Randomness During My First Weekend Off In Long, Long Time

Good moring, all. It's nine-thirty on Sunday morning, when I'm usually asleep, at Mass, or at work. But I had to get up to drive Colleen to work, I went to Mass last night so I could drive Colleen to work, and frankly they don't want to pay me any more after the full-time week I put in last week.

I don't know what to do on Sunday mornings. I'm all alone here, and there's nothing to do. I could clean. My house is filthy because of the full-time week put in last week, and there's some serious laundryage up the chute. Or I could blog. Yep. Definitely blog.

Today will be rather random, mostly because I'm working on about five hours of sleep and a venti iced latte from Starbucks. *Suspend disbelief here for a moment, because I do, after all, work at a coffee shop. A subsidiary of Starbucks, even* Seriously. $4.07 for a coffee??? It's two shots of espresso and milk. Gah.

But I was feeling entitled after driving to and back from Cedarburg twice, once with an apron. Hey, I'm just happy I didn't get a ticket, because I'm almost positive that I parked in a non-parking zone. Whatever. The hair was working and wearing a boob shirt. I could have gotten out of it.

Random Section #1- Music. I know, right? I don't like music. But I have like three things I want to hit on. Well, not "hit on" in the "How you doin'?" sense, but rather discuss.

First, mostly directed at those who share my computor, who downloaded Hey There Delilah? Because I seriously need to talk to them about how much I love Plain White T's. Have you heard All That We Needed??? You should. It's amazing.

Also downloaded Umbrella, the unofficial song of summer '07. And if I could find the live sans Jay-Z version I think I'd like it much more. Thankfully it's just the first thirty seconds. I flippin' love Rihanna. She's about as close to something other than white-bread pop that I enjoy.

And Kelly Clarkson's new I'm Angry At My Management See Look At My Angry Dark Cover Pose? album comes out on Tuesday, which I think I'll buy because I'm such a dork I like everything she sings. No, really. Behind Your Hazel Eyes was the ONLY song I listened to the ENTIRE way to Ohio two summers ago.



Speaking of Ohio, apparently we have vacation plans there for this summer or fall. I don't know anything more that that, though, because my father got all weird and refused to tell me anything else about it. This was our conversation.

Me: Well, I need to know about Galena because I have to ask off.
Dad: I know, but we were also going to go to Ohio.
Me: What? Why? Where? Why Ohio?
Dad: Your mother wants to go.
Me: Why? There's nothing in Ohio! What did she say?
Dad: I don't know! I don't owe you and explanation!
Colleen: Um, yeah, when you're asking us to take off of work and leave the state with you, you kind of do!
Dad: I haven't asked you guys!
Colleen: What!?!? I'm a child! You have to take me.
Me: No. Really. Why Ohio? The clinic? Fond memories?
Dad: Go talk to your mother.

See??? He gets really weird.

Also, I kind of completely forgot that we have a relative in Ohio. *shame*



Finished the freakishly long training week on Friday-whee! And got free food! I only had to buy lunch on day last week. And my sensitive gastointestinal system has calmed down after basically being hooked up to a caffeine drip for the past week. I can sleep and not throw up again! Yay!!!

Have to work at the actual cafe on Monday, though, which should be massive amounts of scariness, because it's me and Music Guy, who have like a negative idea of what to do. Except he's cute and I'm good at sucking up. So customer service should be handled well.

Being at work all week last week really cut into my preferred method of passing summer, though: sitting alone and reading. I did finish Nineteen Minutes, Jodi Picoult's latest. It was really good, and really disturbing, but not in poor taste because it was published three weeks before the whole Virginia Tech thing. Still. And I haven't read any of her other stuff, so I didn't see the apparently trademarked twist at the end, and was pleasantly surprised. So very good.

And got a Harry Potter in there, too. They're actually kind of good. And at least I can picture Alan doing all the Snape parts, because God knows the producers don't give him enough to do in the movies.

Although he was featured in Entertainment Weekly's 100 issue! YAY!!! Colleen had plenty of snarky comments about that. *sniff*

Some stolen stories that I must comment on:

Jane Austen Book Club movie stills. I'm really looking forward to this movie, because I ADORED! the book, but they screwed up the ages. Who the hell is Hugh Dancy playing?? Oh, Grigg. Wasn't he way older. *sigh*

KATE AND LEO!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU!!!! PLEASE GET MARRIED AND ONLY ACT WITH EACH OTHER!!!!!!!!!! I'm sorry, was my Titanic-fangirl showing?

God, this is going to suck SO MUCH. But you know I'll be there opening weekend, with all the other losers.

YOU HAD YOUR CHANCE, BITCH!!! HANDS OFF!!! What the hell am I going to do with my useless background in history if she marries him!?!?!?

Aww, crap. I was really hoping they'd find her alive, even if the whole "Mommy's in rug" thing wasn't too hopeful. This sounds horrible, especially now that she's dead, but what was she doing with that guy? She was beautiful, and had a lovely house, had a mother who must have been kind of in her life because she was the one who made the 911 call, and she was sleeping with a married unattractive guy who clearly killed her. *sigh*

Meanwhile, I've decided that having children is much too risky, because chances are the dad will kill you. And I'm so paranoid, I'll think my husband is trying to get me. I swear, he's going to wake up one morning and I'll be doing the "I'm on you" eyes. Yeah. We're gonna be happy. :D

A thoroughly dry and uninteresting update as my creative muse seems to have taken a New Year's vacation...damn her.

Or, I swear on unborn Baby Ada that I'll update three days later.

I'm on vacation. I've had a lot of nothing to do...what do you want from me?

Sooo...2007 (which, btw, is way prettier in writing than 2006, n'est pas?) is going well. Spent most of Monday watching The Matrix, Into the West, and more Matrix, and have decided that TNT= Teh Loveliness, and Keanu Reeves dodging bullets= Teh Coolness. And then went and ate lots and lots of lasagna and such at Mickey's, and finished the night with some Baileys. Lovely times, really.

Yesterday I sat at home, which can be lovely in it's own way, and I had to work at night, which was very much of the suck but slightly necessary as I have a write a seizure-inducing check to UWM tomorrow and have decided that if Mary and I want to got to the U.K. and Paris next January I'll need to have $3,800 saved as well as money to pay for the trip. This appears to be, if one works a slightly-higher-than-minimum-wage job, an insurmountable task. Hmmm. We'll have to see. I will not be deterred from drinking in a pub in Stratf0rd-Upon-Avon (drinking age is 18 and I'm too young to rent a car---cheers!!!) or walking slowly down the aisle of Westminster Abbey while pretending to look at the architecture but actually pretending I'm marrying Prince William and returning the realm to it's Roman roots...*ahem*

So yeah. Money. Boo.

Today I spent a lovely leisurely morning at home and then went to lunch with Mary. Good times were had by all, until I discovered inadvertantly and through absolutely no fault of my own (and yes, the police report will back that up) that REAL detectives do not, sadly, resemble those on ANY of the CSI's, not even the supposedly "unattractive" ones...*sigh* Will there ever be any wonder left in the world?

Hot Pockets are good...until you realize that you're wasting four hundred calories on fake food that will fill you up for about twenty minutes. Then you mostly feel sad.

Working my way through Jane Eyre movies, trying to find the definitive version. I'm pretty sure it's the 1983 one with James Bond, who is way too pretty but still manages to pull of Rochester.

Just to give you a little glimpse into my twisted psyche, in the book Jane herself actually bugs me a lot (Seriously. Stop being such a wuss. And do something with your damn hair.), but I am very protective of Rochester, as I am weirdly and ridiculously attracted to him. Even when I read it for the first time at twelve I was like, "Okay...I want him. Now."

Sidebar: I have a tendency to fall in love with male characters in books, and hate the women. Hating the women might be strange- and probably only is so because I have met, ooh, about five women in my entire life that I can stand to be around, but I can't belive I'm alone in the guy thing, because no way in hell could Pride and Prejudice have had two hundred years of loyal followers and spawned and entire genre of films without generations of women falling in love with Mr. Darcy. It's good, but as Imladris and I have agreed, it's kind of 19th century chick lit. And yet, it's managed to become quite possibly the most beloved book of all time. After the Bible. Maybe. I know a ton of women who could quote you from our beloved Jane here, but couldn't finish "Matthew, Mark, Luke, and...?" This may actually be a bigger commentary on our society than the enduring power of getting the rich hot guy in the end, but that is another sidebar for another day.

It's also one of those parts I tend to cast in my mind, like Heathcliff and Max DeWinter. I have yet to find a suitable guy for any of these, though, and it bothers me almost as much as my literary baby name crisis. As much as it pains me to say this, Alan would be a PERFECT Rochester, but he's *gags* too old. *tear* Heathcliff---well, Heathcliff is tough. They came close in '94 with Ralph Fiennes, but at the end of the day good ol' Ralph is still a refined British dude that we all love but don't really take seriously as a monster. And Max is easier to get, I guess. You just need rich and hot. Except I wouldn't want anyone to screw with the 1940 version too much, because it is My Favorite Movie Of All Time I Think Maybe If You Take Johnny Depp Out of The Question.

Alas, no one wants my casting ideas. Woe.

Le anyhoodles, to wrap up that incredibly long digression, I'm halfway through the William Hurt/Charlotte Gainsbough, which is good but goes way too fast. Ten minutes in and she was leaving Lowood. It's a travesty.

Continuing with today's theme of Kathleen is a Dork, allow me to share with you, in all their glory my books, courtesy of LibraryThing. com, a lovely website that now has my undying devotion because it allowed me to do what countless notebooks and weekends sitting in my bedroom with Erin Shanley couldn't---catalog my books. All of them, in one place. Well, just the adult ones. I thought the two hundred Nancy Drew and countless Thoroughbred/Saddle Club/Pony Club/Other Outlets For My Childhood Obsessions were slightly unneccessry.

Except that Betsy-Tacy got an honorary spot, as well as Christy, which made me want to be a missionary for about twelve minutes just so I could marry a hot preacher guy, until I realized that I a.) don't like not having a bathroom, b.) don't like people, and c.) am Catholic and if I married a hot preacher of my own religion I'd burn in Hell for all eternity. Sadly, C was not, at thirteen, the most pressing deterrent. I think it was the bathroom. That bathroom was a biggie.

It is now permanently linked on the sidebar as well, in case you need are reading this one day and are struck with the sudden and intense need to know what is overcrowding my shelf.

So. I'm going to go watch Without A Trace with the Empress. Somebody abandoned her baby. Oooh.