So attractive.

It's probably a good thing that I don't belong to a gym.

Because if you happened to have been in my basement this afternoon, you would have gotten to watch me in lovely Target yoga pants, a tank top, frizzy pigtails (stupid rain) spending an hour on the treadmill.

Not only that, but talking to myself. Because clearly, an hour? What else is there to do with that time but study? At first I was just reading my notes, but then I thought, dude, I'm in my basement. I learn better when I say things out loud, so dammit, I will talk. Yes. An hour of my fevered mumblings about Home Rule and the potato famine.

Deep, academic thoughts like "Okay...devotional revolution...Paul Cardinal Cullen...I know I'm going to call him "Edward" on the exam...massive building program...motto: what is good for Catholicism is good for Ireland"...stopped handing out Roman collars like candy...get off your girlfriend and read the Bible occasionally, Father...ooh! literacy! 45% in 1845, up to 90% in 1880..." and "Kitty shacked up with Parnell...Billy finds out she's nailing Home Rule Boy...wants cash...old aunt dies..." and "2.5 million emigrate post-famine...most to the US...women work really hard...guys get drunk...number one criminal is the Irish male...except crimes of a sexual nature...possibly because they were drunk all the time...and they are pissed."

Oh yeah. It was a whole new low for nerdom. But I should do well come Thursday.

Still don't know what antidiluvian means.

Ah, God smiled on me today. It's like He said, "Okay. I get it. You're a little stressed because you've been up at five o'clock for the past nine weeks and you still feel nauseous when you think about taking the GRE and yeah, you really should get on that, so I'll give you a little something."

A little something called NO METHODS CLASS. Oh sweet baby Jesus, that was amazing. I'm not sure my wedding day will be this thrilling. Because today we were due to discuss two articles on post-war gender studies, the first about how lesbianism and prostitution are both considered sexual deviancy and I don't know, I kind of tuned out after that, and the second about how pinup girls are more than "masturbatory aids". (I could seriously cite that for you if you'd like. It came from a real academic article. I hate the world.)

Ookay. I don't understand what, exactly, that has to do with Marxist historical theory or writing a thesis. I mean, I still don't really understand what Marxist historical theory is (even after last week's three hour seminar on it).

And I'm writing my thesis on an ecumenical council.

Now, granted, I haven't read all of the Vatican II documents but so far I haven't come across anything that involves Betty Grable, or her legs, or how her legs weren't really valued for their sexiness but for their Americaness (that's not a word, but you know what I mean).

Maybe those just haven't been translated to English yet.

A very Irish birthday...

It is my dear mother's birthday, and it turned into quite the Irish celebration (and no, not just because of the booze). We watched a tour video with my father-in-law, and then viewed some slides from when she was there in June of 1981.

(They didn't go to Belfast.)

(Shocking.)

Apparently, they didn't go a whole lot of places that didn't have a store. For instance, they didn't make it to St. John's Castle (site of the Treaty of Limerick, signed October 2, 1691 promising no revenge and religious freedom for the Irish Catholics.) because they got waylaid at Dunratty's Cottage, buying stuff.

Also, there was a runner for the IRA. One that my crazy mother wholeheartedly supported. I'm sure.

I have a hundred years of failed Irish rebellions to memorize.

Me: Hi, what can I get for you?

Little Boy: Do you know if you have a new elevator certification?

Me: I don't...what?

Little Boy: Your elevator certification.

Me: Um...

Little Boy: It's out of date by a year.

Me: I...um...I'm sure we've gotten a new one.

Little Boy's Dad: Haha, yeah, we think he's going to be an inspector.

Me: Haha, yeah, I don't care.

God, don't these people know I'm trying to study here? Order something or leave me alone.

I need to move.

Re: Yesterday. Apparently, grilling out is an acceptable verb. Both on a technicality, as both Sarah and Hannah pointed out, in that any and all grilling should, in fact, be done "out" because otherwise the chance for explosion increases exponentially, as well as a normal thing like tailgating.

This is another thing I must admit I'm not terribly familiar with. I have a distaste for anything that involves grown men being paid more money than my poor little over educated brain will ever see in my lifetime to throw a ball. I went to that stupid "Return to Titletown" thing twelve years ago, and while I know there was definite tailgating going on, I don't recall much except nine-year-old me crying in anguish because it was probably warmer on the surface of Neptune than it was in Green Bay that day. And we all know how how I feel about baseball.

Whatever. I've never heard it.

C'mere once.

Apparently? The Bachelor 174 hooked up with some chick from Milwaukee? After dumping another woman? I don't know. This is like the one bottom-feeder show that I don't watch, so yeah, I've got nothing. I mean, that show that Monica Lewinsky hosted? I was there. I was salivating at the thought of marital discord on Jon & Kate Plus 8 last Monday. But The Bachelor? Meh. Don't care.

Except. Except this. I've lived in Milwaukee my entire twenty-one years, and I have never, NEVER, heard anyone say "grilling out".

You may be having a cook-out. You may be grilling. We do both of these things. A lot. But no one "grills out". In fact, I don't think you would even say "cooking out". It just doesn't work as a verb.

I know we talk funny, okay. I have spent hours trying to get rid of the talking funny part. I don't need your help with the stereotype, Bachelor Dude.

Disjointed

There was lots of randomness today...

*watching Angels and Demons trailer*
Mary: Wait, was that Ewan throwing a little tantrum?
Me: Yes.
Mary: *giggles* And that little cape is so hot!
Me: That's a cope.
Mary: Whatever. It's still hot.

***

"You've got a little something in your hair."
"Oh, it's...a piece of chicken. God, why am I five years old?"

***

"Is this lab seriously telling us to "gently spank the tube"?"
"Yes."
"Okay. I am not mature enough for this lab."

Obama's talking again. I'm disagreeing. Again.

I got a test back in US/Israel relations today. I received a 115, and after I stopped smiling madly I read the comments on the front. There was the usual stuff, like "*Pick a fantastic adjective* effort!", "Wow!", and some scribbles that I'm pretty sure are scribbles but hell, they could be really dirty words or something, I don't know, his penmanship is terrible.

Then, at the bottom, he wrote, "Keep it up!" I know it's just another "yay!", but it kind of made me laugh because...

Um. Okay.

This is the fourteenth test I've taken from him. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I've never gotten anything less than a 95, and in this class I haven't received anything lower than a 110. I'm obviously working incredibly hard and am capable of grasping material because I've been regurgitating his lectures quite successfully for thirteen months.

So does he think that number 15 is the one where I stop studying? Like I'm not going to show up for class anymore? I think if I'm going to memorize the dollar amount of debt that the US forgave of Mexico in 1848, I'm in it for the long haul.

(It was $3.3 million, by the way.)

Items of Note

-Please, please, Whitefish Bay. Will you seriously stop working on Silver Spring and open it again? I think the few weeks it actually was open both ways was more a cruel test than anything else. Honestly. What are you doing?

-Cuban history was, quite possibly, the most boring class of the semester. I think that an actual visit to the slums of Cuba (Which apparently don't exist because Castro! Is awesome! He's like a warm cuddly grandpa! Who shoots you when you talk.) and the inevitable arrest upon my arrival back in the US would be more fun than that damn class.

-Josh Groban is rumored to be dating Katy Perry. What. WHAT? "I Kissed a Girl" girl? That's what turns you on? I will kiss a girl. I'll dress like a circus freak. I'll look constantly surprised and wear bright red lipstick. Hell, I will become a freaking lesbian if that's what you want! *headdesk*

-This guy in methods would not stop talking to me. Like, for reals. I was very obviously trying to study the chapter that I hadn't read yet and we were being tested on in three minutes. I was talking to other people. I was not making eye contact. Stop asking me what I did over break, if I'd seen the documentary "Che", do not listen to my conversation with someone else and comment on it, leave me alone, and my God is it like twelve hundred degrees in here??? (It was.) I'm pretty sure he asked me out for a drink then, but I couldn't really tell because he kept mumbling. Gah. It was so annoying.

-My art history professor wrote, "Excellent. One of the best in the class," on my exam. Him? I'd get a drink with.

-Jon and Kate of "Plus 8" are having marital issues because Jon went out and got drunk with coeds. And now they're "frustrated" with the whole fame thing. Oh, bite me. You're ridiculously wealthy, have everything sent to you because it's being shown on the show (including insurance- why hello thar, camera! I was just checking up on my Allstate website...) and a year ago those coeds wouldn't have given you the time of day.

Sometimes they bug me.

Not Aaden. I love Aaden.

I don't think I like this.

Spring break is over. Tomorrow I have to go to like three whole classes and DO NOT APPRECIATE.

Seven more weeks.

I should be insulted.

Um, hi! If you've gotten here from the What Did Glenn Grothman Get Wrong This Week post (and I know at least a few people have), welcome! This corner of the internet is mostly reserved for my drunken musings on Johnny Depp's hair or my hair or my nail-biting academic inferiority complex, normal stuff, really. I'm sure you won't be terribly interested. Unless you're independently wealthy and feel like paying for my brain, which will be worth over a hundred thousand dollars by the time I'm finished with it, please leave a comment and I'll call the judge.

Anyway, I think my mother thinks I'm particularly stupid.

Mom: Hey, did you go for a walk?

Me: Yes.

Mom: No cars hit you?

Me: Well yeah, but I just laid there thinking "What would Natasha Richardson do?" I figured I'd get up and walk it off. And yeah, now I'm nauseous and dizzy and can't see colors, but I think I'm fine. OF COURSE NO CAR HIT ME.

Mom: Just wanted to make sure.

I'm not terribly bright.

Sometimes, God needs to get Old Testament on me. I mean, none of my shrubbery has burst into flames or anything (mostly because I refuse to weed and we thus have very few things of the plant variety at our house), but there have been many times when I've been listening to the readings or homily and it's like God is screaming, "OKAY IS THIS CLEAR ENOUGH FOR YOU? YOU ARE SO DUMB."

Well, God isn't actually that mean. But other than that...

Like this week, where it's been like a constant battering ram of "omg love your neighbor for reals" and forgiveness and you know what, God? I'm trying, okay?

I'm generally a nice, not-too-bitter person. (Stop laughing, Colleen.) But I do hold a grudge. Like, for a long time. There's this woman at church who I still get angry at every time I see and secretly am thankful that she's old and alone and lives with her parents. She was babysitting a whole group of us when I was seven. My friend's toddler sister grabbed my Little House on the Prairie book and when I took it back this Evil Horrible Bitch Woman took it away from me because she thought we were fighting.

Yes. I'm still mad. Even though the friend and I are juniors in college, his sister is sixteen, and that woman is, again, old and living with her parents.

The last few months haven't exactly lent themselves to personal growth either. Because it's really hard to be forgiving when someone that you love (or loved) deeply doesn't call when your mom gets freaking cancer (again). It's really hard to be forgiving when your whole life seems to be falling apart and you can't believe that theirs isn't too. It's really hard to be forgiving when you feel like a horrible person because you have to smile and pretend on the one day I know I'm going to want to wake up, have a drink, cry, and go back to bed.

As we already established, I'm not good with the forgiveness.

I really need to work on that. But I am listening, God. So maybe for the second half of Lent...

I definitely need to marry well.

Thoughts that I had this morning:

"Hmm. The gas guage is on empty. This is weird. Is it really empty, or just the normaly bopping around empty?"

"Probably bopping around empty. I'll be fine."

"That's really stupid. You should stop and get gas."

"Where is there even a gas station around here?"

"Oh. Right there. And it's even a Citgo. God knows the parentals like their brand loyalty. Screw the whole Venezualen oil company thing."

"Wait, is it closed? It says "For Lease". But there are little numbers on the pumps. Hmm. Oh, credit card sales only. I have a credit card! Not mine, but still."

"Hmm. This is kind of a scary abandoned ghost-towny type place."

"That's stupid. You're on Port Washington Road in Mequon, for heaven's sakes."

"But why are there no cars? Just scary shadows?"

"Someone could strangle me with my pretty scarf."

"I'll only do ten dollars. That should be enough. $9.60. $9.85. $9.98. $10.03. Dammit."

"Yes, I want a receipt."

"Why aren't you giving me a receipt?"

"Why are you beeping?"

"I can't see the attendant! The damn building is for lease!"

"STOP BEEPING."

"You know what, I'm leaving now."

"There is a reason I don't do this often."

"Eww. Now my hands smell."

***

Meanwhile, I now know when and where my favorite professor's firstborn was conceived. And now I'm pretty sure I'm going to spend most of Tuesday focusing not on the push for Home Rule and but him having sex in Ireland. Which is just weird.

Hey! A day that involved actaul relaxing!

On spring break, no less!

I slept in, leisurely painted some woodwork, hung out with Mary and Colleen, went on a four-mile walk, and watched a fantastic Criminal Minds.

It was awesome.

Tomorrow I'm actually going to go be social, so yeah.

I'll send pictures to everyone.

I was watching QVC with my mom today because it was all Irish stuff and if there is anything that my mom loves more than an Irish tchotcke, it's an Irish tchotcke that can be purchased from the convenience of one's living room, but whatever, who am I to judge? I have an initial pendant based off the lettering from the Book of Kells coming. I'm thrilled.

Anyway, the guy who owns the only operating Connemara marble quarry is there, and this year (oh yes, we watch every year) he brought his son. His adorable, accented, non-wedding-ring-wearing son.

So I have decided to marry into the Walsh family. We shall have a destination wedding and my adorable children will call me "Mam". Of course, this means that you all won't be able to come to my wedding. But let's be honest, you probably weren't going to be invited anyway.

Only because I dislike people. I mean, my fiance will be lucky if I let him bring his parents.

Last of those letters he sends out.

I just got a letter from Sen. Glenn Grothman, congratulating me on my Dean's List thing again. First, why did no one congratulate me the last time I got on? My GPA was actually better then. Second, he included his office phone number (addressed to the very personal "Kathleen Mary Elizabeth *redacted*, because God knows only my closest friends use ALL FOUR of my names.), with instructions to call if he could ever be of assistance to me.

Oh, Glenn. You cannot do that and expect me to behave maturely. I picture our relationship something like this.

Hello, you've reached the Madison office of Senator Grothman. Please leave a message.
Um, hi! It's Kathleen, you know, you sent me a letter. Yeah, well, I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate it, and there's not really anything you can do for me right now, but I'll certainly let you know. *beep*

Hello, you've reached the Madison office of Senator Grothman. Please leave a message.
Hey, it's Kathleen? From the Dean's List? Yeah. I have something you could help me with. I just spent a ton of money at Kohl's? And I was wondering if you could talk to Herb and see if there's anything we can do about that. Just let me know. *beep*

Hello, you've reached the Madison office of Senator Grothman. Please leave a message.
Hi, yeah, about the Kohl's purchase. Do you think my neck is too short to carry off the scarf trend? I forgot, you've never seen my neck. You know what, I'm going to take a picture and send it to you. *beep*

Hello, you've reached the Madison office of Senator Grothman. Please leave a message.
Did you get it? Do I look fat? *beep*

Hello, you've reached the Madison office of Senator Grothman. Please leave a message.
Glenn? I look fat, right? Oh, I knew it. I can never carry off trends. *beep*

Hello, you've reached the Madison office of Senator Grothman. Please leave a message.
It isn't very nice of you to not call me and tell me I look okay in the scarf. I mean, it's the civilized thing to do. You know what, Glenn? I feel like you lost something we had at the beginning. Sometimes, I really kind of hate you and what you've done to me. *beep*

Hello, you've reached the Madison office of Senator Grothman. Please leave a message.
*sniffles* I'm sorry I said I hate you, Glenn. *beep*

Hello, you've reached the Madison office of Senator Grothman. Please leave a message.
What up, homie? You know, I feel like we never talk anymore. Do you e-mail? Or Twitter? Oooh, do you have a Facebook??? I would so friend you on Facebook. Then I could poke you all the time! Oh. Except not like that. I don't want to have sex with you, Glenn. *beep*

Hello, you've reached the Madison office of Senator Grothman. Please leave a message.
Hey, it's me...say, I just got some wicked cute shoes and I want to learn ballroom dancing. Will you come with me? *beep*

Hello, you've reached the Madison office of Senator Grothman. Please leave a message.
Hey, babe. I'm at Fred Astaire. Where are you? They're going to make me dance with the creepy guy. *beep*

Hello, you've reached the Madison office of Senator Grothman. Please leave a message.
So I took some NyQuil earlier, because I felt sick, you know. But then a friend of mine came over and now I really want a glass of wine. Do you think that a glass of wine on top of NyQuil would kill me? *beep*

Hello, you've reached the Madison office of Senator Grothman. Please leave a message.
Still here! Didn't kill me. I'm kind of feeling under the weather. Could you pick up my dry-cleaning for me? That'd be awesome. *beep*

Hello, you've reached the Madison office of Senator Grothman. Please leave a message.
Glenn? Are you there? I kind of need a ride? I had a few too many glasses of wine, and I don't want to endanger thep pedestrians on the safe roads of WIsconsin that you work so hard to maintain. Glenn? Are you there? *beep*

Hello, you've reached the Madison office of Senator Grothman. Please leave a message.
I've got some DVDs due at the library and I don't want to leave. Swing by and pick them up? *beep*

Hello, you've reached the Madison office of Senator Grothman. Please leave a message.
I completely forgot! I never asked you- what are we doing for Thanksgiving? I mean, since my Grandpa died I've been kind of blue around that time of year. It's all my fault really. I wasn't very nice to him when he was alive, and I was very bitter that I thought he favored my cousin over me. I mean, he got a laptop for graduation from high school. I was working harder than him in college courses and I didn't get a laptop. I let that fester for a long time, and I just don't think...*beep*

Hello, you've reached the Madison office of Senator Grothman. Please leave a message.
Your machine cut me off. I think we should exchange cell numbers to cut down on these charges. Ooh! Maybe we could be in each other's Faves! How cool would that be? Oh, Grandpa, right. I wasn't very nice to him either, and it just weighs on me, you know? Oh well. Give me a call when you get this? *beep*

Hello, you've reached the Madison office of Senator Grothman. Please leave a message.
Do you know if you have to run water through the washing machine after using bleach? *beep*

Hello, you've reached the Madison office of Senator Grothman. Please leave a message.
Glenn, major problem. I took those dancing lessons by myself because you were so busy all the time? And I think I might be pregnant. Can you get pregnant from slow dancing? Because I need to know. Call, text, whatever. *beep*

The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected. Please hang up or dial the operator.
Glenn? *beep*

Cruises are seriously overrated.

Obviously it is WAY more fun to spend spring break in your dead grandparents' house ripping up carpet and imagining painful things to do with a paintbrush to your cousin because he's not coming to Easter dinner.

I mean, yeah, I won't get a tan. But I get to spend the week crying in pain and anguish! That's so much better!

Oh, and I'm researching two term papers. Or rather, I'm searching "zionism" and "northern Ireland" on my library's webpage and then ordering the top ten most recent books.

Whatever. The professor adores me, and I've got woodwork to paint.

I'm a conservative. Work with me.

Ugh. Facebook changed. AGAIN. I was just getting used to not retching every time I logged on and saw the "new" layout. I was even okay with the weird mashing of the recent activity and the wall area, which I shed tears over sometime in September when they changed it.

But now. Now it's just...strange. Like you don't really have a newsfeed anymore, just a list of status updates and photo uploads. I don't really know about anybody else, but I don't really care about some girl I went to grade school with uploading the eighteenth album of wherever she went over winter break, but I do like to know when people change their relationship statuses. Even if it's just so I can laugh and feel superior because dude, I knew that was going down two weeks ago. And the recent activity part of your own profile is condensed to three stories every few wall posts. And your own posts- photos, status updates, flair, etc, look exactly the same as other people writing. Apparently it looks just like Twitter, and if you'll notice that my last tweet was from the day school started last September, I DON'T LIKE TWITTER.

HATE.

And furthermore, what is Facebook really trying to do? Because I don't know of a single person who actually likes any of the changes they made. EVER. Like, every time something changes everybody's status immediately changes to "DO NOT WANT GAH HATE". I went to the founder's profile, and on everything regarding the change, there are THOUSANDS of comments, all negative.

Isn't this ostensibly supposed to be a fun thing? Like, give the people what they want? Facebook is not our mom trying to get us to eat our vegetables. This is not a "Daddy is going to live in a different house for a little while but we're just going to have to get used to it" sort of situation. Why are you messing with us? We do not need change from social networking sites. We get enough of it from the economy.

Although laundry is incredibly fun.

I decided last week that I needed a hobby. I have plenty going on. I'm in school all day, my house is just one big chore, I work on the weekends, and well, today I learned that ripping up carpet can be devastatingly painful, tearful, and yet oddly satisfying. In theory I spend time studying for the GRE. But I felt like I needed a hobby. The high point in one's week should not be when the laundry is completely finished (for the next five minutes).

So I had to come up with a hobby. (Other than having meltdowns about the future.) Hmm. This was tricky.

For awhile I was into pottery, and when we almost bought the ex-priest and ex-nun's loveshack I was even going to have my very own little outbuilding expressly for my work! Yes, because a nine-year-old would be producing so much ware it needed it's own space. Whatever, my parents loved me.

Then I was into knitting. But I am already way too close to a crazy cat lady (except I don't like cats and I'm the normal one in the family, so really I'm just the only 21-year-old around worried about decreasing fertility), so that won't work.

Then it came to me! Horseback riding! I love horseback riding. And I even have a horse! One that stares at me whenever I leave the house, with an air of judgement like, "Oh, yeah, remember me? From when you actually had hopes and dreams that weren't centered on primary sources?"

I had been thinking about it anyway. I mean, I do pilates every day. For what? So I can sit up straighter while Facebook stalking? That's pretty dumb. And while I was trying to do the stretches it occurred to me that the years of high heels have completely screwed with my legs (And my back. And my feet. And my self-esteem.), because they're so tight when I have to stretch out the back of my legs. After years of "heels down!" I used to have amazing back-of-my-legs stretchability. Now I just know how to run in five-inch spikes.

So I went riding today. And it was wonderful and even though we only walked because it's ridiculously wet here, I had so much fun.

Except that I also discovered that my horse has put on a little weight since the last time I used the tack, and the girth didn't close. Whatever, I always preferred bareback (although it did nothing for my legs, except get them covered in hair). Please excuse me while I google, "cheap English girths", because while I may want more in my life, the new path I chose for my life that involves graduate school for years and years? Isn't cheap, baby.

Tonight on Eleventh Hour

The poor lonely homely assistant inadvertantly uses drugged perfume for her big date and ends up in a harrowing situation.

Save her, Dr. Hood!!!

Exorcism + Hotch?

Dude, I am so there.

If I ever need to be exorcised? (Unlikely, given that I am incredibly stable and am not entirely sure I believe that exorcism actually does anything.) I'd like Hotch to be there.

I need a day off.

We still have no printer.

I still have two tests on Thursday that I'm freaking out about.

I still can't remember how much cotton Egypt exported in 1861 as opposed to 1865.

I hate the world.

I did talk to Colleen about Britain for two hours this afternoon. Which would be lovely, except neither of my Thursday tests are about Britain.

I want to go to sleep.

I voted for McCain. There's *nothing* sexy about that.

I just opened my e-mail account, murmuring a prayer that maybe a professor-any professor- had decided to cancel class and my actual life could catch up with my head, which mentally checked out and has been on Spring Break since sometime last Thursday I think and whatever dude, I cannot remember the difference between the Battle of Antietam and the Battle of Vicksburg and furthermore, why do you care? Have you nothing else going on in your life than grading these tests that come at an absolutely alarming frequency?

*ahem*

Imagine my surprise when the first e-mail was entitled "Vote Naked!"

Um. No thank you. I live in small town Wisconsin. It's really cold. And I don't want to see any of my neighbors voting au natural. It's embarrassing enough to keep forgetting what district you live in and then completely not be able to figure out where your street is on the little map that they provide for newcomers and stupid people who have lived here ten years.

Once I read the e-mail, it became apparent that it was an offer for an absentee ballot. Thus allowing me to vote for the Wisconsin Supreme Court in whatever manner of undress I so choose.

Along with this disturbing almost voyeur-esque interest in my voting whilst in the nude, Fair Wisconsin would like me to know that while it may not be "sexy like elections for President, senator, or governor," the Supreme Court is still very important!

Okay. First issue: Don't get me wrong. I loved voting for President for the first time last November. I was thrilled. I even waited until the actual day and went alone because the rest of my family sucked and did the absentee thing (I believe they were clothed.).

But I did not find it terribly arousing. While Obama certainly tops the list in this twisted "Marry, %#*, Push off a Cliff" game, I do not find him that attractive. Senator? My senators are Herb Kohl and Russ Feingold. I want to throw up a little even thinking about them in the same sentence as sex. And governor? Oh, my God, I think my poor laptop will give up if I discuss Jim Doyle and any bodily function except retching in a corner.

Say what you want about their politics (and I will come right out and say I disagree with all of them), there is not enough alcohol in the world.

Second issue: I love the Supreme Court. I think it's incredibly sexy. I mean, I'm talking about the federal one, and I don't mean the individuals, although I'm not sure I'd kick Roberts or Alito out of bed, but the whole thing- opinions and arguments and they're all really rich and could pay off my students loans and whatever, I'm not looking for much, just buy me a doctorate and we'll get along just fine!

And I think enough of it will rub off and I'll vote for the state Supreme Court. Unless there's something tremendously important going on that day, like the relase of Kelly Clarkson's new CD.

Breaking News

I was kind of depressed today, really missing Grandpa. I don't know why, because it's not like a day or anything, but hey, I don't question. I just drink.

But then! Then, I found the most amazing shower curtain ever.

Yes. Shower curtain. Inspiring a level of devotion that only the cabinet doors have been able to.

Because it's grammar! On the shower curtain! I dork's dream.

Totally ordering. And then keeping. Because Hypothetical Gay Couple are NOT going to get my ironic shower curtain. Hell no.

(The bitterness? It's back.)

Taylor Swift is destroying the world.

This morning, at work.

Girl 1: Wait. So does Romeo, like, really think that she's dead?

Girl 2: Yeah.

Girl 1: Seriously?

Girl 2: Yeah. And then he kills himself and when she wakes up and sees him dead she kills herself.

Girl 1: *dawning* Oh...I've got it now.

*headdesk*

I do still love the "marry me Juliet/you'll never have to be alone" line, though.

Zero to Fangirl in 60 Seconds

No, not my amusing-to-Colleen brief fascination with Nic Cage, but rather remember last summer? When Johnny Depp came to town? And I had to be restrained from renting an apartment downtown and generally embarrassing myself? Well, we now have a trailer!

And, noting my initial horror at that tragic facial hair for part of the film (It had better be a short part of the film, or I will be really mad.), I'm pretty sure this is rivaling Finding Neverland- or Secret Window-hot.

(Not Captain Jack. Nothing will ever touch Captain Jack. Including, regrettably, me.)

So here we go. I can't wait!

Over-achiever.

Today in Irish history we learned about how the seven men that Queen Victoria banished after they staged a (failed) uprising went on to each do incredible things like becoming mayors and brigadier generals and the like. And I kept waiting for the one who didn't do anything.

Because that would be me. I would be the one who did nothing. In a hundred years when some professor is talking about my (failed) rebellion, they're going to have to say, "Kathleen lived with her parents in Grafton and once watches the Sunday marathon of SVU every week."

Fail.

I got a 110, though. *squee*

25 Wasn't Enough!

You clearly need to know MORE about me!

(Stolen from Stephanie.)

[ZERO] Who was your last text from?
Colleen. I think. Maybe my mom.

[ONE] Where was your default pic taken?
My house. It's a boring selfie. But my hair looks good.

[TWO] What is your favorite Movie?
Sense and Sensibility or Benny and Joon.

[THREE]Where did you last go?
School? Grandpa's to get the mail? The gas station? I did a lot today. None of it remotely interesting.

[FOUR] Have you ever lost a close friend?
Yes. Kind of. She didn't die, but I don't know where she is or what she's doing and I'm only sure she's still alive because I occasionally google her.

[FIVE] What is your current mood?
Exhausted but relieved that Minoan/Mycenaean art exam is over.

[SIX] Whats your brother(s) names?
John. Along with everyone else in our family.

[SEVEN] What are you doing now?
Writing this? Listening to depressing local news.

[EIGHT]Where do you wish you were right now?
Sleeping.

[NINE] Have a crazy side?
I don't think so. When I was little I did, now...definitely no.

[TEN] Ever had a near death experience?
Apparently things weren't so awesome when I was born.

[ELEVEN] Something you do a lot?
Freak out about school?

[TWELVE] Angry at anyone?
Ahahaha. YES.

[THIRTEEN] What is stopping you from getting the person you like?
This is a weird question, and I'm not answering it.

[FOURTEEN] How long have you liked this person?
Why do you care?

[FIFTEEN] Is there anyone you would do anything for?
Yes.

[SIXTEEN] Who do you think about when you are falling asleep?
I am not usually thinking about anyone in particular, but if I do think about you, chances are I'll dream about you too. Which has led to many awkward internal conversations in the morning where I go, "Seriously? That person?"

[SEVENTEEN] Who was the last person you talked to on the phone?
I think it was my mom. Or maybe Mary.

[EIGHTEEN] The Last person/thing you ate?
A.)I'm infinitely disturbed by the first part. B.) Yogurt. I love yogurt.

[NINETEEN] what's your fathers name?
Joe.

[TWENTY] Who do you trust right now?
It's cheesy, but I trust my parents. And I'm pretty sure that my siblings would intentionally screw me over. Most of my friends.

[TWENTY-ONE] Who do you not trust right now?
A few people. Including the ones that made me mad and sad.

[TWENTY-TWO] Where do you want to be for Spring Break?
Apparently at Old World Wisconsin.

[TWENTY-THREE] What is one thing you would change about yourself?
I don't like my nose. At all.

[TWENTY-FOUR] Describe your life in one word?
Laundry.

[TWENTY-FIVE] Would you say you have filled your lifetime goals?
I lived to 21! That's pretty cool! I'm working on the rest of them.

[TWENTY-SIX] What should you be doing right now?
Nothing, really. I guess I could be writing my secondary source analysis, but that's on the schedule for tomorrow. Oh, I should be putting the laundry in dryer, but it's, like, all the way across the house.

[TWENTY-SEVEN] What are you listening to?
The depressing local news.

[TWENTY-EIGHT] Last people who gave you a hug?
My mom. God, this sucks. My mom has been like the answer to everything. I need a life.

[TWENTY-NINE] Who was the last person who yelled at you?
I don't know. I don't get yelled at. Oh, it was my dad. Who woke me up to tell me to turn off the light in the living room that I didn't know was on because I was in my room. With the door closed. Asleep. Grrr.

[THIRTY] Do you act differently around the person you like?
I look better. But other than that, no.

[THIRTY-ONE] What is your natural hair color?
What it is now- I don't color it. Auburn/red/blond.

[THIRTY-TWO] Who was the last person to make you laugh?
Colleen- "Why is it that we spend all our time trying to creep him out???"

[THIRTY-THREE] Who was the last person to make you sad?
Probably Grandpa. For dying. But it's not really his fault. (Shut up, I know it's been seven months. Leave me alone.)

[THIRTY-FOUR]Who is the last person who made you mad?
I'm not answering this. But there is a person.

[THIRTY-FIVE] Is your hair curly or straight?
Crazy curly naturally, but I straighten it.

[THIRTY-SIX] Has anyone ever called you "scrumptious"
I sincerely doubt it. But if anyone would like to, I think that would be hilarious.

[THIRTY-SEVEN] Do you have a best friend?
Yes.

[THIRTY-EIGHT] Held hands with the opposite sex in the past 3 day?
I don't think so.

[THIRTY-NINE] Do you use smiley faces on the computer?
Yes. :) I should stop, it's not very mature.

[FORTY] Have you ever changed clothes in a vehicle?
Yes, and I am always amazed at how much more difficult it is than I had planned.

[FORTY-ONE] Are you happy with life right now?
Pretty much. I mean, I'm depressed about certain things and I'm getting an ulcer from this semester, but yes, in general, I'm happy.

[FORTY-TWO] Are you currently jealous?
Kind of. Not really.

[FORTY-THREE] What jewelry are you currently wearing?
Earrings, my cross, ring, watch. Wow. That sounds like a lot. But it's really not gauche, I promise.

[FORTY-FoUR] What were you doing Friday night?
Probably going to bed early because I have work early Saturday morning and I'M EXHAUSTED.

[FORTY-FIVE] Have you ever broken someones heart?
I don't know. I doubt it. Stalker Boy was a trifle disappointed that I didn't want to bear his socially-awkward children, but I'm not sure he was heartbroken.

[FORTY-SIX] Approximately how many "25 Random Facts" tags have you received?
A bunch.

[FORTY-SEVEN] Is there anybody you're really disappointed in right now?
Yes.

[FORTY-EIGHT] What is the most attractive thing in a person of the opposite sex?
Nothing in particular. I don't like people that are too pretty or perfect, though.

[FORTY-NINE] How late did you stay up last night and why?
Ten o'clock. Okay, but I got up at five this morning. I know, I know, I'm an old woman.

[FIFTY] Have you ever dated someone longer than a year?
No.

Is 8:58 too early to go to bed?

I don't think so.

Because I have an open notebook with various periods of Helladic, Cycladic, and Minoan art and architecture and while I managed to convince myself that I have them all memorized (EN Neo Nikomedia, MN Sesklo, LN Dimini, FN Chalcolthic, EHI Eutresis, EHIIA Korakou, EHIIB Lefkandi, EHIII Tiryns, ECI Grotto-Pelos, ECIIA Keros-Syros, ECIIB/ECIIIA Kastri Group, ECIIIB/MCI Phylokopi and yes, I did that all from memory), I think that if I think about what happens in each of them (People move in together! And build houses! And make pottery! Whoo!) I will quite possibly throw up.

So we're done with that.

Good night.

(Oh, I will say that that Cuba paper? Before we turned them in she made us underline our own thesis statements. I'm thinking she won't be reading them too hard. This is a good sign.)

The Greatest Generation.

John: Dad! I need you to sign this permission slip saying I can watch Saving Private Ryan.

Me: Oooh, fantastic movie, but that opening scene...wow, that's somebody's intestine.

Repressed!Dad: Why? Are there nudies?

Me: Oh gross.

John: It's about D-Day!

Me: They didn't stop to have sex on the beaches of Normandy.

Repressed!Dad: Well, I don't know, it's Hollywood.

Colleen: Well, of course you have a collective memory about the '60s...

I'm waiting for the lightening bolt.

He would be so mad at us right now.

I've had this thought twice today.

This afternoon we finished the dining room and put all the furniture back in. There was swearing and some scraping, and when we finally got everything set it looked amazing- but empty. And He would have been so pissed that we messed up his stuff.

Tonight Colleen started going through pictures and found some slides. Because for some reason the brilliant chemical engineer who worked on Project Manhattan decided that slides! Were the photo-viewing way of the future! Let's put everything on slides! So now my mother's entire childhood and good chunk or ours are on those damn little slides that you can never actually see because it requires a freaking movie theater to look at them...but I digress.

So John decides to set up the screen and projector. And there is swearing and scraping, and again, HE WOULD BE SO PISSED.