Yes. I want a doctorate from this place.

Overheard in the union:

Guy on phone: "Dude. I did something bad. *pause* No, really bad. *pause* No, I peed on her! *longer pause* Yeah, I was wasted. *pause* No, it wasn't that bad. She had to wake me up to tell me. She slept on the floor. This morning was fine. *pause* No, trust me. We'll talk about it later. I have to go to class."

Oh. My. Lord.

Sports-Related Revelations

- I really, really enjoy buying alcohol for myself. I never got off on any of the typical teenager/adolescent stuff, but these last nine months? Being able to buy my own drinks? SO MUCH FUN. I don't care if it's juvenile and immature. IT'S FUN.

-I really, really hope I put my license back in my purse.

-I did. Oh good.

- It takes me a few innings to figure out what's going on. Like, who's hitting the ball.

- Once I get it though, I'm not nearly as stupid as I may appear.

- Well. Okay. Still pretty stupid.

- Beyonce's Single Ladies coming on in a mixed crowd is just...awkward.

- Those little rakey guys who run around making the dirt all pretty again? My favorite part.

- Yep. Still pretty stupid.

A neurotic day

Scene: Kitchen, Chez Morena

Morena: *breezing in* So I want to register for the GRE this week...

Mom: *chokes* You want to what?

Morena: Register for the GRE. For later in the summer.

Mom: Oh. That makes more sense. I thought you said "take" and you don't just "take" tests without any freaking out.

Morena: *laughing* Oh, you mean this huge test that is the only test that will ever matter in my entire life? Hahaha. Yeah. No. Believe me. We're leaving plenty of time for the breakdowns.

Mom: That's what I figured.


***

On to the TMI portion of the afternoon...I have a teensy little rash. It's hardly disfiguring, and it's not on any weird body part or anything- just some bumps on my upper arms.

Of course, in my head, you know that scene from Star Trek? When Kirk is having a reaction to something? Well, McCoy could totally just jab me with the hypospray because I spent the afternoon alternately dying of skin cancer, second degree burns, or (my nemesis) meningitis.

Answers.yahoo.com had no answers at all, thank you very much. Except that I should call my dermy. Well, I don't want to call Dermy. Dermy is far away, and he requires a copay. I want answers.yahoo.com to tell me something that Sophie2459 in Arkansas used to make it go away.

Ultimately decided that it was probably just a sunburn rash and not anything deadly. Of course, meningitis is sneaky like that.

You're welcome, customers and fellow employees.

At work we tend to listen to banal music. Music that fluctuates from "Hey, I used to like this song before I heard it nineteen times," to "Well, this is mildly irritating," to "Dear God, would someone please make Celtic Women shut the frick up?"

Today we had Peter, Paul, and Mary. And I couldn't take it anymore. So I made an executive decision that we would listen to "Chess: The Musical" and "Phantom of the Opera".

But not on the usual random. Oh. No. All the way through. Because I don't know about you, but I cannot be expected to maintain a narrative flow when you're jumping between "Masquerade" and "Angel of Music" like a crazy person. Please. We are not barbarians.

I also discovered that I really need to go out and buy Chess, because there is a CD out there! With Josh singing on it! And I don't have it! And the seventeen-year-old fangirl that was has taken up residence in my head and won't stop screaming about it.

Drama, Drama, Drama

We watched Frost/Nixon tonight, and, well, Imladris called it a "liberal orgasm". My mom had different words for it, but yeah, it pretty much was two hours of OMG NIXON CRAZY BASTARD and oh, wait, he might be getting dementia or possibly be an alcoholic we're not sure so we're just going to shove it in at the end of the movie.

I'm no Nixon fan, don't get me wrong. But I've watched the actual Frost/Nixon interviews, and while he definitely admitted some wrongdoing, he certainly never admitted to obstruction of justice, and not a whole lot of other major bombshells were dropped. At no point did Kevin Bacon rush in to stop the tape before he admitted to criminal activity.

I would like to put forth the theory that, amongst all of the untruths, the one that said John Birt looked like Matthew McFayden is one of the most egregious.

From the Editor

My sister woud like you do know that she is not a raging anti-semite like she seems to think you would have inferred from last night's post. Except I'm not entirely sure why she thinks that, but rest assured, she loves the Jews.

I would like you to know that I saw The Proposal this evening and it was funny and cute and uplifting and way less tupid than other rom coms I've seen. (Except The Holiday. I think I am the only person in the ENTIRE world who liked that movie, but dammit, I did.)

It was just my mom and sister and me, and I really feel like we should have taken advantage of the fact that Dad wasn't there and gone to see Star Trek again. Because I want to go back. Badly. But without all the whining. That just killed my buzz.

I'm still Catholic, don't freak out.

I was kidding Colleen yesterday about her using God's name and she goes, "Yeah, well, you're a Jewish studies major. Don't tell me about my God."

It was funny.

And yeah, I think I'm probably going to end up replacing religious studies with that. Which means a.) I was weirdly prophetic a month ago, and b.) two down, one to go. By dropping religious studies, I can drop my Gnosticism class, which will bring my credit level down to 18, which is considered regular tuition, which means I don't need to come up with a $900 overload fee, which I don't have, which means I don't have to borrow like $700 from my parents again. All of that- is a good thing.

The thesis thing also kind of resolves itself if I end up doing this- obviously the only way to make it count as the Jewish studies capstone is to write about the Jews, so there you go. Thesis topic found.

Now I just need to take the GRE and I will be all ready to go back to school!

Kathleen's Very Big Adventure

For a variety of reasons that have to do with well, a variety of reasons, I am spending today at UnWed Mothers, as my father so wittingly calls it. (Eh, he doesn't donate to the alumni fund, what does it matter?) I've still got about two hours left (Hopefully less- I don't know a single professor that wants to go the whole damn lecture time on the first day of a summer class...but this is also the guy who willingly went to the Arctic for a few months. Clearly he's not sane.) and already I've had SO MANY EXPERIENCES.

We began the day by being enchanted by the swarms of College For Kids kids around campus. Back in the day when Morena was a Little Morena, Rockford would send her and Little Imladris to College For Kids. Oh, the imperial fun we had. Pretending to hold up Curtin Hall while Erin Shanley laid underneath it, having lunch, learning about the atmosphere, having lunch, playing magic tricks with the kindergarten teacher from St. Eugene's, having lunch outside...

(Little Morena really enjoyed eating lunch. Especially when it was a sub. Ironically, I never go to City Subs now. But damn did I love it when I was little!)

The Tsarevitch and Rockford would cool their heels in the "munion" as Tsarevitch would call it for what seemed hours but I'm sure was like 45 minutes in reality.

Good times.

Also, I didn't pay for the tuition.

Better times.

Then we arrived at the Grind, and I discovered my deeply disturbing almost Pavlovian response to school and muffins. I think it must have come from the Concordia days, but whenever I'm at school, I need a muffin. I didn't particularly want a muffin this morning (any more than I ALWAYS want a muffin), but I was at school! Clearly I needed one!

And you know what? IT WAS GOOD.

After licking the crumbs off the table (What? It's summer. There's no one here!) I did some internet stuff I've been meaning to do for like weeks but I haven't because when I'm home I turn into a Facebook drone, staring numbly at the screen as I wait for some girl I went to grade school with to post pictures of her semester abroad and maybe she'll be drunk in some of them. It's really hard to do that in an open computer lab, because it makes stalking feel more like stalking and constantly refreshing your own page? Just makes you look narcissistic.

Then I decided that I'm almost positively majoring in Jewish Studies at least as soon as I get up the courage to ask the Religious Studies woman for a dropped major form and that's currently freaking me out because she's a scary, scary woman who makes children and quite possibly Jesus weep.

All that soul-searching and career changing kind of jacked me up, so I went for a walk. Kind of roaming, because I didn't want to get too far west or south because I'm a chicken little white girl from Grafton. When I ended up on Oakland I started walking faster. Also discovered that I'm a stupid chicken little white girl from Grafton because dude, it's like 95 degrees outside and you just walked for an HOUR and twenty minutes? Shall we call the ambulance to rehydrate you now or wait until you actually collapse?

(I kid. I kept hydrated. With Holton Hall water, sweet nectar of the Gods.)

But then- then came the best part of the whole day. I saw- wait for it- BIG DADDY. And I'm not entirely sure he knew who I was but he smiled and asked me how I was and I had to refrain from saying, "Good! And you regrew that creepy little beard! Good call, you looked like a twelve-year-old without it!", instead replying, "Just fine. How are you?" whilst texting the whole creepy-beard-twelve-year-old thing to Katie. Because she obviously needed to know about this RIGHT THEN.

Ahh. Methods. How I miss you.

So. Now I think I may go eat some yogurt. Who knows what else may happen?

Day 4

It's the fourth day that it's been kind of warm out and damn, I do not like this. I always forget how much I don't like this. And then it comes back and SERIOUSLY HATE. I want to move to Alaska. Or Canada. Because while I certainly don't believe that they've figured out universal health care, I'm thinking that if someone gave me a band aid for free it would be better than the plan I'll be able to afford once I get kicked off of my parents' plan.

(September 11, 2012. I live in fear.)

What else happened today? Jon and Kate Plus 8 because Jon and/or Kate Plus 8 Most of the Time And On Alternating Weekends. That's kind of depressing.

My sister is starting a summer class tomorrow and I'm kind of jealous. That's kind of depressing too.

I am the Samuel Pepys of blogging.

Is anyone else into Restoration-era diarists? No. Just me. Oh...okay.

But at least Sam had, you know, like the Great Fire of London to write about. I...have a broken air conditioner in a house that other people are living in. And I'm planning on getting coffee tomorrow with friends. And e-mailing a neighbor as soon as I come up with a polite, non-crazy way of saying OH MY GOD PLEASE TELL ME EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE OKAY AND I'LL HAVE A JOB AT SOME POINT AND NOT DIE SURROUNDED BY ARTICLES THAT NEVER GOT PUBLISHED BUT NO CHILDREN.

Is there a non-crazy way of saying that?

I'm watching The Nanny. It is every bit as addictive as it was six years ago when Mary and I were able to quote it. God bless Nick at Nite.

Maybe Sam would have been more interesting if he were a slightly neurotic prospective grad student and had access to basic cable.

Reason #746 That I Never Joined the Peace Corps.

The heat. It annoys me to no end.

And I don't think it's totally fair that my mom is all "Oh! Those poor people! They can't sleep in this heat!" and rushing around getting repair people for Tenant Family when I am wasting away here in a puddle of what used to be my undereye concealor and will be sleeping in a room with closed windows. Pssh. Just because I'm not paying quite as much to live here. Whatever.

Inordinately Upset

Bradley Whitford and Jane I-can't-spell-her-last-name file for divorce.

Oh, my God.

Who's next? My parents?

Jon and Kate had better be announcing that they've decided to work it out on Monday. I don't think I could handle two breakups of marriages that have nothing to do with me in one week.

Dear Grandpa,

Sixty years ago, you got married. Eleven years ago, we celebrated your 49th anniversary because we knew Grandma (despite your best efforts) was not going to see the 50th. One year ago, we spent the evening celebrating a variety of things and you were happy and healthy. Today there was a cross next to your name in the bulletin and some other family moved into your house.

They're nice. It kills me to admit it, but they are. You'd probably like their little girl. Now, at least. Probably not ten years ago. Also, they want a babysitter, and you neglected to stash a couple hundred grand in a Cayman Islands account that would cover my tuition, so that's a good thing.

I've already done the whole "look how far we've come post", and I won't do it again. But I really can't believe how much this has impacted us, and when I think that a year ago it didn't exist? It's been...unbelievable.

But you know what? I'm glad it happened. Not you dying. Because even though yes, you're happier; yes, the economic crash would have probably killed you anyway; and yeah, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have handled that whole cancer thing well, I still refuse to say that it's a better thing that you're gone. That just plain sucks.

And do not for a second think that I enjoyed this, or felt like, oh, I'm glad we have a project. (See above link.)

But it taught me a lot. Things that I never anticipated happening happened. My family changed. I found out who my friends were. I found out that it takes a special kind of friend to stick their head into a wet oil-painted cabinet because you need help and then ask, "Okay. How obnoxious do you want me to be?" I found out that I'm really glad I have those friends. I've gotten into screaming fights with my immediate family over that house, but I also spent time with my family that I wouldn't take back.

I think you would have been proud of us. All three kids maintained fantastic GPAs during this whole thing, if I do say so myself. Daddy worked as hard as he did when Grandma was dying, never once saying, "Hey, not my family." Mommy worked harder than anyone, and through the worst circumstances imaginable. I whined. But not a lot.

Mostly I'm glad we could do it for you. It would have killed you (I really need to stop saying that.) to have lost the house, and it would have been lost. Hopefully it will stay in the family. I mean, at some point I'll be employable, right? (It would have helped if you had passed along some of your engineering acumen, though.) Hopefully someday your great-grandchildren will grow up there.

So, Grandpa. It sucked. But I'm glad you didn't have to do it, and I'm glad we could do it for you.

It's been an honor.

Love,

Kathleen

P.S. Okay. We got a little bit of paint on your hat. I'm sorry. It's only because we couldn't bear to take it down.

Spectacular Amounts of Stupid

I am paler than the moon. I have red hair and blue eyes and I frequently get red just be moving. ("Did you just get back from vacation?" "No, that's...just my skin.") Do you get the picture?If I sparkled a little I could be in the Twilight books. (I'd probably have to jack up the sexual repression like 1,000x.) I know from sunburn. I've gotten some terrible sunburns in my lifetime- one when I was so young that my parents called me "Lobster Baby". When I was about twelve I got one so bad that my eyeballs were burned and I couldn't really see for like a whole day. And a few years ago I spent the day on the lake without anything- yeah, that was pleasant. A week later when I could finally shower, at least . I know better than to go outside without sunscreen. I use SPF 70 almost every day and reapply when I go outside for a long period of time.

Unless. Unless it's thunderstorming in the morning and then it stops and I go "Yay!" and bound outside to take a four-mile walk without realizing that a.) it's 80 degrees outside and b.) UVA and UVB travel through clouds, dude.

Yeah. My chest looks really good right now.

Other act of stultifying stupidity? I was actually at Wal-Mart and did not, of course, purchase anything that would make this feel better because "Pssh. It's not that bad!"

Four hours later I have an unbelievably pungent vinegar-soaked paper towel compress draped over my boobs. So now I smell really nice, too!

I'd better shower before I do anything tomorrow.

Still don't have a lot going on.

In Grandpa's house news- we are officially finished. There is not even anything else that we conceivably do. It's not the half-assed, "Oh, we're totally almost finished you know, except for pulling up the carpet and doing the floors and cleaning the closet and the basement...yeah, almost finished" feeling we've had for months. The carpet is gone. The basement is clean. There's nothing in the closets except for some pink paint that I started ignoring during my "screw it" phase. Oh, and the water in the upstairs bathroom is flowing just fine. After we paid a plumber to unscrew the faucet and knock out all the dirt. Yep. We rock at this home improvement thing.

In thesis news, I'm still totally into the Jews. But I'm also thinking maybe post-conciliar church? You know, the whole Eucharistic prayer-in-the-vernacular, receiving-under-both-species part that actually had nothing to do with the council? I don't know. I'm just thinking out loud in HTML.

In other news- I found a lovely little floaty dress for $6 today. It's too big everwhere but the bust, so I'll have to be pinned into it, but SIX DOLLARS. *love*

In news that has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with me- If I ever befriend the Pinkett-Smiths, I'm not inviting them to my house. Seriously, Jada? A bedroom? That's just rude.

In news that unfortunately has everything to do with me, my hair is filthy. And I'm too lazy to wash it.

Fail

I don't like summer. I don't like working (haha, as though I had a job that actually scheduled me occasionally), and I don't like being bored. That leaves school. In two and a half months. *existential sigh*

(I can't exactly pay for that either, right now. I'm ignoring that.)

Kind of new topic, I've spent the last month reading stupid books because while I love school, I also really love having time to read stupid books that don't have anything to do with ancient Mycenaean architecture, but lately I've gotten back into the history/theology thing because OH MY LORD I SERIOUSLY NEED A THESIS TOPIC.

No. I'm not kidding. I've got nothing. I need to stay within the historical implications of Vatican II. Other than that- zilch. Any ideas? Seriously. I need help.

(Possibly psychiatric.)

15 Books

I'm tired and torn between being deleriously happy and deleriously weepy that we're finished, so you're getting a meme.

Don't take too long to think about it. Fifteen books you've read that will always stick with you. First fifteen you can recall in no more than 15 minutes in no particular order. Tag 15 friends, including me because I'm interested in seeing your fifteen too.

1.) Rebecca, Daphne DuMaurier
2.) Castles in the Air, Judy Corbett
3.) Emma Brown, Claire Boyland
4.) Betsy's Wedding, Maud Hart Lovelace
5.) The Historian, Elizabeth Kostova
6.) Bridget Jones' Diary, Helen Fielding
7.) Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte
8.) Gone with the Wind, Margaret Mitchell
9.) War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy
10.) The Nine, Jeffrey Toobin
11.) Wuthering Heights, Emily Bronte
12.) Bleak House, Charles Dickens
13.) Les Miserables, Victor Hugo
14.) The Count of Monte Cristo (authentic 1500-page version), Alexander Dumas
15.) Seabiscuit, Laura Hillenbrand

Facebook Statuses I Would Have Had Today If I Had an iPhone.

But I don't. So I just texted them to myself. Along with a grocery list, a list of things we still have to finish tomorrow, and a reminder to sew up the back of my dress.

Kathleen's hair is disgusting. 9:30 AM.

Kathleen is buying cheese (what the hell?) 10:25 AM.

Kathleen spends so much time hanging out in the church parking lot waiting for John that maybe she should convert. 10:45 AM.

Kathleen you want to know what's funny? Watching a grumbling girl individually ring up 15 different moving boxes because Home Depot's self check-out setup SUCKS. That's what. 11:15 AM.

Kathleen wonders why Miley Cyrus has been on the radio three times already this morning. And more importantly, why her song is growing on her? 11:23 AM

Kathleen is laughing because a guy just walked past in short shorts. Ahahaha. 11:25 AM.

Kathleen the message on a sign outside a church near my house: The Bread of Life never gets stale. Oh, come on. It's the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ Sunday. That's borderline disrespectful. 11:31 AM.

Kathleen gets to cut the grass. Oooh. Never done this before. Exciting! 11:35 AM.

Kathleen okay, this is harder than it looks. 12:10 PM.

Kathleen thinks that, since she has never mowed the lawn before, it would have been nice if someone had mentioned that it required a sports bra. Ouch. 12:45 PM.

Kathleen thinks that she can forget asking for a letter of recommendation from the neighbor, because she just sprayed lawn clippings all over their driveway. 12:53 PM.

Kathleen wow, my already filthy hair looks really pretty after cutting the grass for an hour. 12:55 PM.

Kathleen- this so counts as my daily Pilates. 12:59 PM.

Kathleen can confidently rule out lawn service as a possible career option. 1:05 PM.

Kathleen is attempting to see God in everyone. 2:00 PM.

Kathleen oh, thank God, Mike's hard lemonade. 5:00 PM.

Things I Learned Today

- I am the most fun person to see Angels and Demons with. I don't know if it's the...appreciation (I refuse to call it a fetish, as Colleen so helpfully suggested) or what, but I am a damn good time during that movie.

- I'm turning into a lightweight. Time was, I could finish a large concrete mixer and be all, "Mmm, that was tasty. Now. Can we get more?" But my goodness, half of mine is in the freezer now. I'm getting old.

- Apparently when my parents were young TV didn't go through the night? And they would play the National Anthem and then it would go a test pattern every night? Huh. No idea. I'm torn between thinking this is adorably nostalgic or disturbingly nationalistic. I'm going with nostalgic.

- It is officially easier to get the Israelis and the Palestinians together than it is to coordinate Pizza Hut and Fiddleheads work schedules so we can all go to Old World Wisconsin. There is an approximately 4-hour window in mid-July, so Eagle here we come!

- Old World Wisconsin is friggin' expensive.

- As is Polish Fest.

- And the Renaissance Faire.

- Maybe you pay more for the "e" on the end.

- There a ton of Star Trek flair on Facebook. All of them probably don't need to be sent to my sister/mom/Mary. But they have been.

Very Serious Historian has Very Serious Business to discuss.

I don't know if I ever wrote about this, but I probably did because during the semester, most of my posts are OMG TEST COMING GONNA FAIL PHEW THANK GOD GOT AN A. On one of the tests I had for Ireland, I completely forgot to write anything about the Irish literary revival. It ended up not costing me that much (Favoritism. You're doing it right.) and I got a 98, but I was still kind of pissed. I really enjoy getting 110s. (Shocking. I know.)

Anyway. I've been watching the movie Nora and I am fairly certain that if we had been allowed to watch that in class instead of listening to a lecture, I never ever would have forgotten to put James Joyce in there.

Well. Except the movie is basically soft-core porn and it took me like twenty minutes to watch because I fast-forwarded through most of the awkward bits because whatever, I don't care how old I am it makes me uncomfortable okay? I had to leave the window when two birds started doing it the other day. So maybe communal educational viewing wouldn't be the best idea ever.

It also made me wonder how close to the truth it was. Was James Joyce really a crazy manipulative douche? Because wow, if that movie is correct, no wonder Ulysses is so hard to get through.

James, I hear you, man. I myself am something of a control freak. In fact, I had a moment this evening when it occurred to me that I would make a fantastic anorexic if I didn't like food so much. This is going to sound angsty and overly-dramatic and make me seem like a 300 lb agoraphobe on LiveJournal, and that's really not true. It wasn't even an incident, it was just a few sentences today that pissed me off and made me mad and my first thought was "Okay, what can I control instead?" Honestly. If I didn't have the relationship with complex carbohydrates that I do, I'd probably weigh 90 lbs.

ANYWAY. I hear you, is what I'm saying. But dude, sometimes you just have to let go.

So. I'm definitely advocating more Ewan McGregor movies in History 353.

They should put that on the brochure.

I have three major goals for this summer. I need to take the GRE, and I need to formulate a thesis topic, and I need to make $900 for my overload class.

I'm just ignoring the GRE thing completely because it makes me want to throw up when I think about it, so other than following the little study schedule in the book, I'm not thinking about it.

But what if I told you I could take care of the other two goals in a single stroke? Wouldn't that be awesome? Yes. Yes it would.

Remember this? Haha. Yeah. See. I'm kind of sort of considering ditching the religious studies thing and doing Jewish studies instead. This announcement garnered absolutely not even a blink from my family, who continued making their nachos as though I hadn't just announced a change in career paths.

(Well. Okay. It does happen weekly frequently.)

(It's no excuse.)

I have a bunch of reasons for this. I'm totally into the whole second major thing, and even religious studies. But, ugh, it's just a hassle. Seriously. 21 credits, a huge overload fine, a class I'm not guaranteed an A in, it's just a pain in the ass. Jewish studies is significantly more contained, and I love all the classes, and I've heard that it's pretty easy to meet the guidelines.

I also think it may be more beneficial to my career path to be specialized in an ancient monotheistic religion. Because I honestly don't think that any theology department at a Catholic university is going to look at my transcript that said I got an A in African art history at a public university and say wow, that is a fantastic candidate right there! I think if they looked at my transcript that said I spent a lot of time studying the Hebrew culture and the Bible as well as contemporary sources? That might make me look better.

Also! It would save me $900! Which is a major selling point. In fact, I think it should be on the website- "declare a major in Jewish studies and save $900!" Who knows, maybe I'm pre-approved for a 0% APR credit card too!

Oh. The other issue- thesis topic. Yeah. See. I technically don't have one yet. The only thing that remotely struck me was looking at Nostra Aetate and discussing the impact of Vatican II on the Jews because- and I am not even going to lie- I know that I can get a professor who absolutely loves me on the reading committee. I am so not above taking advantage. But this would actually fulfill the capstone for Jewish studies too, I think.

So. Now I'm very confused.

See? You thought all that major-changing business was over after freshman year, didn't you? Haha. Double major, baby. The option for those of us who don't handle stress well and want to see how we'd do with more of it.

Reasons why Law and Order: UK is AMAZING.

-The totally awesome opening, in which the "people" are protected the forces of the Crown.

-The fact that Freema Ageyman is in it. I love Donna, but I think Martha might be my favorite companion, and is definitely prettier than Billy Piper. I'm glad she's working again.

- The Order part? Involves wearing wigs. God. If I lived in London, I would so have chosen law school.

-The fact that it's so great I'm ignoring that there is no such thing as "UK" because the UK isn't really a single country.

- The desktop screensavers on the computers? A royal seal with the initials "ER". AWESOME. I think I want to have Elizabeth Regina emblazoned on my desktop.

-The tough but lovable head detective. Some things never change...

-The fact that one of the witnesses spoke French. FRENCH!!! Tough but lovable detective apparently was hiding his ability to speak it fluently, too. As you do.

-When they object in court, it's not "your honor!" it's "m'lady!" or "my lord!" AHAHAHAHAHA.

-It's not "The State of New York v. Smith", it's "Crown v. Smith." Why don't we have a Crown again? Stupid rebels.

-Do I have to mention the wigs again? Because I will.

-Seriously, I'm moving to England and becoming a lawyer and hanging out with Martha from Doctor Who all day. New life goal.

Oh, Dick Wolf. I didn't think you could ever supplant my love for Goren/Eames, but I think that you have.

Undomestic Goddess

I'm making baba ganoush. Except I don't like any of the spices that are in the recipe. So I'm using other ones. So I'm thinking it's less baba ganoush and more seasoned eggplant mush.

The recipe called for roasting the eggplant. I don't know how to roast an eggplant. Or, indeed, anything. I called my dad. Obviously it was hilarious to him. "Hi, Dad, it's me. I need to roast an eggplant...why are you laughing...seriously...stop laughing..."

Wait until he finds out I'm going to use his food processor that I don't technically have any clue how to work. Who's laughing now?

ETA: The recipe turned out well. A little garlicy, but tasty on pita bread. I managed to roast the eggplant and not start any electrical fires with the food processor. A good day.

Despite what follows, I am fairly intelligent.

I'm not a music person. I like music. It's lovely and it is necessary to pass the time whilst walking or running or something, but I'm not a music geek who has thousands of songs that I absolutely love. When I got my iPod, I figured 500 songs? Probably like three hundred too many. Imagine my dismay when I was greeted with a scary graphic the last time I hooked my iPod up to my laptop that told me I only had a fraction of a percentage left of available space. What will I do? What happens if Katy Perry releases another nauseatingly catchy single? WHAT THEN WORLD???

So I had to do a little pruning. I sat down with a box of Kleenex and prepared to get very emotional at sending some of my favorite songs ever off to the unseen depths of my iTunes library, never to be heard from again. Until I realized that wow, I have a lot of crap on there, and yeah, most of these I've never actually listened to.

Here are some of the tracks that ended up being pulled-

Beethoven's Ninth Symphony- I really can't stand like fifty-seven of the fifty-nine minutes of it, and that is wasting a valuable hour of real estate here. We have important Britney Spears songs that could be utilizing this space.

Daughters, John Mayer- I hate John Mayer, and I have a lovely relationship with my father. This entire song is thus unnecessary. Gone.

Don't Stop Believin', Journey- Excellent song, but who needs Journey when you have the Glee cast? I certainly don't.

Have a Nice Day, Bon Jovi- Is it just me or does Bon Jovi really only sing one song? I have It's My Life and Living on a Prayer- I think I'll be okay without this one.

Human, The Killers- Meh. I'm over the alt-rock. And it reminds me of painting cabinets. *shivers*

Kiss From a Rose, Seal- I loved this song when it was the backing track for a Phantom of the Opera fan video. On it's own? Notsomuch. Although now that I have safely passed through puberty, I'm not sure I'd be so fond of the POTO fan vid anymore, either.

Numb/Encore, Linkin Park w/Jay-Z- I'm a little white girl. Why do I bother?

O Fillii et Fillae- It's not Easter anymore, and this is a freaking long song.

Over my Head (Cable Car), The Fray- What the frick is the Fray still doing on my iPod? It is NOT 2006 anymore.

Romeo and Juliet, The Killers- Um. Yeah. We have Taylor Swift's Love Story now? I have no need for your 2007 musical retelling.

Impossible, Kelly Clarkson- I am generally in favor of the new Kelly CD (as I am in favor of most things Kelly does, including putting on a few lately, if only because it makes me feel better), but this song kind of drags. Dumped.

Whew. Right? I know what you're thinking. That was tough. But the songs that are left must form an amazing, 400 song-long playlist of AMAZING music, right? RIGHT? Well. Here are some of the songs left on my iPod-

Stacy's Mom, Fountains of Wayne- I freaking love this song. I've always wanted to name my first little girl Anastacia, and then I'd be Stacy's mom. That makes me SOOO happy.

Leave (Get Out), JoJo- Shut up and stop judging me.

Don't Stop Believin', Glee Cast- BEST SONG EVER OMG.

Godspell Soundtrack- Because what if I want to listen to it the whole way through?

TWO versions of Your Song- Sometimes I'm feeling classic and sometimes I just really want Ewan McGregor (to sing to me.)

Enough Cher songs to make a drag queen weep- But I love them! ALL of them!

Hooked on a Feeling- Because I was raised by a guy who frequently laments that NO music will EVER be as good as the AMAZING tunes of the '70s. I maintain that that is okay, because our hair is better.

I Wanna Be Bad, Willa Ford- I am quite possibly the least bad person you have ever met.

Lacrymosa, Evanescence- See? See what they did there? They made it "Lacrymosa" instead of "Lacrimosa". Because I am secretly an emo child.

My Heart Will Go On, Celine Dion- Because I'm still not over being forbidden from seeing Titanic in theaters.

Truly, Madly, Deeply (UK Radio Edit), Cascada- Oh, you know what? I give up. I suck.

Curses, J.J. Abrams.

I saw Star Trek with the fam yesterday, and my father was deeply disturbed by it. Apparently the whole time travel thing seriously messed with his head and now his entire universe is over and nothing makes sense anymore and how will we know which horizon the sun will rise on tomorrow?

He's a little overly dramatic.

I had a lovely time. I'm not going to front, it took me like two viewings until I realized that there was any time travel and whatever dude, everyone is ridiculously more attractive, so why are you whining?

We attempted watching an episode tonight, but he spent the entire hour going, "But that couldn't happen! Because they didn't fix it!"

I may have to kill him if this keeps up much longer.

Dear Potential Bridegrooms:

I'm watching Dateline. Never a good thing. This means that I will spend the weekend convinced that I will be sold into white slavery/murdered while on a run (except I don't run)/discover that my sister is my mother. Or, in this case, murdered by my new husband on while on a scuba dive on our honeymoon.

So, potential mates. Here's what's going to go down on our honeymoon. (We already know what won't be.) We will be going to Northern Ireland. I don't care that it's winter and it's cold and it's rainy and you want to do something that involved a wetsuit. We will go out to brunch. A lot. I may take a nap. A lot. (I love naps.) I will drag you to various sites and go on, ad nauseum, about the Troubles. Then we'll go have dinner.

At no point will I be putting on a swimsuit. At no point will we be doing a sport that I don't want to do. At no point will we be doing anything remotely dangerous (except when I make you go the Falls Road.)

Once we get home I will most likely be sick of you, and then you can go on your adventure vacation on your own. I'll be at home. Spending your money on morning lattes at Starbucks.

I hope this will be satisfactory.

Love,
Kathleen

Although I could have done without this nose.

Happy anniversary to my parents, who have been nauseatingly into each other for 26 years today. Honestly. Not in a weird PDA sort of way, but wow, they really like each other. More than I think I could ever like another person for five minutes much less a quarter of a century.

That being said, I really like my blue eyes and red hair (Even if the woman at the DMV said it wasn't red enough to put on my driver's license.) And your previous significant others were nothing to write home about. Dad? The mortician? Honestly? (Although she'd probably let me watch Crminal Minds in the living room.) And Chet? Good Lord, Mom, was your taste in men horrible. So I'm glad you two found one another.

And I've been reading a lot of Jodi Picoult lately, and I'd also like to thank you for never suing me, saying that my birth was a wrongful birth, aborting me, giving me up for adoption, growing me in a petri dish so that I could give a kidney to my cancer-ridden sister, ignoring my bulimia, discounting my ability to talk to God, or getting me killed in a school shooting. (Goodness. That woman does drama.)

My emotional nakedness! Let me show you it!

We showed the house today, for the first time. To a lovely woman who was perfectly nice and didn't say anything like, "Hey, why did you drop so much paint on the floor?"

(She did say "Oh! How nice! A small dining area!" about the perfectly large formal dining room, but I digress.)

But she obviously did not understand. No one understands. No one understands what we've gone through to get that house to be adorable and bright and cheery (other choice adjectives from today).

With the caveat that I love that house and I knew it had to be done, these have been the worst ten months of my life. I'm counting the months Grandpa lived with use and both times my mom had cancer. We've been through hell and back with that house, and no one who is going to rent it will understand that.

No one understands the horror of having to walk in there in August. I don't think anyone is ever ready for that, but it was horrible. I still spend half the time I'm there crying. Today I started crying because I looked at the little strip of paper on the register.

My mom got %*#(&%# CANCER halfway through this thing, and other than arranging to have the floor delivered a week later, we didn't stop.

I don't think anyone will ever understand how it felt that day I freaked out and had to call Mary from the end of the driveway. No one will understand what it felt like to hear them throwing your grandparents' furniture in a dumpster. No one will ever understand what it's like to finally not be able to take it anymore and have a major meltdown in front of the electrician.

Yes. It's freaking adorable. Wanna see the scars from when I burned my wrist or fell down the stairs or impaled my shoe and part of my foot on a nail? I remember painting the back hall while my dad was listening to the Brewers play in that wild card game last fall. They're half way through another damn season already! THAT'S WHY IT'S ADORABLE.


So I'm thinking that we need to put out before and after pictures, or maybe hand people a card with the URL for this page, just so that they can truly appreciate what a fantastic house that is. Because the fact that we made it go from this monstrosity-

...to this-

...in ten months while dealing with unbelievable grief that doesn't seem to be getting any better, starting college, going to school, full-time jobs, and major medical problems? As Aunt Helen said last night, it's miraculous.

Now. If we could just have another miracle that would allow me to graduate and get a job that would allow me to live there, that would be fantastic.

Because I understand. And I will never forget.

Difficult to Please

I rarely get to control the remote during primetime. It's not that everyone doesn't want to watch what I want to, it's just it's always a communal experience. But tonight Mom and Dad are gone, Colleen's at a friend's, and John is upstairs being angsty probably I don't know. So I get to watch whatever I want.

And I've spent the last two hours watching Nat Geo. Because I'm a huge dork. Also, I'm always looking for possible career paths for my worthless degrees and talents. Over the last forty-seven minutes of the show about mummies, I realized that I couldn't be an anthropologist. Because while I could probably tell you all about the cultural influences that led to a society desiring to consecrate their dead, like hell I could identify a needle mark on the neck through which embalming fluid was injected.

The head anthropologist on this show looks like he's about twelve, and kind of resembles the kid who plays Neville (I totally almost typed Chamberlain right there- thank you, Dr. Crain.) from Harry Potter. I have decided to marry him and maybe National Geographic pays enough to cover my student loan bills. This kid is adorable, I tell you.

However, we may have some problems. He got my hopes up at the beginning of the hour. The show focuses on how all these mummies that are HUNDREDS of years old managed to be preserved in the Sicilian catacombs. There was chanting and background footage of medieval monks and the narrator kept saying HUNDREDS OF YEARS over and over again. Dude. You just won out of Ace of Cakes on Food Network.

But then as the show progressed, these mummies turned out to be not that old. Like, most were from the eighteen hundreds. The major one that is remarkably lifelike died in 1920. Are you kidding me? Maybe she just hasn't started decaying yet because that was only like EIGHTY YEARS AGO.

Okay. I get it. Keeping a body around in open air for eighty years is a remarkable scientific feat. But I remain unimpressed. I wanted middle ages, y'all.

Yes! You get my thoughts on theology AND Jon & Kate Plus 8!

I know, right? You're thrilled you know me.

Okay, first. Jon and Kate Plus 8. Or, Kate Being A Martyr Plus 8 and Jon Off Doing Something Else. Which is how it's been this season.

Okay. After watching this episode (and wiping up the drool of excitement when THEY WENT TO CHARM CITY CAKES!!! THEY PLAYED WITH MARY ALICE!!! I WANT TO PLAY WITH MARY ALICE!!!), I kind of think the whole drama is mostly contrived. I mean, thought that before, too, but the premiere was so depressing and practically ended with a custody agreement. This one was more, oh, let's give one parent a reason to go be on their own but they're all still living together so things must not be that bad. Except everybody is mopey.

(EXCEPT WHEN THEY GET TO PLAY WITH MARY ALICE!!!)

However, if they actually do break up, I'd like to offer a loving home for Aaden. I love that little kid.

***

I got to Grandpa's this morning, and yep. My flowers had been replanted. My artistic staggering? Gone. They're in a straight row now. DO NOT WANT.

*sniff*

Meanwhile, I'm having a teensy bit of trouble with this other-people-living-there part. As we established earlier, I DON'T LIKE PEOPLE TOUCHING MY STUFF.

I like people touching my countertop even less.

***

So apparently Mel Gibson got some Russian pregnant? And People.com is obsessed with it? They called in "experts" to discuss the doctrinal ramifications of Mel's little...um...slip, which seriously makes me wonder who their expert is. That Jesuit from the Colbert Report? That would be pretty cool. I love him. I kind of just want to follow him around. Maybe he could introduce me to the guy who plays the Captain on Criminal Intent.

Anyway, apparently Mel is forgoing Communion. Which is nice, although I don't really feel comfortable judging him. (Shut up. Sometimes I'm not judgemental.) But what's more concerning is that it appears that his little chapel? Is actually a weird new religion. They keep mentioning how they'll have to return to the "mainstream" Roman Catholic Church to get an annulment, etc.

I always thought it was just a really conservative community that offered a Tridentine Mass, not this weird "traditionalist" Catholic sect that's not normal Catholicism.

Huh. That's strange, and it makes Mel Gibson seem even more crazy.

***

I'm sneezing. This had better not be the cold that the Artist Formerly Known as the Boy brought home. I will kill him.