I start my Latin class in an hour. I'm taking a Latin class at the community college for my own edification. (Nerd, yes. I know.)
I also need your help: Dimitri and I are taking a wedding dance class this weekend, and we need suggestions for the song for our first dance.
Rules:
1) No Enya
2) No boy bands
3) It can't be really long. Four minutes max.
4) It should be a song that isn't a stereotypical "wedding song" (ie, no unchained melody, no Mariah Carey, no Celence Dion crap.
Okay, folks! Suggest away!
Oh, and wish me bonum fortunam on my first day of school!
My fascinating weekend rundown:
Friday night and most of Saturday was reserved for a training I conducted for teachers to bone up on the new SAT. The teachers are smart folks, so that training went quickly. It was nice to catch up with teachers I haven’t seen in a while.
Dimitri went golfing with my dad on Saturday. I think it’s neat that the two of them have connected with one another over golf. The golf course that they golf is nice. While I will never be convinced to go golfing with them, I can see how it’s a nice way to pass an afternoon.
I was too tired to go to church on Sunday. Yes, it’s a lame excuse. I arrived early to my 2:00 tutoring appointment, which gave me enough time to walk to the mini-mart to buy a soda. The total was 99 cents, and I handed the lady a dollar, and she had to TYPE THE TOTAL INTO THE REGISTER AND STARE AT THE SCREEN TO FIGURE OUT WHAT MY CHANGE WAS. Yipes. It’s sad, really. If her math skills suffer that much, I wonder what other basic problem solving skills she is lacking.
I went to PetSmart and bought Ruby some Catnip for the first time. She LOVES it. I don’t know what it is about the grass, but she goes nuts now when I bring out the catnip bag. I put a little bathroom rug into the computer room, and I sprinkled a healthy amount of catnip on it for her to play with. Dim and I now refer to it as her “Magic Carpet” and while she’s rolling around on it in ecstasy, we say that she’s on a magic carpet ride. Weird.
I also went to Old Navy on Saturday. I’ve been meaning to go for months, ever since Kat told me that they finally carry plus sizes. I applaud Old Navy for finally realizing that they’re missing out on a huge chunk of the female population (no pun intended), but they haven’t worked out the kinks yet. First off, the cheap prices that they advertise on television are only for the skinny stuff. A t-shirt that is a size 2 will be $5, while a similar style in a size 18 will be closer to $30.
Before Terrence starts up about supply and demand economics, or the sliding scale when it come to plus-sized clothing and cost of goods, let me say this to Old Navy: Suck it. If you want to charge me $2 extra for the extra quarter-yard of fabric, fine. But a $25 difference is asinine.
So today, I am tutoring at 3 and then teaching at 6. I have to clean my car before then. Off I go.
I just finished getting a pedicure from a shop by my house. The gal who was working on my feet (brave soul) was chatting in Vietnamese the whole time to the gal next to her, who was working on another lady's feet.
Question: was that rude of her?
She never talked to me. While I don't expect to develop a lasting relationship, "hello" and "how about that weather?" might have been nice. I thought that the point of etiquette was not so much learning a lot of stupid rules of behavior, but to try your best to make the other person feel comfortable. It was mighty awkward listening to the two ladies gossip, giggle, and jabber while I sat there and tried to look busy doing nothing. For all I know, they were talking about me and the sorry shape my feet were in. I know that they both could speak english because they each answered the phone and my gal asked for me to pay her in good english. (Really, that was the only conversation she had with me)
So, was it rude, or am I a fuddy-duddy (Vietnamese for sourpuss)
Dear Perma-Built Homes:
Please design your homes to be more vacuum-friendly. Please redesign the size of toilet rooms so that a vacuum can pass to the right and to the left of the toilet, so homeowners don't need to get on their hands and knees and vacuum with the mysterious "upholstery attachment" while coming face-to-face with the commode.
That is all.
I dreamed about the wedding two nights ago. Everything was going wrong. Correction: two things were going wrong, which, in the universe of wedding planning, means that the universe will stop rotating on its axis, toads will rain from the sky, and general mayhem will certainly ensue. ("Human sacrifice, cats and dogs...living together, mass hysteria") My dress wouldn't fit, and the church's facilities director had fired the chef. He told me five minutes before the ceremony was about to start that he would run and get Quiznos instead. I was crushed. Dimitri was elated (he loves Quiznos). Breathe, Jennifer. Breathe. It was just a dream.
Yesterday, Dimitri and I went to see a model house that he and his mother had scoped out a week ago or so. I really liked the house. Since we were in the neighborhood of the golf course, and Dimitri just happened to have his clubs in the trunk (I smell a set-up here) Dim dropped me off at the clubhouse for an hour while he "Hit some balls." (Under other circumstances, I would assume that Dim is a gangster rather than a yuppie.)
I couldn't sleep this morning -- I've been up since 4:30. I had/have house on the brain. I really like the house that we looked at. It's sad that we won't move into it. (Too expensive/we'd have to sell our house toot-sweet to swing the deal) I think it would have been perfect. It had a great kitchen, which our house does not. It had enough room for Dim to have a decent office. It had enough room for kids and cats and storage and entertaining friends.*sigh*
Sorry with the no posting. I have no excuse.
Since the last post, I have spent time in Miami (during the hurricane) eek! Miami is a lovely place, but it's definitely meant for people who are patient drivers (which I am not. I require drivers to go faster than 20 mph, I require street signs that label streets at intersections. I know, diva, right?). I had fun visiting friends, and tried lots of new food while I was there.
I've also been to LA to visit friends (Jenny's party) and crash at my aunt-to-be's place. On Sunday, we went to St. Sophia's and I was amazed at how over-the-top beautiful it was. Our church here is relatiely simple (as far as orthodox churches go), so when I saw the overly ornate St. Sophia's, my mouth hung down to the pew for most of the service.
The whole place is decked out in gold. Father John calls it "God, hollywood style" but I thought it looked like a Catholic drag queen. It was really pretty, but over the top.
So on the way back to Las Vegas, Dim and I stopped in Victorville for breakfast. I wasn't hungry, but Dim had El Pollo Loco on the brain. We ended up with four extra pieces of chicken which we gave to a homeless guy on the freeway ramp. He had a happy yellow mutt with him that accidentally scratched me when he jumped up to say hi (the dog, not the bum, although that would have been amusing) The scratch is healing well after swelling a bit, which was disconcerting. I used an antiseptic wipe from Kat's Kenyan first-aid bag and all is well. No tetanus or rabies (yet) but here's hoping!
So I'm back, and my sabbatical is over. I'm teaching again, which is fun. I really enjoyed the time off. I needed it.
Do you prefer (pick the least annoying)...
1. Low carb/No carb or Low-fat foods?
I definitely prefer Low Carb stuff to Low Fat stuff. Fat allows our taste buds to connect with flavor. The less fat, the less flavor. Low-Carb stuff is usually pretty fatty, so it tastes pretty good. Mmmm, fat...
I can't, however, tolerate Malitol. Malitol is the stuff put in Low-Carb foods when they need to taste chocolatey. Malitol tastes wonderful, but comes with a warning: excessive consumption may have a laxative effect. Liars. Replace "excessive" with "any" and "may" with "you bet your sweet bippy will have an earth-shatteringly, socially unacceptable, and embarassingly unpredictable" and you'll be nearer to the truth. I mean, that's what I heard from a friend.
2. Reality TV or Crime-solving Spin-offs (CSI:Miami, CSI: New York, L&O:SVU, L&O:Criminal Intent)?
Law and Order all the way. I find that I get embarassed while watching reality television. I'm embarassed for the contestants, knowing that their 15 minutes of fame came from eating the anal glands of scorpions or vapidly competing for the affections of some yahoo they've never met before. I'm embarassed that I am providing the show the ratings that get shows re-signed for additional seasons or make TV producers think that similar shows should be added to the lineups.
No, give me murder and rape on Law and Order, please. At least those are a little more realistic.
3. Knee-high socks with tennis shoes or socks with sandals?
Socks and Sneakers. So long as they're the 70's sweatsocks with the two broad color bands at the top.
4. Spam Emails or SPAM the "meat" product?
SPAMmeat isn't actually all that bad. So long as you don't think about what it is you're eating, it tastes pretty good, and fries up better than bacon. Mmmmmm, bacon...
5. Long lines to a drive-thru or long lines to a public restroom?
Long lines in a restroom don't bother me (a) because I'm female and it happens all the time and (b) because I can avoid using public restrooms for hours. My bladder is the size of a curant but it's made of titanium.
I tend to get irritated while in line at the drive-through. I don't have any right to be irritated, but I have fallen for the marketing ploy in commercials that subliminally promises that I will only be in the drive-thru for 30 seconds tops, and any break in that pattern is the fault of the yutz in front of me who holds up the parade for four (four!) minutes for the nine dozen hamburgers he's ordered. (Except, of course, when I'm the yutz waiting four minutes at the window with three cars stuck behind me, when it is clearly the fault of the incompetent boob on the other side of the window.
How 'bout y'all?
Still no headway in the deodorant debacle. I'm still searching for some pit paste that will hold off the cabbage stew smell. If it weren't so creepy, I'd consider this.
The short version:
1) The Village is okay
2) The Bourne Supremacy is not
3) Headaches are not for sissies.
4) Midol is meant for women, despite the information on the package
The not so short, but not too long (it's juuuuuust right) version:
I saw Shyamalan's new movie The Village. I really enjoy Shyamalamadingdong's movies (so long as I pretend that Unbreakable never happened), so I was expecting to really enjoy The Village. Dim said it was dumb, but that's because he was expecting a horror movie rather than a suspense movie. I liked it better than Signs but not as much as The Sixth Sense.
The Bourne Supremacy is dumb. Matt Damon doesn't even get naked. What a rip off. After the third 30-minute car chase, I started wishing The Man would catch Damon so the movie could end faster.
Went to eat bbq at Dad's on Saturday. It was nice to be in the pool. I don't remember the last time I was in a pool. My best guess is January.
I had a debilitatingly awful headache all day Sunday. Allllllll dayyyyy. I wanted to shoot myself. Dim tried to help with head massages and pulling my hair (which actually helped...for about 30 seconds) but there was only so much he could do. I ended up taking 1000 mg of ibuprofen, four Advil (an anvil would have been more helpful) , sinus headache medicine, and a Vicodin I had stashed away from an old doctor's appointment. (not at the same time, obviously. It's hard to type from the inside of a black canvas bag.) None of it helped.
I was busy wallowing in my own misery, and sent Dim to the grocery store, since even the light from the television sent shooting pains through my cranium. The fluorescent lights of the store would have probably killed me. I would have been a collapsed sobbing heap in front of the Deli. No fun. Eleven cell phone calls later, Dim managed to locate the thirteen items on the grocery list. (he already knew where the milk and the soda were).*
One of the items I requested was Midol. I was too miserable to take it last night, but this morning I found two funny things on the packaging:
"Not to be taken by pregnant women" (well duh.)
"Talk to your doctor before using this drug if you have a history of problems with your prostate" (er, okay. I'll definitely keep an eye on that)
Bill Cosby has an old routine about taking Midol (and how wonderful it was, but it made him moody every couple of weeks).
No headache today (thank goodness).
*This statement is what we call artistic license. Dimitri would like it known that he is not a helpless child. He is a man who doesn’t have the guts to ask the grocery lady where Midol is located in the store.
I have been trying to find a decent deodorant for months. A few months ago, I had to give up my beloved Secret deodorant because I developed a nasty rash. After much trial and error (and itching and scratching), I settled with Dove, which stops the rash, but really doesn’t do a thing for odor prevention. I end the day smelling like a French subway in summer.
Kat and Susan had recommended finding a deodorant, rather than the anti-perspirant/deodorant I have always used. Yesterday at the grocery store, I read every single women’s deodorant stick: all of them were anti-perspirant. I only found one non-anti-perspirant (pro-perspirant?) deodorant made by Arm and Hammer, but it was some manly smell like Deer Urine or Moose in Heat – with Action Stripe! (or something like that.)
Holy B.O., Batman! Ladies, do you know of any non-anti-perspirant deodorants out there?
Nothing interesting has happened to me.
Now, some rational people (I include myself in this group most of the time) would find it rather snobby to waste blog space to tell people, essentially, “Sod off. Nothing to see here.” Unfortunately, I have some blog readers who insist on my updating my weblog at least semi-monthly (how irrational!).
So here goes:
Dimitri was on a fishing trip with his uncle and his uncle’s church. Every year tens of dozens of Greek men happily drive up to Strawberry Bay outside of Sal Lake City to catch illegal fish and hide them from the fishing wardens. Copious amounts of beer are drunk, innumerable liters of methane are expelled, and fun is had by all. (Apparently, anyway. My sensibilities tell me it’s a weekend of farty-fishy-beer-burp-smelling-men, something I could easily do without, thank you.) Dimitri called me on Friday to let me know that the only thing he had caught was a seagull. I tried to make an Albatross joke, but it went over like a lead anchor.
Speaking of anchor, as Dimitri tried to send the anchor over the side of the boat, his glasses (in their usual spot-hooked in the crook of his collar) caught on the anchor and went overboard. We spent Monday in the Optometrists office getting a new prescription for fish-proof glasses. Dimitri flirted with the eye doctor and I got a kid’s sticker that said “I have TOAD-ally great eyes” (two guesses what animal was on the sticker.)
Today is dedicated to weeding, cleaning, and going to the gym. We might go to a movie tonight. I have to write a response to a loved one’s overly-emotional email, something I’m not looking forward to (and have managed to put off for about a week now).
In the end, drivel. Does anyone have a good site to go to in order to find decent blog ideas?