home.

Then I realized that I could completely avoid my trip to Target that I had to make! Because I needed aluminum foil and Cascade! And I found both of those things in the little hole! It was awesome!

So thank you Grandpa for buying more crap than you could use in your 91 years of life. Because your kitchen looks awesome now that I was able to paint with my iPod on.

(The rule still holds for anything that looks like a bronze basket, a marble egg, or a coin. Those things- NEVER EVER BUY.)

I apologize in advance for the shouty caps lock post.

NO ONE WILL EVER LOVE ME.

BECAUSE I AM GOING TO FAIL COLD WAR.

AND I DO NOT CARE. BECAUSE I AM TIRED AND BURNED OUT AND WHEN I OPEN THAT NOTEBOOK MY BRAIN SHUTS DOWN.

GAH.

I did totally hit the African art history midterm out of the park earlier. And I could pretty much not show up for Ireland tomorrow and still do well, so maybe they'll let me adopt even if no one will ever love me.

UGH. GOING TO BED NOW.

I know a lot of idiots...

...and yeah, I can kind of totally believe this story.

My generation should not be allowed to vote, drive, or reproduce.

As though UWM didn't screw me enough ways.

They came up with a new one!!! One that took away my debit card! And caused me to freak out a little bit and drive all the way to frickin' Cedarburg!

So a friend of mine was actually taken advantage of and had her debit card stolen and yada yada yada. She called me and was all um, yeah, you should totally check this out in case yours was taken too. I freak out a little, log onto my account, and OMG THERE ARE TOTALLY A BILLION CHARGES FROM THIS WEEKEND WHEN I WAS NOWHERE NEAR UWM. *hyperventilate*

My mom I called Erica at the little hotline and she said yeah, this totally looked like someone stole the numbers. So I cancelled the card, won't have a new one for like two weeks, and then hop in my car and hurry over to my nearest bank to fill out this affidavit pronto because I have to find time tomorrow in between studying for Ireland, studying for Cold War, studying for African art, and oh, yeah, PAINTING, to go to the UWM police and report that there was totally a STUPID PERSON who TOTALLY TOOK MY CARD NUMBERS *WOE*.

And then my little personal banker person was like, "Well, the university holds all their charges and only posts them once a month. So these could all be from the last month. That may be your problem."

WHAT THE HELL UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN? You are dealing with hundreds of thousands of moronic young adults! Young adults who have never had to balance an actual checkbook and have been raised on digital statements. When I put something on my debit card, I expect it to show up within a few days. I do check my statement regularly, and I always know about how much I have in my account, but let me tell you, I usually do not plan on a month's worth of food being withdrawn on a single day.

So now I have no debit card for no reason, and I've discovered that I spend entirely too much money on muffins. From now on we're skipping the coffee.

Gah. Stupid people. Ten more years and I'll be finished with you.

***

Meanwhile, I got a lot of work done at Grandpa's. While I was not paying attention in art history (Blah blah Afro-Portuguese, used ivory, evil conquistadors, blah blah, I got it, okay?) I made a weekly plan (lacking last week, seriously impacted my productivity), and totally got everything done on the Monday thing today. Whoo-hoo.

Also? I went to Mass this morning and the homilies, they have been speaking to me lately. Not in any terribly enlightening spiritual way, but rather in a wow, have you been reading my blog? kind of way. Because this one was about how you kind of should get rid of stuff that you don't use anymore and it's not fun if it accumulates if you live in a house a long time.

Um. Yeah. I know.

The real sin isn't not helping people by giving them stuff that they could use that you aren't, but rather that WHEN YOU DIE YOUR PROGENY IS GOING TO HAVE TO GO THROUGH EVERYTHING. And then paint it an appropriate color.

One day, even my children are going to tire of this.

My Lord. Since September, this has been one long "I'm sick and tired of life and why did you have to go and die and leave me with all this gah hate the world but thank God I don't have to work double shifts at a restaurant because adding a part-time (should be full time but you know there is school and actual work and that laundry that doesn't stop even though I've told the Boy he could stop bathing really, I am so beyond caring) job on top of everything else is so much easier than that ever could be" post. And wow, I apologize. So boring.

*ahem* Not bitter. Really. Not bitter at all.

During the homily today the priest was talking about how he bought his parents' house when they passed away and now his sister lives there. And I really, really wanted to know if he had any other siblings that would be okay living in an old person's home because really! Lovely property right there in the North Shore! Less painting I have to do the better! I may start killing people soon!

Then I worked. It was work. They paid me for it. I'm okay with that.

Sadly, this non-update must now come to a close because I have to go attempt to figure out the difference between Djenne and Dogon horsemen figures. Oh, it will be a wild time. We may even move into the Tyi Wara masks. I know, right? Don't get too crazy.

Things I Discovered Today

1.) Painting a wall balancing on a ladder on a landing? Less inconvenient that previously assumed.

2.) Painting a bookshelf? More inconvenient than previously assumed.

3.) No electricity? Way more inconvenient than previously assumed.

4.) My cabinets look fantastic.

5.) I do not want other people touching my beautiful Euro spacesaver vanity. It is mine and it is beautiful and I do not want Hypothetical Gay Couple brushing their teeth in it. Would it be inappropriate to ask them to bring their own?

6.) Keelin is a way better hostess than I ever will be. I hereby bequeth the metric assload of hostessing-type things I've acquired in the past few months to her. Because when we do movie night you're lucky if there's ice cream in the freezer. When she does, there is trifle with chocolate-covered strawberries.

7.) Denny from Grey's Anatomy is decidedly not Irish.

8.) OH MY GOSH DO YOU KNOW WHAT REMOVES PAINT ON YOUR SKIN??? NON-ACETONE NAIL POLISH REMOVER THAT IS WHAT. I mean, you have to wash it off really fast because I'm not sure what it does to your skin if you just leave it on, but damn, it wipes it right off!!! I'm buying stock in Sally Hanson.

Oh, Lord, I should totally post earlier.

Today has been a long day. Beginning with when I had to drive the boy to school even though I didn't know I had to drive him to school because I was told I had to drive him to school while I was ASLEEP until when I finally collapsed on my couch with a screwdriver after painting several rooms, picking up several people in various counties, sitting at the DMV for an hour, or going to Menards. Oh, such a long day.

And I have to work at eight tomorrow. I'm going to go to bed. Good night.

The things I would do for a cookie.

I have an hour break on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I spend it sitting in the hallway of the Union, usually freaking out about whatever test I have coming up or vaguely feeling sentimental because zomg my mommy totally sat here too!!!

Today, today was bad. There was a career fair in the ballroom. Despite the fact that this was generally disheartening to me as a.) I have no career, b.) probably will never have a career, c.) and we're back on law school, d.) there are pretty people wearing tailored suits and that depresses me, and e.) WHY HAVE YOU TAKEN ALL THE CHAIRS PRETTY PEOPLE WITH TAILORED SUITS!?!?!

But much, much worse than this- there was a lunch room for the exhibitors. Right across from where I was sitting. A lovely lunch room filled with sandwiches! on croissants! and cookies! Oh, God, the cookies. Those of us plebeians who are working retail halfway through degree one of five and eating yogurt DO NOT APPRECIATE THIS.

Mary and I spent a good half an hour watching people go in and come out with beautiful free sandwiches. I never understood those flyers that people would thrust into my hand as I was walking to the bus, advertising whatever movie/concert/talk/orgy was going on this week and then at the end it said free food! "Pssh," I would scoff. "As though I am immature enough to be bought with the promise of free food."

Oh. Oh, no. There were guys leaving that room with cookies. And several times I thought to myself, "Meh, he's not hideous. I would do almost anything if he'd bring me a sandwich." Worse still were the women who would saunter their lovely little size-two selves out with MY COOKIES. As though they needed the cookies. They probably haven't eaten a cookie in two years. They cannot enjoy the cookies. THEY DO NOT DESERVE THE COOKIES.

"Wait. Are you still on this?" Steve pondered. Um. Yeah. Welcome to life.

Then Colleen showed up and offered to take her clothes off and give them an exhibition, because she really didn't want to buy lunch.

P.S. I'd like you all to ignore the fact that my sister, my friend, and I all just offered various degrees of prostitution for sandwiches. Because it's not that flattering.

It's a freaking convent, show some respect!

Tonight on Pushing Daisies Ned is wicked hot and vulnerable and filled with daddy issues. And wearing a Roman collar. I'm now like ninety percent certain I'm going to hell.

(AHAHAHAHA. "Stupid ass." Teehee.)

Oh dudes. So tonight I went to some conscientious voting talk thingy given by some moral theology professor. It was interesting and all, blah blah blah. But there were these women who were spectacularly rude and yelly and screaming and cut-offy and would not let him finish a damn sentence and wow, ma'am, I'm against abortion too but could we dial it down like six notches???

Supremely awkward and kind of hilarious.

A disturbing bout of narcissism and more embarrassing revelations.

I enjoy knowing who reads this page, so I stalk myself myself pretty regularly. Way more independent hits than I thought, and somebody from Western Finland. And also, three different IP addresses have found this post by Googling "jon and kate plus 8 republican". Huh. Intriguing. I wonder if they are republicans? They seem kind of fundamentalist, but I'm not sure. I'd google it, but apparently I have already said everything there is to say on the subject. Yes. Morena is now an oracle. Like that cool chick from the third (and in my humble, seven-year-old opinion bestest ever omg) Aladdin movie.

Forgoing transitions this evening altogether, I would totally watch a Samantha Bee/Jason Jones sitcom.

And not just because he's currently like #4 on my list of Guys on Comedy Central That I Have Inappropriate Crushes On. (Shut up, I'm not weird. There are entire message boards that I totally do not frequent full of people who I totally do not have anything in common with who are much crazier than me.)

I just found out that they were married and seriously squeed. Their babies will be hilarious. Mark my words. The next generation is all set.

Speaking of inappropriate feelings, I am totally awake and even watching Without a Trace and Steven Weber isn't even on this episode. Gah. Boo. Poor form, Mr. Weber. I stayed awake until 9:14 for you. GOD.

Well. Now I can go to bed.

Maybe I'll scrap the plan to major in Jewish studies.

While the days off are pretty cool, we spent a huge chunk of time in class today discussing the fact that the book of Joshua is basically a big metaphor for sex. With a harlot. Named Rahab. Which means wide open. *snicker*

Strangely enough, my Bible didn't have any of these comments in the notes. Apparently the Catholics aren't as into the imaginary sex references (that I have yet to be convinced exist, and I have a filthy mind) as those crazy Protestants/Whomever Publishes the Jewish Study Bible. Mine just had clarifications about the original Hebrew. Boo. Boring New American.

Anyhoodles, this is why I'm focusing New Testament. Sex there is pretty much ignored save for Not-Mary-Magdalene and the "divorce her quietly" and what is talked about is OMG SO BAD. This is an attitude my little repressed self is way more comfortable with.

I didn't say I was normal. But at least I know myself.

And not in the Biblical sense.

Where the hell is Colin Hanks when you need him?

I am so wiped out that I can't even get into Mad Men. There's too much talking and stories and...talking. My back hurts to much that I almost screamed when I had to bow my head at Mass this morning, and the pain of holding the blowdryer long enough to dry my hair made me cry.

I have flashcards for multiple classes, almost an entire notebook to memorize, and I have to talk about something in Hebrew studies tomorrow and I really, really do not want. I'm stressed and I'm cranky and I have a pimple on my chin.

Gah. I'm going to bed.

My birthday Hpnotiq is gone. It's been a bad month.

I'm not an alcoholic. Really. I'm not. But oh. my. Lord. At the end of my horrific, nausea-inducing, lose your faith in humanity, take up domestic terrorism or homicide or maybe even use your history degree to employ methods of medieval torture difficult days, mama loves a screwdriver. And Colin Firth movies on Oxygen.

STABITTYSTABITTYSTABITTYDIE.

Except for books, which are relatively easy for my grandchildren to haul to Half-Price Books and sell, I am never buying anything EVER AGAIN. Seriously. Or saving anything. I just cleaned out a linen closet and, yeah, I'm no longer buying anything I do not use every day. Lipstick? Seriously? I wear like three shades. The other 30 tubes I have lying around? YOU'RE GONE. You'll be lucky if I hang on to my credit card bill long enough to pay it.

I'm never painting anything EVER any color other than white. Because while my taste may be fine, I never want to make my granddaughter stand at the end of the driveway calling her friend, slightly tearfully, going, "Um, yeah, I know it's like nine o'clock in the morning on your one day off, but there are a jillion shelves and I'm scared and don't know what do to and can you please come and help me!?!?!?" And I know my grandparents didn't want that either because they loved me and I know for sure my grandfather at least would want me to be concentrating on my Cold War flashcards that I just abandoned on the floor in order to pursue Screwdriver #2 rather than, you know, his woodwork.

BTW, if Mary and Keelin ever need help cleaning a house? I'm there. I owe you guys. F'r reals. It takes a special kind of bond to say, sure, I'm going to stick my head into a cabinet full of oil paint because you're keening a corner mumbling something about how you should buy one tube of toothpaste at a time.

Oh my goodness. I haven't slept past six-thirty in two weeks, I literally almost lunged at several people at work today, and dear God, I need another screwdriver.

But first I need to write a critical analysis of the different South American revolutions/wars/whatever the hell else they were doing down there/I don't care, I'm an American imperialist/capitalist pig/leave me alone AND OH MY GOD I HATE THE WORLD.

I'm sorry. I really am. But I am at the end of my f***ing rope.

I've got nothing.

Because honestly, my wine bottle is the only thing preventing me from seriously burning some bridges all over the internets, so yeah, I'm ust going to keep hugging it and keep all my relationships intact.

So, this isn't good.

Att: The same woman who thinks "many" and "varied" mean the same thing.

My brother's English teacher thinks I'm a pessamist because I suggested that the "American" civilization that we are currently enjoying may be on it's way out.

And then I wondered if she had ever taken a world civ 101 class. Because we've been on top since 1945, and frankly, it's about time for things to fall. Rome was an exception. And that only lasted several hundred years. At one po. int the sun literally never set on the British Empire, and that only lasted from 1815-1914 (at the most liberal).

Also? SO NOT THE SAME WORD OMG HOW DID YOU GRADUATE?

*ahem*

That was my rant for the day. I'm going to bed now. Good night.

For once, I'm not loving the history part.

I normally love the history part of everything. No matter what class, I like figuring out what was going on at the time and how the influenced things. Unfortunately, I'm taking a history of constitutional law class. In this case, I much prefer the law part to the history. But hey, whatever.

So today I go bounding into class because we are scheduled to watch a video. Frankly, we do not watch enough videos in 400-level history classes. I am thrilled. I find a seat in the back row, towards the corner, perfect for some inconspicuous reading if the video should get slow (and let's face it, chances are it will), and settle in. This will be a lovely, low-impact 75 minutes.

The professor fiddles around with the VCR for awhile, and then writes the name of the video on the board. "Huh, I think to myself. "Simple Justice"? That sounds familiar. Kind of. Eh. Maybe I just saw it on the syllabus or something."

Then she starts the show. And the credits look...well, I think I've seen them before. This is weird, as I don't spend a lot of time watching PBS docudramas on Brown v. Board of Education. Then I realize that I've seen the ENTIRE thing before. It was required for my '60s class last year, but it was too long to watch in class, so she put it on hold in the library and we had to go beat off other members of the class and then watch it there. So I spent two and a half hours in a carrel in the AV viewing room (which is a bitch to find, let me tell you) one afternoon last year watching this whole damn thing and now I have to watch it again?

I figured I could at least read during it. No such luck. The professor sat down right next to me. Ugh. It was such a bummer. Except that Uncle Phil from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air played Charles Howard. And when he came on the entire class went "Uncle Phil!!" It was amusing.

I feel this may get old by the second half on Monday, though.

The debate?

It's stultifyingly boring punctuated by glorious moments of awkward (like when Brokaw and Obama nearly had a little bitch fight over the timed responses) and then mostly boring again.

Also? My guy is clearly not doing well. Where the hell are Sarah Palin and her media-distracting pumps when you need them???

I mean, yeah, she could field dress a deer sooner than sponsor legislation, and no, she doesn't know what the Bush Doctrine is, but she's so adorable!!!

Ugh. I'm going to bed.

There may be small brush fires.

I suppose, in theory, I should be upset that there is a teensy weensy possibility of, ooh, explosions due to my inability to function at my highest rate after being stuck on a ladder in a unventilated kitchen inhaling oil paint fumes for an hour. The finer points of exactly how spread out things need to be, well, they probably would have been comprehended by those neuron pathways that were killed halfway through the second cabinet.

I'm just guessing.

Also? It is COLD. And CLOUDY. And while I would normally love this, I want my shelves to DRY DAMMIT I HAVE A VERY LIMITED AMOUNT OF TIME HERE.

Oh. My head. It spins.

The thought of my fingernails bursting into flames makes me laugh, though.

It's a thing.

Sundays are pretty dry here at The Agony and the Ecstasy. At best I'm tired and cranky, at worst I'm pretty plowed, too. Either way, I do not care to talk write about...anything. Once the exclusive property of vaguely amusing cat pictures, now they've turned into political sketches.

So tonight on Let's Mock Sarah Palin In A Vain Attempt To Quell That Horrible Feeling When You Realize That You're Actually Voting For Her Sundays, Let's practice your bewildered silence, and SNL's opening, "Oh, are we not doing the talent portion?"

Ahahaha.

And a lovely happy 19th to my Empress, who is not, as she so eloquently put this morning, "A year closer to that! *gestures at old couple walking into church*, but rather young and pretty.

There will be no title.

On a day where I don't work eight hours, spend lunch not actually eating anything but rather hunched in an unfortunate position for all of Fox Point to see while smearing Killz on shelves, return to smear Killz on the other side of shelves, discover that huh, the sun really does dry things faster than my standing there swearing at them, and then start to cry in the gas station parking lot, yeah, then there may be a title.

But not tonight.

I'm drinking. Heavily. As we have previously established, I didn't eat today. I feel slightly ill. Just a little. I may go to bed soon. Maybe.

See y'alls tomorrow.

Witness My Personal Devolution.

A few months ago, when I first inadvertently took over as Imperitrix of Painting, I was very uncomfortable with the getting paint on me part of it. I was careful to scrub my arms and legs in the shower before I left the house, and by the time I changed back into my regular clothes I was perfectly Killz-free. When I got home, I would wash my hair, lest anything have touched it.

Then a couple of weeks ago I figured hey, it's cold out, I'm wearing socks and boots. It really doesn't matter if there are splotches on my feet. But my arms and legs were still scrubbed clean long before I left the house. The hair, not so much.

Two weeks ago, I decided that I was wearing pants, and oh, my God, the effort to scrub my legs-so not worth it. I did my arms though- please, I'm not an animal. Two days later, after repeated scrubbings, I still had streaks on my thighs and I was planning on wearing a skirt. Meh, I thought, I'm just going to Mass. If anyone is going to see those streaks, we've both got much bigger problems than paint on my thighs.

Today I effectively threw paint all over myself, arms, legs, hair, feet, you name it, there was paint on it. (Including my bra and panties. I don't know how that happened, because this was decidedly not sexy body paint but deeply unsexy dead grandparent's kitchen cabinet paint.) I barely washed my hands. What? I was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, and hey! I even picked most of the paint out of my hair before I got it cut, I am not an animal!

Yeah. I shudder to think what I'll be reduced to by next Friday.

(I did get my hair cut, though, and it's lovely if I do say so myself. And free landlord advice. It was a good afternoon. )

Live-Blogging the VP Debate

8:01- The first and only? Really? I'm guessing when NBC gets the ratings for this, there will be more. Deal or No Deal has been on for like sixteen years now, and Howie Mandel has never asked on of the briefcase girls how she felt about Iran.

8:03- No untoward outbursts. *snicker*

8:03:30- I love Palin's suit. And...she just asked to call Sen. Biden Joe. Oh, God. I'm feeling nauseous. But the suit! Gorgeous!

8:04- Boo. Boring economy. I know I'm poor, you can shut up about it, Sen. Biden.

8:05- I am so totally sure right now that Biden has had a facelift. Look! The wrinkles go up at his eyes!

8:05:30- First "betcha" of the evening. I smell a drinking game.

8:07- Oh, please, Sen. Biden, if Jon Stewart hadn't pointed out the nine o'clock/eleven o'clock thing, you wouldn't have noticed.

8:08- Maverick! Another drinking game!

8:09- My mom said that Palin looks so much like Tina-Fey-as-Palin that she's waiting for the funny part.

8:09:30- "Neither of you really answered the question." Oh, Gwen. I like you- you're funny.

8:12- She's said "darn right" twice now. I'm trying to like you Gov. Palin, I really am! But you have to work with me here.

8:14- Palin announces that she will not always answer the the questions the way the moderator wants, but will talk straight to the American people and tell them about her record. Apparently she has never been to a debate before. Aka, the moment the election was over.

8:18- She is adorable though. "That's where Todd and I have been our entire lives...*cute little overbite smile*"

8:19- Good point about the healthcare. Because I do not want this government controlling that. Frankly, they have not exactly proven themselves.

8:21- "Ultimate bridge to nowhere." Oh, snap, Sen. Biden. The audience, despite being warned against outbursts, just went, "ooh". Ahaha.

8:23- It appears that both of them are answering the "What promises are you going to break?" as though it was "What promises are the other guy going to break?" And Palin just said she took on somebody. *sigh*

8:29- Oh, my God, Sarah. Would you please stop grinning like an idiot? And you, Joe. Stop being an ass.

8:30- Climate change. *crosses fingers* Okay. Apparently, Alaska feels it more. She doesn't want to argue.

8:32- Really, sir, climate change is the biggest difference between your campaigns? I really, really do not agree.

8:36- OH MY GOD THEY ARE NOT CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHTS. I am all for gays and lesbians being able to do whatever the hell they want; in fact, I think it's downright nasty to keep them from visiting each other in the hospital. But nowhere in the Constitution does it say ANYTHING about ANY RIGHTS LIKE THAT.

8:46- I vote that Pakistan is more dangerous. When that shit goes down- and it will, believe me- I do not want to be around.

8:52- Has anyone told Gov. Palin that the Palestinians actually did not perpetrate the Holocaust? I'm just wondering.

8:54- Yes, let's just all go hug Israel. That makes it all better.

Meh. I tire of this now. I got a fantastic score on my Ireland test this morning- ten bonus points and the highest score. And then I promptly ran out of time on my Imperialism test. Oh well. I was happy in Ireland.

Finally, for your viewing pleasure-

I have something entirely new to obsess about.

On CSI:NY, two people die from radiation poisoning that they got from the toxic mold growing in a the special collections room of the library.

It would be my luck to get radiated while studying. I would die in grad school. Oh. My. God. How. Depressing.

*headdesk*

I celebrated my Rosh Hashana break today (I've decided to change my major to Jewish studies- the days off are amazing- all that happens on my holy days is I have to figure out a time to get to Mass. Pssh.) by scrubbing cabinets.

I have spent a significant portion of my life in that kitchen, and I could have sworn for the life of me that there were like two drawers and couple of cabinets. Oh. Oh, no. There are cabinets all over. High cabinets. That are hard to reach. And drawers. Oh, the drawers. So many drawers.

That house is like the frickin' Tardis. I always have a perfectly lovely and reasonable plan, and then I get there and look around and feel like just walking right back out because somehow the rooms, THEY HAVE MULTIPLIED.

Bitchin' storage, though. And given my genetic predilection for saving, oh, everything, I'm not unimpressed.