Labor Day Weekend '06-- the countdown begins

Weirdly, I've been so worried about the approach of Sucknesto (now downgraded to a tropical depression-- in your face, you crap-ass storm!) delaying my vacation that I haven't really had time to fully grasp the fact that I am, in fact, going to be in Wilmington in less than 72 hours.

In fact, it really just hit me a few minutes ago, when I read Ashley's appeal to Ernesto to disapparate, or whatever depressions do. And now I am doing a happy dance of joy-- I am coming to Wilmington! To see many Blogger friends (actually-- I think pretty much everyone I'm going to see is a Blogger friend. Does this mean we are self-involved? I say NAY!), and walk on the river walk, and eat doughnuts and go to Sonic and drink Cheerwine!

It has also just hit me, really, that I have a shitload of things to do. So far, I have:

1. Made the perfect vacation CD
2. Sort of cleaned a little
3. Put away a whole bunch of other CDs
4. Ripped up the 1,000 credit card applications I have accrued over the last two weeks.

I have not:

1. Packed
2. Gotten maps to Charlotte or Wilmington
3. Gotten cash for tolls
4. Gotten gas
5. Actually cleaned
6. Acquired snacks for trip
7. Figured out how to work my effing video camera

Et cetera.

Now, granted, most of those things have to wait until tomorrow night anyway. But now that I have finally caught on, not unlike a dog being lured into the car with Snausages, that I am going on a trip, I want all these things to be done now, so I can begin the road trip portion of my journey, and listen to my sweet new CD, which features both "Apache" by The Sugarhill Gang and "The Lees of Old Virginia" from the soundtrack to 1776. Ben, I'm sure, will be thrilled.

For those of you still pining...

Arrested Development season 3 DVD is out today, and on sale at Target for $20.

Rest in peace, Bluths. Rest in piece.

And not to change the subject, but-- also out on DVD today and on sale at Target? Flavor of Love season 1. Why won't you buy it? It has a special feature called "The Blackucation of Pumkin." Buy it! How can you not?

Worry Wart

It's something that my mother has been saying forever, but really, I'm starting to think that I really do worry too much, and it's starting to get me down. For instance, this weekend, I worried about:

1. My impending haircut

2. The completion of a project that absolutely had to get done and in the mail by a certain time

3. An invitation I had to turn down

4. This vaguely threatening letter I got from my dental insurance people

And now, I have the haircut (and it just keeps getting sassier with each passing day!), finished the project, turned down the invitation only to be met with great understanding, and straightened out the insurance situation. One would think that I would have learned my lesson about worrying, seeing as how every single thing I worried about this weekend turned out just fine, and in some cases, actually great. But instead, I have simply shifted my worry to include:

1. The imminent distruction of my upcoming vacation to Wilmington by that hellhound, Ernesto. Curse you, Ernesto, and all your windy fury!

2. My inability to answer all the requests placed on my blog for the "all request and dedication post" (some famous fictional dinner partners I would enjoy-- the Invisible Man from Ellison's Invisible Man, Mrs. DeWinter from Rebecca-- or, better yet, Rebecca herself. Some weird foods I have eaten since grad school-- salmon, monte cristo sandwiches, mozzarella cheeseburgers)

3. The Department of Education's malfunctioning website, which will not allow me to post my student loan payment online, meaning I have to mail it in, meaning that the check will inevitably be lost, resulting in my first ever late student loan payment, and probably my deportation from the country.

Et cetera.

Honestly, there probably isn't a day that goes by that I'm not worried about something. And it's often something stupid. I once agonized for an entire day under the belief that a girl I knew hated me (which makes no sense, since I didn't do anything to make her hate me, and didn't actually even like her very much, so what did I care if she hated me?), only to be curiously vindicated when she smiled at me in passing, thus assuring me that she didn't hate me at all.

Is this normal? Do the rest of you worry this much? Has my obsessive worrying worried any of you in the past? Please confirm my general normalcy, so I don't have to worry about that, too.

And by the way-- if you want to see something worrisome, trying doing an image search on Google for the word "wart." You'll see why I went with this anxious, slightly menacing looking woman, who, if you look at her in the right light, looks a little like a red-headed Brigitte Nielsen.

Miso Sassy

Okay, this is probably not what it's going to end up looking like-- according to the stylist, my hair was so thick and heavy from having been long for such a long time, the remaining portion of my hair will have to "remember" that it's not being dragged down by the weight, and will eventually curl up even more. But first reports clearly show me as being a sexy, sexy fox.

By the way, this is The Haircut That Almost Wasn't-- I got a call this morning letting me know that my stylist had taken ill, and all other stylists were busy until next Wednesday! Knowing that it would improve the situation, I immediately began sobbing, ceasing only once a second appointment could be established at a different salon-- two hours earlier than the original one was supposed to have been. So in your face, Sick Monica! My monies went to Crystal at Francesco's (although my heart will always belong to Ladies and Gentlemen Salon and Day Spa)!

Return of the fro?

Unless anyone has any reason why I shouldn't do this, I think I'm going to go crazy-go-nuts and get my hair cut like this again. So please don't tell me not to unless you really, really, really hate it. Please.

In fact, don't even tell me. Don't say anything. Just think of this as a warning. I am totally getting my hair cut like this. Maybe even shorter. But not crazy short. But no-ponytail short! Which I haven't been in two years.

Yipe! As someone who wore their hair so short that she couldn't even put barrettes in it until she was 21, I have no idea why this is freaking me out so much. But I am totally freaked. But still totally doing it.

Lady Mix-a-Lot

Before I begin with today's request, let me just say: to Frisby, the images come from Google Images-- I highly recommend it, as it has never, NEVER failed me. And to Mendacious-- I am totally NOT avoiding your request. It just requires a bit of time to ferment...

And now, without further ado...

Two words for you-- mix tape.
--Croot

Songs That Sound Like They Came Out While I Was in Grad School, But Didn't:

1. You're Beautiful-- James Blunt
2. Bad Day-- Daniel Powter
3. Orange Sky-- Alexi Murdoch
4. I Don't Wanna Be-- Gavin DeGraw
5. Sugar, We're Going Down-- Fall Out Boy
6. Over My Head (Cable Car)-- The Fray
7. Black Horse and the Cherry Tree-- KT Tunstall
8. Bitches Ain't Shit-- Ben Folds
9. Beverly Hills-- Weezer
10. Somebody Told Me-- The Killers
11. Float On-- Modest Mouse
12. My Doorbell-- The White Stripes
13. Wake Me Up When September Ends-- Green Day
14. Kelly Clarkson-- Since U Been Gone
15. Wheels-- Cake
16. Take Your Mama-- The Scissor Sisters

Selected Liner Notes, in which I Cover My Ass, and also 'Splain Some Things:

Track 1-- I can definitely see myself, sitting on the porch swing in front of my house, vaguely crying and smoking cigarettes while watching the rain, imagining how this song really obviously was about me.

Track 3-- This song technically came out while we were in school, but no one heard of it before it was in Garden State, and also in the commercial for the really ugly SUV that looks like a milk truck.

Track 4-- Isn't this the theme to One Tree Hill? I don't think that's why I always think this song came out while I was in grad school. It just has a Wilmingtonian vibe to it.

Track 6-- We would all think this song was about us, all the time.

Track 8-- This song, not unlike "Gin and Juice" by The Gourds, would be very popular among everyone at first, but then, slowly, everyone but me would grow to hate it, while my love for it only flourished, to the point of horrifying everyone.

Tracks 10 and 11-- These songs also came out while we were in school, but so close to the end of school that they did not gain popularity until after I was already back in Ohio.

Track 16-- I would totally sing this on the way to get Hot and Fresh donuts at the Krispy Kreme.

Party time! Excellent!

If you could throw any kind of party, what theme would it be? Who would you invite, and what would you wear. Would party-goers play Pin Lucifer's Tail on Mark Harmon?

--Pen

I have never been successful at throwing parties, except for a very brief period in college in which I threw awesome ones, but I think it was because I was the only person I knew who didn't live on campus at the time. Dan and I did throw several parties at our apartment on South Fifth, including one of the Welcome Back parties, but I think it is widely believed that, of the three years my class was in school, it was probably the lamest of the welcome backs (although there was a horse cop involved, later in the evening).

So if I could throw a dream party-- what kind of party would it be?

Dang it, Pen! This is a hard one!

You know what I think I would like? I would like to throw a Post Secret party. In which each guest would be required to write down one of their secrets and mail it to me, with no return address, and I could post it on the walls of my house before they came over. Then, while we were drinking and walking around and talking, we could read each other's secrets.

Taking things a step further, we could all bring out secretly favorite food-- like how everyone says their favorite food is something fancy, like Pad Thai, but really it's macaroni and Cheez Whiz.

And maybe? You could only gain admittance to the party if you had an awesome secret. But then I would have to know who had what secret, and that wouldn't be fair. So instead, you could only come to the party if you complimented my outfit, which would secretly be from Wal-Mart (in keeping with the secretiveness of the party).

Ooh, I so want to throw this party now. Mainly because I have a deep-seeded need to know secrets! And because I like the fact that, now that we're grown up, it is customary to bring a gift for the hostess. Ahem. Just saying.

All Request and Dedication Hour

I don't know about the rest of you Bloggers, but I tend to go through cycles-- from euphoric Blog-related glee to fallow, idealess stretches of evil (often brought on by prolonged quality-checking of the company's collections system).

So, rather than go silent, I thought I'd leave the content up to you (read: make you do most of the work) for a little while-- at least until I can get back on my feet, or until something interesting happens to me, other than this mondo, all-consuming Chin hemorrhoid situation (also brought on by the collections system).

Here's the deal: you drop me a comment with any topic you want, and I promise I will write at least three sentences on it. Some restrictions apply (namely, please don't try to trick me into giving my opinions on world events, as the closest I have ever come to being a political expert was that glorious day in 1992 when I got an A on my election notebook in social studies). Please also don't make me say bad things about people. Unless they're like celebrity people, or people I don't know. Then, screw them.

You want me to write something about your cousin? Bring it. Existentialist art? It's on. These mini-blogs will not be factual, nor particularly educational, but they will be more entertaining than, say, a step-by-step analysis of Where Collections Went Wrong.

Help a sister out here. You provide the topic, I'll provide the words. It's magic time.

I am herbivorous

Just as an update, I totally ate the salad. I added some sunflower seeds and a few slivers of grilled chicken, and it was fabulous. I even passed up a trip to the much beloved Pizza Hut all-you-can-eat* buffet to enjoy it. I am so healthy, it's scary.

The best part is, having eaten such a healthy lunch, I am now free to eat a ginormous celebratory dinner this evening. With dessert. Because I earned it through matchstick carrots.

*For the longest time, I did not know that AYCE on a restaurant's sign meant "all you can eat." I thought it was some sort of weird code, or the name of a group, like the BPOE (I don't know what that stands for, either, but it seems sinister). But then I thought, why would the AYCE (which I perceived, for some reason, to be like a religious organization) eat wings at Hooters? That's when it all came together for me...

Better late than never!

I just found out from my friend Kristy at the Columbus Dispatch that my column, which many of you were aware was slated to run last Thursday, but had to be rescheduled, ran in yesterday's newspaper (she herself didn't find out until after work was over)!

Much props to my best friend Megan for finding the link for me-- you can check out the column here. I would like to state for the record, though, that in the paper, this column ran right next to a big article on Snakes on a Plane, which makes me super, super proud. (Really!)

The big mass e-mail will be sweeping the nation in a few hours, so I apologize to those of you who are on that list-- but just think, when it arrives, you can always say, "I found out about it hours ago, on her blog." Meaning that my blog will finally have been good for something.

Euclid Loves Ricky

On a routine trip to the Euclid library (which, in a bit of trivia that might interest those of you who are local, is apparently considered the third best library in the nation-- I highly recommend it), I decided to peruse the CD collection, expecting to find the usual libraryesque selections-- Pavarotti, Joni Mitchell, and a random Wilco album from 1993.

So I was shocked to find an entire rack dedicated to Ricky Martin, including no less than seven copies (seven!!) of his Spanish-language album Vuelve, an album of which I believed I owned the only copy (please, do not even question why I would own a copy of this. I bought it to impress a guy, and it didn't occur to me until much later that a guy that would be impressed that I owned Vuelve might not be interested in me).

My question is, why would the Euclid library believe that seven different patrons would come in within two weeks of each other, just really wanting to hear "Por Arriba Por Abajo"? And that only counts the ones that were actually on the shelves-- what if there are, like, seven more copies of Vuelve out there, already checked out to happy Ricky Martin fans?

And there were tons of other Ricky Martin selections, as well-- Livin' La Vida Loca, that one that has "She Bangs" on it, et. al. Why? I would have investigated further, but someone was hovering around near me, clearly wanting to get a look at the Ricky Martin rack. And I didn't want to hog the Vuelve. Whatever that means.

Baby's first salad

Behold! I made a salad!

Having never actually made a salad before in my entire life (more on this in a moment), I obviously also made a really big mess. And no, there is no Febreze in my salad. But the point is, I did it-- I personally assembled a salad with more than five ingredients, for the sole purpose of my consumption at lunch tomorrow. Since I figured that no one would believe me (particularly Ashley, with whom I was on the phone during the assemblage of said salad), I thought I would photograph my triumph, even though it reveals the embarrassing fact that, as I did not know how to properly toss the salad, I just transferred it to a bigger container and shook it up and transferred it back.

Those of you who are relatively new to this blog will not realize the significance of this event, and walk away shaking your head, oddly vexed by my salad retardation.

But those of you who have known me for awhile, I hope you appreciate the sheer magnitude of this situation. I made a salad. And I'm going to eat it. Unless I panic, throw it out, and go to Long John Silver's. But I'm hoping Healthy Kim prevails. Especially since this salad took me like 20 minutes to make.

Dear Euclid Neighbors,

Why do you keep throwing rib bones into the grass around the school across the street from my house? Why? Why are you even eating so many ribs? I swear on all that is holy, I probably haven't eaten ribs in seven or eight years. Not one rib. And yet, somehow, you're all eating them like they're going out of style, and the unceremoniously throwing them into the lawn in front of the school (which means you also often eat outdoors, which is again weird, as I never actually see any of you eating outdoors, and I'm out there quite a bit. Are you throwing them from your car? Are you eating ribs in a moving car??).

Don't you understand that every time my dog finds one of these discarded rib bones, she has to pick it up and eat it-- I don't mean chew on it, I mean she eats the entire thing, and it makes sickening crunching noises, and I just can't stop thinking, my dog is eating something one of the neighbors already chewed on.

So please, please, please, please please stop doing it. There are enough obstacles on my morning walk-- renegade poo bombs, mysteriously dead-of-apparently-natural-causes squirrel carcasses in the middle of the sidewalk, kids who set fire to things in the school parking lot-- that I don't need your rib bones adding just that much more evil to my day.

Love,
Kim

Wish I was there

I'm back from vacation! I always feel awkward that first day back from vacation, when everyone asks about it, because I feel pressured to give a detailed blow-by-blow account of the trip, when people really only want to hear that it was "really fun."

So here, in a nutshell, were the highlights (and not-so-highlights) of my vacation.

1. It was very pirate-themed, as you can see from this picture-- which, by the way, if you show anyone this picture of me in a bathing suit and/or comment about the sad state of my thighs, I'll kill you. Most of our free time was spent scouring the boardwalk for pirate-themed souvenirs and accoutrements for our pirate outfits.

2. The sunset cruise, long a staple of the Shable family Rehoboth Beach vacation, was cancelled due to the escalating price of gasoline, thus only deepening my insane obsession the price of gas.

3. I got a killer tan, although it is not evident in this picture. But trust me, it's TOTALLY killer.

4. I got buried in the sand, which is much scarier and more claustrophobic than carefree parental nostalgia make it appear to be. However, once you get used to it, it's really quite cozy, to the point where I only eventually got up because I had to pee, and there was sand in my butt.

5. Ben and I got whistled at by the lifeguard, and-- here is a little known fact about me, I have an insane fear of lifeguards. I always have, ever since my dad started taking me to Geauga Lake when I was little and they would point ominously into the water in my general direction and blow their whistles in a threatening manner. Even though my best friend Megan and I were once actually rescued from certain death-by-smashing-into-a-jetty by a very nice lifeguard, I still totally fear them. So when this lifeguard whistled at us, I panicked, which caused a series of waves to break right on top of me, once again filling my swimsuit with sand and retiring me to the beach for a short while.

All in all, my vacation was "really fun," and I really wish it were still going on right now. But still, a vacation isn't a vacation if you never have to go back to work. But seriously? That's bullshit, I just want to be on vacation forever.

Staredown

Having just encountered a strange guy in the stairwell on my sixth trip to the bathroom today (I have purposefully been chugging large amounts of water in an effort to take many bathroom trips and thus make the day go faster), I realized that I very rarely look people in the eye if I don’t really know them. I don’t know if this is like alpha dog—or, no, that’s not right, what’s less than alpha dog, beta dog?—behavior, because I know that, as the alpha dog, you’re always supposed to stare down your adversary in an effort to show dominance—but I totally can’t do it.

This once got me into trouble at the day spa, when one day I was feeling shifty and would not look my boss in the eye, and she called me on it. “Is something wrong? What aren’t you telling me? Why won’t you look me in the eye? Did you do something wrong?” Which I hadn’t, but as she began badgering me, I really couldn’t look her in the eye, which caused her to spend the rest of the day monitoring me with (from what I could see out of the corner of my eye) an extremely suspicious look on her face.

My favorite part of that story is that she asked me, “Did you do something wrong?” Which is totally what I ask the dog when I think she’s peed on the carpet.

Summer lovin'

As I ready myself for vacation, I find myself finally getting into the swing of summer, which is sad, because according to all the stores around here, it is now Back To School Time, and I need to purchase my Trapper Keeper posthaste, lest it suddenly morph into Halloween.

So in an effort to maintain that summer groove, I thought I'd give shout-outs to the things that have received much props from your homey this summer:

1. Cherikee Red Pop. The world's most racist soda! And yet, so very tasty... I was first introduced to Cherikee Red at Camp Hidden Hollow, where the Aurora High School Marching Band held its band camp. Cherikee Red was the only thing that made skit day bearable...

2. David Hasselhoff's "Jump In My Car" video (see below). Okay, at first I thought it was funny, but now I get it stuck in my head sometimes, like at work, which is really embarrassing. But Evil Ejector KITT is so hard to resist! I wonder how many other ladies he has seduced in this manner...

3. The return of Flavor of Love on VH1! This evening, at 10/9 Central. Watch it! Watch it or perish! Because no one watched it last time, and that left me with no one to discuss The Great Pumpkin Spitting Incident, or to quote Goldie-isms to. So please watch, so that we can have long, spirited discussions about it. Also, according to the promo I watched (multiple) times yesterday, someone is going to crap on Flav's floor during this episode. How can you resist?

4. Snap peas. They're delicious AND nutricious! Really, I like them. It's a whole new me!

So check these things out and indulge yourself for once! In the meantime, I'm going to be putting the finishing touches on my Tiny Toiletry collection (I acquired the Tiny Gel and Tiny Shave Cream I needed on Friday!), praying I can learn how to upload video content from the video camera my parents lent me (if ANYONE has any idea how I can upload from a PV-GS9, PLEASE let me know, as I am now desperate to memorialize every second of my two upcoming vacations, as well as several weddings and hilarious cuteness between the dog and cat), and doing many crunches and leg lifts in a feeble attempt to not look like I am wearing a fanny pack under my swimsuit. We're leaving Tuesday, so I may be going dark for the week, although I'm secretly hoping that the hotel has wireless access... because yes, I am depraved and sad like that.

I'm unsure

I apologize for the lack of blogging over the last few days-- Ben and I are leaving for Rehoboth Beach, DE, in a few days for our first official vacation, and I am busy alternately fantasizing about how romantic it is going to be and obsessing over the fact that I have not yet assembled a complete set of travel-sized toiletries to carry me through the four-day trek.

In the meantime, I thought I'd post this video I shot while attempting to figure out if Ben's camera phone really could shoot video, as promised (turns out it can, and here it is, for your entertainment!).