Because CBS does, in fact, own my soul.

In the Thanksgiving episode of How I Met Your Mother last year, Marshall asks an upset Lily if she wants to say anything before their meal, and she responds. "Nope. This sucks; eat up and and leave."

That pretty much sums up how I'm feeling about 2008.

You did suck, almost completely unequivocally (I did get a couple of rather cool DVD sets, but, um...no.), and I would like you to leave. Now, please. (No, really, now. It's 9:58 and I am tired.) 2009 isn't looking much better, I've got to say, but here's hoping.

I did manage to write every day but one, and since it was a leap year, I'm totally counting it. Okay. A lot of those posts were funny cat pictures or Colbert Report clips. They totally counted, and so help me God, you do not want to argue with me.

I will talk to you tomorrow. When I will have a lot of time on my hands, because apparently at 12:01 my Comedy Central and VH1 will be disappearing because Time Warner doesn't think I can come up with an extra quarter a month.

As though Pushing Daisies wasn't bad enough...

...Time Warner pulls various networks, including COMEDY CENTRAL, from their lineup starting January 1.

As in, I WILL NEVER SEE ANOTHER EPISODE OF THE COLBERT REPORT ON TV AGAIN.

(Or until both sides calm the frick down and settle this.)

I AM NOT AMUSED.

I love Colbert. So. So much.

Bill Paxton is trying very hard to be a serious actor.

In what is presumably an effort to make major nautical disasters more interactive, my local museum now hands out a card to everyone who goes through the Titanic exhibit. This card contains details of a person (helpfully separated by sex), such as name, age, class, and a short backstory. You go through the exhibit, get suitably depressed by the strains of "Never an Absolution" (Oh yes, they use the movie music at the beginning. I'm guessing My Heart Will Go On was too expensive.), and then at the end you get to find your person on a list and discover whether you lived or died.

Good times for the whole family!

I was a 22-year-old woman in first class, so I immediately cast myself as Kate Winslet. I was on a two-year honeymoon that was concluding with this voyage, and then my presumably wealthier-than-God husband and I would go back to being wealthy and not talking to each other. Ah, the kind of marriage I aspire to.

And I lived! I mean, I kind of suspected that as a young woman in first class, because my husband Carlos or whatever his name was (it was long and Spanish- whatever) would have, no doubt, forced me into a lifeboat because he loved me so much that he could not rest until he knew I was safe and told me not to worry, he would be along soon- we'll meet again by morning.

And...then he probably died of hypothermia in the North Atlantic.

But then I get to be a tragic widow who doesn't actually have to have any human contact but no one looks down upon for being alone. Like Not-So-Poor Madeline Astor, the actual 18-year-old who got knocked up by John Jacob and then got out of the whole thing with a baby and no husband. And THE ASTOR MONEY. Gah. Hate.

Anyway, fantastic exhibit. And a very good IMAX, which involved Bill Paxton trying desperately to make us forget about the Spy Kids movies. Oh, it was a good time.

Perhaps my brazen exhibitionism is wearing thin?

I don't think I have anything to talk about tonight. I could do my traditional year-end wrap up of my favorite movies, but a quick glance at my yearly collection of ticket stubs yields exactly ten tickets. Two of which were for the same movie (Mamma Mia- I must have misplaced the third, sing-along ticket), and another four of which are to movies that I really didn't enjoy that much (well, there's one that I threw away, because no way in hell am I admitting that I saw it). And frankly, there has been enough fangirl spewage about the Dark Knight all over the internet. So instead I'm just going to tell you to see Doubt- again. It's not just about sex abuse- I swear! It's about awesome wrapped in an atmospheric tale about the nature of certainty wrapped in more awesome topped with Amy Adams and her adorable little upturned nose.

Or I could do the most played songs on my iPod, but it's a rather disturbing mix of Rihanna and Fleetwood Mac. And I have taken enough mocking at the hands of my little sister today.

Work was even boring today. I mean, I got to do a Manga endcap and a romance endcap (Why do the women in all these books want to have sex with vampires/devils/Scottish men/random scary guys? Why??? And Manga. Unless I'm reading Hebrew- which I can't, so it's unlikely, I want my books facing left to right, got it?) and then order books for an entire Obama table, during which I had to gag several times based on the sheer "Yes we can!" of it all. Ugh. But it wasn't terribly interesting.

Oh well. Tomorrow I'm going to the Titanic exhibit- maybe something fun will happen there!

I put aside my deeply antisocial tendencies...

...and actually left the house tonight to see Doubt with Colleen and Eileen. And loved it so much that I would be totally okay with going back with Mary on Wednesday. I'm not going to spoil anything, but I officially heart Meryl Streep and Philip Seymour Hoffman, and they both deserve Oscars for their roles. Especially the last scene in the office- riveting.

And funny. You wouldn't think it would be funny, but it totally was.

The walking around, touch-feely homily part bugged me though. Not in 1964, stupid people. I wasn't around and I know that. Gah.

Team Jen

Oh, yes, I called it. When Colleen and I were ruminating on what Ms. Aniston would do for Christmas (because John Mayer doesn't seem to be a real Christmasy kind of guy), I decided that perhaps she would spend some time with the Cox-Arquettes. Colleen suggested that indeed, little Coco might love to spend the holiday with her godmother.

Because even though she's back to not wanting her mom to die a horribly untimely death, I'm not sure they're at that holiday place yet.

Hmm. I wonder what Brad and Angie are doing? Probably chilling in Africa someplace, watching qualified people do good works and then returning to the United States and looking down condescendingly at the rest of us poor fools who are lacking in unbelievably pouty lips and borderline creepy addiction to adopting underprivileged children from various continents (I think they're missing one from Antarctica. Collect them all!!!) because we have no idea how good we have it or how little we are actually doing to alleviate world hunger/poverty/AIDS/disease du jour.

I don't like them very much. Their preachiness annoys me to no end.

But then again, so does John Mayer. I face a moral quandary, readers.

It was, all things considered, a good Christmas.

I mean, yeah, it's been five months and I almost started to cry going to Communion today when I saw that his pew was empty (not a new revelation- but still).

But I did get a NAME, a book about the 1981 Belfast hunger strikes, and some steak knives. Oh, and, you know, the Son of Man and possibility of eternal life. So, you know, it all evens out.

My father is such a girl.

Merry Christmas!

A very productive day of procrastination.

First, can I just say that Godspell is on TV right now? And I am still loving the acid-trip gospel story aspect of it all, but I am still rather uncomfortable with SpyDaddy being Jesus in technicolor pants and a Superman t-shirt.

Second, Cousin Amy on 17 18 Kids and Counting is my favorite person in the entire world. I want to be friends with Cousin Amy. "Fearfully and wonderfully made"? I almost died.

Third, Colleen just announced that her dream was to be a preacher's wife like Victoria Osteen (now on Larry King). "It's too bad priests can't marry, because I would marry a priest and we'd get us a big church and I'd dress like that every day! Sittin' in the front row, hands raised, smiling like I'm listening...I could write a book! Oh, I could write a book." Mother would be so proud.

Okay. Christmas is in like two days, and we're having people over. So today I polished the silver, cleaned all the glass in the house, washed the Waterford glasses (Waterford tends to freak me out, because I'm a klutz when I'm not drinking), and moved everything in the kitchen and scrubbed underneath it.

Sadly, all of this cleaning left very little time for the GRE practice test that I was supposed to do today. This was clearly inadvertent, and will undoubtedly be rectified...sometime in the next few weeks.

But hey. I may not ever be accepted to graduate school and therefore have no job, but I will have an unnatural amount of Waterford crystal.

Leave my cervix the hell alone, please.

So, TLC is doing the birth of the Duggar child (or, as Colleen, puts it, blurred-out Fundamentalist naughty bits). And, oh! So much wisdom. Apparently, having huge unnatural amounts of sex at the end of pregnancy leads to cervical softening. And a soft cervix makes it much easier to give birth than a (AND I AM NOT EVEN MAKING THIS UP THE WOMAN SAID EXACTLY THIS) cervix that hasn't been "loved on."

Um. Eww. Gross. I do not want to know about your creepy condoned-by-God sexual habits to make childbirth easier. And also, I'm pretty sure that your cervix softens naturally even if you do not find the idea of sex after nine months as a "sacred" vessel just, like, the best thing ever.

Also, Jim Bob thinks that it is the part of the husband to be supportive because that will totally make things easier (My mom: "Oh! It does not make it easier. Stupid."), and he should encourage her to eat healthily and be in shape.

Oh. Oh. If anyone ever suggests to me that I should perhaps eat a more healthy diet or get in shape in order to be supportive? Yeah. He'll never be getting near my cervix, softened or otherwise again. IT'S NOT YOURS ANYMORE, BASTARD.

At six a snow day is amazing.

At twenty-one, and the second one in three days? There are claw marks on the walls. I mean, God knows I love doing absolutely nothing. But when you actually had things like work and Starbucks to do and you are really quite sick of this actually having to change your life because of the freaking weather, it is simply unacceptable.

I dislike living in the country. Tomorrow, I will leave the house. If I have to take the freaking horse.

Meanwhile, did you know you can watch movies on Hulu.com? Because you totally can and I have now seen "In Her Shoes" for free. (Which is, frankly, the right price because that movie kind of sucks.) Next up- The Madness of King George. Porphyria ahoy!

Very Post-Vatican II

So apparently Fr. Newbie (who isn't so new anymore, but whatever) is fond of the YouTube, as we now have a video Christmas card.

I am all in favor of this, and seriously squeed because frankly I think YouTube is about as awesome an invention as could have been made. I mean, really, there is nowhere else where you can find amazing videos of David Tennant in drag. Or some guy playing Tony Blair talking about Gerry Adams and Ian Paisley and then regenerating into David Tennant? I mean, really. This is quality stuff here, perfect for completely squandering your afternoons or maybe your 4.0. Lots of things.

ANYWAY, once I stalked David Tennant gave a cursory view to the actual video (children's pictures, Luke's gospel, blah blah- cute), I started clicking on the other videos because there is nothing I like more than watching self-important videos put together by parishes when they're trying to get people to give money to them. Oh, I love them. When we did ours last year I almost fell out of the pew I was laughing so hard. Fantastic school...*chokes* "St. *Enter Name Here* has changed my life! I used to be a crack whore! But now I'm entering a convent and saying my final vows in six months! Give thousands- your children will thank you!" Well, since this parish was located in Whitefish Bay, notsomuch with the crack whore part, but still.

Except for one thing- the background music was "Have a Little Faith In Me". Don't get me wrong- love the song. Consistently one of the most played songs on my iPod. But I'm guessing no one on the staff has ever seen Benny and Joon, because yeah, I'm not sure that taking advantage of the borderline-mentally-disabled (even if you look like Johnny Depp) is really the image they want to conjure up. Just a thought.

I'm not a big musical girl.

I generally don't appreciate it when people randomly burst into song or break out in a brilliantly choreographed dance when you've JUST MET YOUR DANCE PARTNER. Call me a cynic. Whatever. I do love White Christmas, though.

Like whoa. I've watched it every year since I was little. I used to make my Playmobile characters act it out. And it's on Liftime RIGHT NOW.

Imagine my glee. Until I realized that they cut out like everything that makes it White Christmas. Such as the musical numbers, a large number of the punny jokes, and most of the plot.

Gah. Hatehatehate.

Also, apparently I showered with my sister once when we were like five. And then she talked about it at the parish picnic. And I do not remember this at all. Probably a good thing

The perils of watching TMJ4 when you want *actual* news.

I tend to not watch or believe the weather reports. This is due to a myriad of factors such as stay awake until 10:17, are you crazy? I've been asleep for like an hour by then!, the news makes me feel like an old person, and this whole thing. I've developed this kind of, meh, whatever attitude towards winter driving, too. Just go slowly and leave a ton of extra time and you'll be fine. Seriously. Chill out.

But apparently things are supposed to be bad tomorrow morning, when I was supposed to be driving to Grandpa's. So I'm thinking that maybe, as I don't have anything terribly important like final to get to, tomorrow will be a celebratory winter-break-is-here snow day and I'll sleep in and bake Christmas cookies instead. That sounds like a much safer plan. Unless, of course, I wake up and it's clear and then FINE, God clearly wants me to go paint the damn woodwork and the chocolate cheesecake cookies will have to be dealt with some other day.

A few things-

I only have three semesters left of undergrad! I'm equal parts insanely happy, insanely sad, and insanely freaked out because skills! I have none! Please to have job skills!?!? Mostly the sad right now though. I get very nostalgic at the end of the semester, even when the professors do the rote, "You guys have been great and I've really had a good time teaching this class," I always want to go, "Awww! I love you too!!!"

Big sexy whooping crane. Ahaha.

Bill Pullman circa whatever-year-Independence-Day-was-released is kind of hot. I've always loved Bill Pullman, ever since I saw While You Were Sleeping and wondered why it took Sandra Bullock so long to hook up with the brother who not only had complete control of all of his faculties but was also significantly more attractive than Peter Gallagher and his eyebrows that could take over the world.

But I digress.

I'd vote for him for President.

My rope. Let me show you the end of it.

It's the first Christmas since Grandpa died, the single most stressful exam week I have ever been through, but yes! Let's throw a biopsy on top of it. Absolutely, no problem. Thanks so much, universe! Maybe if I scrap hard enough at this paint on my forearms, I can open a vein.

I swear to God. I don't know that the freaking hell the ABM Treaty says or what the frick an SSBN is and I DO NOT CARE ANYMORE DO YOU HEAR ME.

However, and this is a big however because it eases my mind considerably, I got a fantastic grade on one of my term papers. A term paper that is long enough and in the right format that I can submit it as my writing sample on graduate school applications. And as my thesis will only be half-finished by the time I'm applying, this is a veritable Christmas miracle.

But one more. Only one. At 12:00 tomorrow I'll be finished. For five weeks. You will be lucky if I get home before I start drinking. I may stop at Granpa's and have a tearful, painty cocktail.

Reasons Why I am a Monotheist

Yes, true, there is that whole one holy, catholic, and apostolic church thing. A major, valid point, but not the one I'm talking about.

No, rather, another reason I am a monotheist is that I decidedly could not cut it as a polytheist. I have now taken a semester of African art. Obviously, this is not a huge amount, and I am not an expert. But this is an upper level class, I've done all the reading, got a 100 on the midterm, A's on papers, etc. I know what I'm talking about, at least a little.

And, wow, I do not get it. I've studied, I really have. But the Ogun/Gu/St. James and Shango/Chango/St. Barbara and Ellegua/Leba/Elegba/Legba/St. Peter? FOLLOW JESUS IT IS MUCH EASIER, TRUST ME, FON AND YORUBA PEOPLES.

*ahem*

Also, I was not turned on once this semester. I was told at the beginning of the class that he hoped we would find this exciting an maybe even be turned on by it. This class was misrepresented. *sigh*

So before I go and collapse, do you want to hear a crazy person story? It involves me waking up at 3 a.m., terrified and sweating because I was convinced that I got an A- in a class. It was a dream, obviously. No less terrifying. I seriously need to chill the frick out.

I lead a contradictory, boring life.

I've done laundry, cleaned bathrooms, unloaded the dishwasher, and even wiped my freaking floor in an effort to avoid the Reagan/Gorbachev era outlines that are screaming to me about my worthlessness from my bedroom. Unless I want to move into polishing silver, it was this or nothing.

IF YOUR LIFE WAS A MOVIE, WHAT WOULD THE SOUNDTRACK BE?
So, here's how it works:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend you're cool...
7. When you're finished tag some other people to do it!

Opening Credits: I Say a Little Prayer For You, The Cast of My Best Friend's Wedding (I would indeed like my opening credits to be led by a gay guy.)

Waking Up: Shut Up and Drive, Rihanna (I don't normally wake up to a thinly veiled sexual-reference song, but hey.)

First Day Of School: Holland, 1945, Neutral Milk Hotel (Anne Frank and indie folk rock? This school year would suck.)

Falling In Love: Canon in D, Pachebel (Am I a mail-order bride who jumped right to the wedding?)

Fight Song: Declaration, David Cook (Hell yeah! I'll fight you. To the tune of an American Idol winner...)

Breaking Up: Whenever, Wherever, Shakira (Que???)

Prom: Shattered, O.A.R. (Worse prom ever.)

Life: Crazy in Love, Beyonce (So I begin school with the Nazis, get shattered at prom, and still am crazy in love?)

Mental Breakdown: El Tango de Roxanne, Moulin Rouge Soundtrack (I have often thought that I would like sad violins and Ewan McGregor to be there when I finally crack about being a whore.)

Driving: It's All Been Done, Barenaked Ladies (This is a good driving song.)

Flashback: Mi Morena, Josh Groban (Except for the fact that I've used Morena as my internet name for like ever, I fail to see how this would work.)

Getting Back Together: Goodbye to You, Michelle Branch (I think they got this and the breaking up song confused.)

Wedding: This Ain't a Scene, Fall Out Boy (Two things: I dislike the fact that my wedding will be a goddamn arms race, and I do not want Fall Out Boy to be there.)

Birth Of Child: Thornton's Walk, North and South Soundtrack (Those are some damn slow contractions.)

Final Battle: Change, Taylor Swift

Death Scene: It's All Coming Back to Me Now, Celine Dion (But I'm dying...)

Funeral Song: Every Breath You Take (A very stalkery funeral.)

End Credits: Superman, Five for Fighting (I give up.)

Well. This was fun. And not nearly as embarrassing as the last one. Barry Manilow didn't show up once.

Do you know what the Husayn-McMahon Correspondence says?

Yeah. Me neither. Something about Palestine maybe? Boy, that's going to be an interesting exam in a few days.

I've hit my end-of-the-semester wall. The wall where all my class-related crazy disappears and frankly even showing up for the exams is just, like, way too much work. D is for diploma, baby. I've been sitting with my imperialism notes on my lap for like two hours and haven't actually opened the folder yet. Damned if I can tell you about the partition of India, but I have made a new high score in Facebook Tetris. That's almost as good. Millions of Hindus and Muslims died during the partition, very few due to Facebook Tetris.

And also, there are clearly more pressing matters that require my attention. Obviously, that Tetris game. My bedroom clearly needed to be dusted. It was imperative that I make a new iPod playlist. And did you know that Ewan McGregor is going to be in Angels and Demons? So not only do I have Tom Hanks and his hair of fabulous crazy but also Ty-You-Bastard as an evil priest? I prefer not to stop and analyze my reaction to that because it worries me with it's inappropriateness, but I will say that May 15th. I. Am. So there.

Sure as hell is more interesting than the Iraqi Petroleum Company. Booooring. I'm going back to Google to find more Ewan pictures.

Existential Breakdown

No, not the one where I freaked out and started sobbing in front of the heating guy, the counter guy, a plumber, I think?, and my cousin's roommate because OH MY GOD THE PIANO IS GONE AND I LOVE MY MOMMY AND OH YEAH FINALS I AM THIS CLOSE TO A 4.0 WANT TO DIE ZOMG.

Please. That was yesterday.

No, today I was working and two UWM professors came in. I was listening to them talking about the apparently weekly "doom-and-gloom" meetings in each department. Words like "hiring freeze" were tossed around.

Awesome. I clearly picked a fantastic time to attempt to find a job without any actual practical skills, except for liking to wear jeans an drinking in the afternoon.

I felt like asking either of them if they were looking for an opinionated assistant. I wouldn't have to do anything terribly historical even- I'd go get their drycleaning. Hell, I'd do their drycleaning. Just please tell me I didn't make a stupid decision and will end up teaching remedial English to crack addicts for $25k a year while I can't afford a Swiffer to dust off my freaking historical theology Ph.D.

Yeah. Hypothetical Gay Couple had better be looking for a long-term living arrangement.

Meanwhile, my mom just got a UWM catalog and found a two-week summer program at Trinity College in Dublin that she thinks would be just so much fun for me to do!

You know what would be not so much fun.? Having to become a prostitute for the next nine months to afford to do so. That's what.

I just washed my hair and there are *still* paint flecks in it.

Because I am much too tired to contribute anything to the sucking black hole of the internets...and, you know, the hair thing isn't going to fix itself.

In which I totter around in size 10 heels, cyber-scream at my professor, and expound my views on capital punishment-AGAIN.

*ahem*

I am genetically predisposed to the crazy. But instead of measuring icicles or sitting in the back of church I go crazy about school. Imagine my dismay when my term paper was not returned today as promised and I still have no idea about 40% of my grade.

Then imagine my dismay when I realized that it was ten-thirty on a Thursday night and I still hadn't done the stuff I made myself do today. This happens every Thursday. I make a list of stuff that absolutely has to be finished, and then ignore it until late at night. Grrr. But now I have a finished Cold War essay and flashcards for three different glasses. Including two separate ones for Nasser for two different classes. So should you need to know Nasser's significance from either a British Imperialistic standpoint or that of the Cold War relations in the Middle East, I'm your girl.

Anyway, the reason I didn't do the flashcards or essay earlier was that I rented Infamous from the library. You know, the other Capote movie. The one that everyone involved whined about how it got shafted because it came out a year after Capote and that's why nobody watched it.

Um. No. No one watched it because Capote was much better and this one kind of sucked. It has Sandra Bullock. I like her. But other than that, sucked.

I rented it because Lee Pace played Dick Hickcock, and yeah, Lee should never ever cut his hair like that again. So totally not a good idea. In fact, he should just dress and talk like Ned for the rest of his life. And move to Milwaukee and live in a comfortably sexless marriage with me and maybe one day he'll decide he's straight.

*sigh* Although I'm not sure the Pushing Daisies money is enough to pay off my student loans. It got cancelled awfully fast.

Oh. Capital punishment. Right. Obviously, the movie was about the writing of In Cold Blood, and it ends with the hanging of the two killers. Which upsets me greatly. I had to fast forward. My political position aside (which has kind of devolved into a disgusted "Really? REALLY!?!?!"), the actual act of capital punishment freaks me out. I can watch CSI all day long. Hell, I read In Cold Blood and loved it (well, okay. I was convinced they were coming for me for like a month, but I digress). But every time I see or read about or think about putting someone to death I literally feel sick to my stomach. In high school I had to research Timothy McVeigh's execution for some project and I've blocked it out of my mind so much that I don't even remember what school I was at.

So it should be outlawed just so it can stop making me ill.

Finally- heels! I went to Target this afternoon, as I am wont to do, oh, every day. Imladris was with me and doing a little Christmas shopping and I was killing time in the shoe department. And what did I find but fantastic five-inch peep-toe pumps with an adorable little strap on clearance? For $7.49??? Except they only had a 6 and a 10. A 6 was clearly not going to go on. I tried dammit, but it didn't work. So we went with the 10. I'm an 8.

Thank God it has a strap and my feet are permanently swollen from the treachery of UWM and their refusal to buy road salt (I'm writing "For Salt" on the memo line of my next tuition check), and it's probably a good thing that my toes don't really reach the end, as it is winter. So if you'd like a really amusing sight, come over and watch me stumble around in five-inch heels that are two sizes to big for me but OH SO ADORABLE.

I'm off to watch a History Channel docudrama about the Holy Family. It should be laughably inaccurate. I'm looking forward to it.

Maybe I need to move out...

Chez Morena, 6:50 AM

Morena: Mom? Are you awake?

Rockford: Yes. Why?

Morena: Okay. These boots. Do they make me look a like a fat extra who tried out for Indiana Jones?

Rockford: Yes. That's exactly what I was going to say. No, they're fine.

Morena: Thank you. I think too much. I'm going downstairs now.

Rockford: Yes. Yes you do. Turn off the light, please.

I'm going with the white guy.

I realize it's simply the fact that I have had entirely too much imperialism this semester, and am currently trying to keep the Anglo-Irish Accords, the Downing Street Declaration, the Twin-Track Strategy, and the Good Friday Agreement straight, but I found this absolutely hilarious.

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Provinces in Peril

Barack Obama Interview
John McCain Interview

Sarah Palin Video
Funny Election Video

I should be ordained.

No, I'm not making a political statement for women priests, because frankly the idea squicks me out something fierce. Rather just that I totally read a book this weekend that had exactly the same argument that the priest was making during the homily, and as I was reading it I was thinking, "Hmm. This would make sense for the Immaculate Conception."

(Except the Eva/Ave thing. It's two different languages. Separated by thousands of years, and Luke was written in Greek originally, not Latin. It's kind of cute, but meh. Don't buy it.)

It was basically the whole Eve/Mary parallel about free will and disobeying or submitting to God's will. Mine was in a history book, and it had rather a misogynistic twist because the early Church fathers preached it as the disobedience of the virgin bringing sin into the world and then God using an obedient virgin to bring salvation.

Yeah. I didn't really have a point for this story, except that it contributed to this weird out-of-body experience during Mass like, "Wait? Are we talking about Pelikan's Mary Through the Centuries?"

Back Home Again

Well, my mom's camera arrived before we left. So there are now hundreds of unflattering pictures saved securely on our harddrive. Oh, the joy. My own pictures will be staying in my camera until further notice, because I am a teensy bit exhausted and going to bed now.

I am, however, totally skipping art history tomorrow. Two weeks ago, I had a reason. Holy day! Of obligation! So clearly I should go to Mass! And not a boring lecture! But Mass is later, and even if it's Newbie, who I'm pretty sure leaves out major parts in his effort to finish quickly, still wouldn't be enough time to get to art history.

Except now I've decided that I don't really want to go to Mass in the morning all alone, so I'm going at night with the fam. As in, ten hours after art history. But I was so gung ho on skipping that I'm going to anyway and just sit at Starbucks. Which is almost a religous experience. Close.

More narcissistic drivel.

When you take your socks off, do you always use your hands to do it, or do you ever your feet?

With my hands. Sadly, I do not possess the dexterity to take them off with my feet. Either that or my toes are just too short.



Do you tie and untie your tennis shoes when you take them on and off? Or do you tie them once, leave them tied, then slip them on and off?

When they're on, like a normal person. I fail to realize how they can actually stay on if you tie them loose enough to slip over your foot in the first place. Would someone please explain this complete denial of the laws of physics to me?



Do you answer the phone if you don’t recognize the number on the caller ID? Do you have a land line phone?

Actually, I'm less likely to pick up if it's a number I do know. If it's someone I know, and I'm doing something, I can either figure out what they're calling about and respond accordingly, or figure they'll leave a message. I usually pick up if it's a number I don't recognize because who knows? I could end up telling John from National Right to Life my views on Sarah Palin again. And I think we can all agree that is a good time.



Does your profession have a clothing stereotype?Student/retail?

Yeah. We barely get dressed. This is why whenever I wear a skirt all of my (straight) friends go, "Where are you going? Why are you so dressed up? WHAT IS GOING ON!?!?!"



Do you take any vitamins or supplements? Which do you take? Do you notice any difference in your overall health from taking them?

Eh. I try. Occasionally. My mom takes like a box of things in the morning, and sometimes I steal them. The only difference I noticed was from one supplement and it was quite surprising, and then my mom was all, "Oh, yeah, I probably should have told you that happened," and I was all, "Um, yeah, you should have. I thought I was dying."



Do you follow the wash instructions on your clothing?

Pssh. No. I mean, I kind of check to see if it's dry clean only, but other than that I wash everything on cold and hang all my shirts up to dry anyway, so it's not a huge deal.



Are you a creature of habit, food wise? Do you eat the same thing everyday? Are there any foods/drinks, you feel like you have to consume on a daily basis? Or… do you like some variety?

I'm definitely a creature of habit, but I don't necessarily eat the same thing everyday. I probably eat yogurt for lunch almost every day, and definitely water and coffee. But dinner is pretty much whatever is in the fridge.



Which magazines, if any, do you subscribe to at home? Do you have time to read them? Do you throw them away when you are done reading them?

I get People and Entertainment Weekly. I do have time to read them, and I do throw them away when I'm finished. In the past few months I've realized that I've really outgrown them, though. Matthew McConaughy running on the beach is no longer that inartistic to my personal identity and continuation of a happy life. I think it's a sign of emotional growth.



What is the greatest distance you have ever driven in a single day? What do you do to keep yourself entertained while in the car, whether you’re the driver/passenger, alone/with someone?

Hmm. I think I drove almost from DC one day, but I didn't drive. I usually am on a family vacation if I'm driving far, and then I'm not driving. I do love car trips though, and driving. So yes, I can keep myself entertained. I read or study until I get sick, and then listen to music. I'm easily amused.



Which celebrity would you pick to be our next president?

Well, now that South Carolina cruelly dashed my Colbert '08 hopes... Hmm. I'd like to say Johnny Depp so that the State of the Union's ratings would go up from dorks who sit and watch and squee over the Supreme Court (No, I've never done that. Why do you ask?), but I think that maybe he's a tad mellow for the job. I'm conservative, which instantly limits my choices to Jon Voight or Gary Sinise. As I have never had an inappropriate thought during a Jon Voight movie, I'm gonna have to go with Lt. Dan.



What is your relationship like with your family? Do you live in the same town? How often do you see them/communicate with them?

We live in the same house. In fact, same room until a few months ago. We get along. Usually. Unless I'm being snarky or someone else is. Thanksgiving was an aberration.



Do you love or loathe having house guests?

I have a complicated relationship with guests, so it's probably a good thing I never have any. At first it seems like of exciting, like, "ooh! There are other people here!" but then it kind of just gets boring and you can never swear as much as you really want to.



What is something you really enjoy doing that is a chore or a bore for many people?

LAUNDRY. I freaking love to do laundry. I don't know if it's my latent genetic OCD tendencies or what, but I enjoy sorting and cleaning and having big piles of clean things. So yeah, laundry would be a good chore for me.



If you could own one original work of art, what would you choose?

I have to pick one? I should say van Gogh, because he's my favorite artist really. But prints pretty much can cover it for him. Or Fragonard's Young Girl Reading, because that has hung in my room since I was a little girl. But I think I might really prefer the original Madonna of the Meadow (Raphael), or some really cool old icon.



OOH! I know what I want! An icon from before the iconoclasm! Like Christ Pantocrator from Sinai! Yes. That's it. Christmas wish list!!!

Galena!

I'm leaving! In like half an hour! Or more likely closer to an hour because we never ever leave on time! Yay!

*ahem*

I do have my computer with me, but I set up posts for the weekend just in case. I know, you're thrilled.

Bye!

Yet another update on my unbelievably lacking organization skills.

I know. It's getting boring. I'm bored with me. F'reals. But seriously, y'all, I DO NOT PLAN WELL.

Obviously. I'm leaving for the weekend tomorrow morning, and it's now 12:17 AM. I am still printing off study guides, I have about fifty African art objects to flashcard (oh yes, my friends, it is a verb), and can someone please explain to me why the damn unionists camped outside Drumcree for like ten years? Because it is not helping the situation. Well, it didn't help their's, either. (Yet another unbelievably frustrating tableau from the files of OH MY LORD WHY DO YOU NOT JUST CHILL THE FRICK OUT ALREADY ALL Y'ALL Northern Ireland.)

Haven't packed. Haven't really thought about what to pack. Clothes, I'm guessing. Meh. That will probably come later, after I finish writing about the Ibeigi figures, which is clearly much more important because what if I give birth to twins tonight and I don't know what to do with their souls? Then what will happen, huh?

Ookay. Going to need to dial back the crazy a little bit. Forgive me. You must understand that I'm usually in bed like three hours ago.

So while I try to remember socks, some random thoughts/tales from the last few days.

- In Hebrew studies we're watching this video that's narrated by Liev Schrieber, which is seriously making the end of the semester much, much better. Oh, yeah. Talk some more about the Merneptah Stele, baby.

-This morning in Cold War we watched a clip of a video discussing the Angola conflict and the role of mercenaries. The bad guy (shut up, I know I'm an imperialist) was talking about this one mercenary in particular and was calling him a fantastic soldier. In fact, the had never seen a better soldier. Then it cuts to the CIA director for Africa who literally rolled his eyes and went, "Psychopath. Complete psychopath. And all of his friends were psychopaths too." My lip was bleeding I was biting it so hard to stop from laughing.

- As you may have gathered from earlier, we're up to 1998 and the whole peace process thing in Northern Ireland. It's lovely, the nationalists and the unionists are hugging and whatnot, flowers blooming, Jesus is coming back, blah blah blah. Anyway. Bill Clinton had a lot to do with this. I won't deny that. Clinton was brilliant, in fact, so brilliant that I often wondered exactly what he was smoking (not inhaling) that made him say, "No, you're totally okay under there. Nobody's gonna know," and he did have a charisma that allowed him to work with people. Bully for him.

He is not, however, akin to the second coming. And I am getting a teensy weensy little bit sick of the 75-minute Clinton orgasm I have to endure every Tuesday and Thursday morning. Gah. Not the bestest President ever omg. Really. Really not.

And that's all I've got. Good night.

Okay. Fine. I guess that whole essay-a-day thing worked.

Wrote three papers in about three hours this afternoon. Including an eight-page analysis of contemporary non-biblical sources as support for the presence of the ancient Israelites in Canaan during the 13th pre-Christian century.

Oh, the joy of being able to use your own presentation as a source. I freaking love that class.

Woefully inept.

Hah. So. I went to a friend's piano recital tonight, and listened to an hour of fantastically talented people play fantastically well.

And suddenly the fact that I crapped out and can only play one song after like eight years of lessons (on and off, but still)? Is horribly pitiful.

I have no talents. My great skill is having opinions about everything. So I chose to be a historian. There is no swelling music or glorious finishes in history. Unless it's National Treasure. But I don't think I'll ever use my conflict resolution/Biblical scholarship training to discover a treasure with Nicolas Cage. Unfortunately.

Gah. Hate the world.

It's December.

Although you wouldn't know that from looking at any of my notebooks from today, which are all helpfully labeled November December 1, 2008. I am officially not at my brightest after a long weekend.

Today was...trying. I could use different words, but I do not want to offend my mother, and I'm trying not to be snarky. So. Trying.

First, it snowed. Which means my feet got wet and it was just very uncomfortable and inconvenient. And I was stuck behind this guy going twenty miles an hour down the road and yeah, I get that it's wet and you want to be careful, but when you can see blacktop and it's so wet it's spraying (not iced), you can go 3o. I promise.

My partner showed up for our presentation neglecting to realize that it was, in fact, the day of our presentation. Loser. Hatehatehatehatehate.

I painted the bathroom and the front hall after school. Bathroom went well, fell in love with the color all over again, but the front hall was...trying. I slipped on the dropcloth and threw paint all over the carpet, which is fine because the carpet is leaving as soon as Loser Contractor shows up and NotLoser Roommate can rip it up. But I was slightly worried about it dripping through to the wood floors. Hmmm. Oh well. Not really anything I can do about it.

After all this, I decide to stop at Kohl's to use my lovely Kohl's cash from this weekend, and am helped by the dumbest and most suspicious of all the Kohl's employees EVER. I used my mom's charge to pay for it, because I had a coupon. I'm listed on the card as a user, but they wouldn't send us a new one. Whatever. I do this every time I go in there, it's never a problem. But this idiot insists on carding EVERYONE. So I give her my ID, and explain the situation. She looks at my ID. The credit card. Fails to realize that maybe if the last names and the addresses match, not so much of a problem. Looks at me as though I may have stolen some children too, because MY GOD if you are going to fraudulently charge $18 on someone else's credit card, WHERE WILL IT END.

Anyway. A manager is consulted. By this point it's been like five minutes and there is a line. I kindly offer several other methods of payment. She glares at me. Apparently, there is no way to cancel a transaction and rering it once it has been started.

Um. I beg to differ. I work in retail. You can make those damn machines do anything you want, especially something as elementary as cancelling a transaction. But alas, I do not get to impart my register wisdom on her, as when she is trying to cancel the transaction she pushes it through and it gives me a receipt. Which I then take and walk out of the store because IT IS MY CREDIT CARD DAMMIT.

The ennui? I has it.