I hate reblogging the same thing everyone else does, but this is just too great. And I think everyone’s reblogging it because it’s soooo true, at least for the majority of my friends.
“having homework, writing papers, reading…..I miss college so this might be nostalgic! Actually, my roommate and I were just whining about how much we miss college and could go shopping and do whatever we wanted on a whim. I was so eager to graduate I busted my butt taking 18-19 credits a semester just to get into the real world. And girls let me tell you, the real world is not that fun. Or at least it doesn’t seem like it will be that much fun (when I have mega loans to pay back!!). ENJOY COLLEGE WHILE YOU CAN!!!!! Thats the moral of the story!”
I kind of agree. But not entirely. Maybe because I haven’t been out long enough, or maybe because I have been out long enough. Kind of depends on what’s going on that day. I do miss having all my friends living either in the same apt or right down the hall and going to eat with them everyday. I don’t mind cooking (gets expensive sometimes though) but the whole not having to do dishes bit would be nice.
Every time I see a Super Bowl article posted online I think, “Oh yeahhhh, I guess that is this weekend, isn’t it?” It just doesn’t seem like it should be that time of year already!
The internet coverage I’ve seen is divided into two segments: things on sports web sites that have Useful Information, and things directed at women which automatically assume women neither know nor care a bit about football, or the Super Bowl, and would much rather play the consummate hostess.
In all honesty, I don’t really care at all about the game. If it was a Brett Favre-Tom Brady matchup, then maybe. But Eli Manning bores me, and Tom’s (over)exposure is reaching Peyton-like heights so I’m dangerously close to being very over him.
That’s besides the point. The point is that I came across this bit regarding a “fun” party idea about making Pats fans and Giants fans sit on opposite sides of the room:
“Here’s an addendum to that idea– draw a line with masking tape down the middle of your room. On one side will be the people who are giggling at the same E-Trade commercials from the 1st quarter and loudly discussing the merits of Tom Brady’s butt. On the other side will be people having fun.”
I want to know why there has to be a line. Why is it ESPN vs. some annoying women’s magazine whose Super Bowl coverage is so awful it makes me ashamed to be a reader? Why does it have to be sports fans vs. marginal observers who wish there was something else on? I enjoy watching hot guys run around in tight pants, but that’s not the sole reason I watch football and it’s certainly not why I’ll be watching the Super Bowl. I’d also like to add that discussing the merits of Tom Brady’s butt and having fun are not mutually exclusive. In fact, I plan on doing both this weekend.
Just read this interesting article in Time Magazine about how romance is linked to smell. We respond to olfactory cues and in fact, smell helps us narrow our choices of potential partners.
MHC (the major histocompatibility complex), a set of genes that controls the immune system and influences tissue rejection is especially critical. You jive best with a partner whose MHC is sufficiently different from your own. Studies show that couples with similar MHC’s have trouble conceiving or an increased risk of miscarriage.
A study had females smell various t-shirts worn by different anonymous men, then pick the one that appealed to them most. Most women chose ones worn by men with a MHC dissimilar to her own (=good). Those who chose the t-shirts worn by men with similar MHC (=bad) were on birth control. The daily dose of hormones confounds the MHC-detection system.
A chemist associated with the studies “wonders if the Pill may contribute to divorce… Women pick a husband when they’re on birth control, then quit to have a baby and realize they’ve made a mistake.” Here’s an in depth description of the study & a scientific explanation here.
Watch out Match.com, ScientificMatch.com is taking over. My friend Pavla read about this online dating service where you send in saliva samples and the program matches you with a mate with dissimilar immune system genes. Only $1,995.95 for a year for anyone except convicted criminals or women on birth control.
Just heard on The Today Show that a satellite has fallen out of orbit and is heading toward Earth, expected to hit sometime in late February or early March. But don’t freak out and get all Chicken Little “the sky is falling” yet…these things apparently are not out of the ordinary, and usually they’ll burn up in the atmosphere, or fall into the ocean or “a remote corner.” Never in 50 years has anyone been hit. But the bigger concern (you know, bigger than the possibility of a city bus-sized satellite that was supposed to be a better model falling on towns and people) is that fragments “might fall into the wrong hands.” The wrong hands, according to the guy on tv, being “the Russians, or the Chinese.” SERIOUSLY?? The Russians and the Chinese are our main concerns? I thought it was the leagues of terrorists in the Middle East and/or those governments that support them and try to get them our weapons and intelligence. You know, the ones even marginally involved in that war we’re fighting? Obviously, though no one has been hit by satellites in 50 years, the people who discuss them haven’t progressed any in that time either.
Looking back over some of my favorite stories and research papers I’ve written, I feel like I may have peaked at 21. Depressing. Do you know what it’s like to feel like you’ve lost your spark? I feel like one of those women who can’t get past the memory of being the quintessential prom queen, the perky, perfect cheerleader, even though she’s 30 years and 30 pounds past her glory days. The kind who wear too much makeup and clothing inappropriate for their age and status. The kind who can’t accept that life has gone on and they’re no longer the toasts of their small southern towns.
That’s how I feel. Like I can almost just about remember what it was like when I had spirit and sass and something I was good at and loved to do. What it was like before bills and broken hearts and 9 to 5 and life got in the way. I had such dreams, such goals, such potential. Now, I’m not sure what I’ve got.
Comment about my earlier blog post on fannation.com. Comments like this gem totally make up for all the other nasty, unnecessary posts that seem to come with blogs.
We were gonna make the scene
We were gonna marry movie stars and storm the silver screen
We were gonna write important novels
We were gonna start a band
It hasn’t gone as planned” —But nothing ever does, does it? *sigh* More fabulous words of wisdom from the lovely MP.
- Sookie: Okay, here we go. Low fat, whole wheat blueberry pancakes
- Michel: Are there 12?
- Sookie: 12 what?
- Michel: Blueberries. I can only have 12 blueberries for breakfast.
- Sookie: Or what?
- Michel: What do you mean 'or what?'
- Sookie: What happens if you eat 13 blueberries?
- Michel: This is a silly conversation.
- Sookie: Would you die?
- Michel: Just hand me the plate.
- Sookie: Only if you promise not to count.
- Michel: I won't count.
- Sookie: Swear. Raise your right hand and say, 'May Destiny's Child break up if I count these blueberries.'
- Michel: [raises his hand] ... Pick another group.
- Sookie: Nope.
- Michel: [slams hand down] I hate you! Hate you!
- Me: I would like to have sex.
- Claire: Me, too!
- Me: Prostitution? I also need money.
- Claire: Fuck. Me, too. What are we going to do?
- Me: Work street corners.
- Claire: So, we get paid and get to have sex?
- Me: Yes, that's how it works. I'm not seeing a downside.
- Claire: What if the people are gross? I guess that hasn't stopped us in the past.
I finally found a parking spot!!
For the first time all week, I didn’t have to search all over for a spot. Twice there was an opening just waiting for me. Twice. And maybe I’m jinxing it by writing about it but you know what, I deserved those parking spots after spending 45 minutes over the last two days driving around the lots. And maybe you’ll think this is too small a victory to get so excited about but hey, it’s the simple things in life, people.
I desperately need to get away. I need a vacation. I’m burnt out and I’m stressed over so much stuff. I’m also the only person I know who can become even more burnt out and stressed to the point that I need a vacation from my vacation. I mean, who else flips out and says “I’d rather just stay here (here being a gray, freezing cold, lifeless town) and work than go someplace warm in the Caribbean. I just cannot handle going away right now.” Everytime I try to book it something comes up that makes it seem like too much money and too much of a hassle for essentially a long weekend. If I had to bet money (or if I had money to make a bet), I would say it’s not going to happen, solely because of my unique ability to carry a nasty gray rain cloud and a hefty dose of pessimism and/or indecision with me wherever I go.
After 22 years, I’ve finally come to the conclusion that I’m a people person. I never thought I’d say that. I was shy as a kid and definitely went through a very long misanthropic period during my Mark Twain phase. I didn’t like talking to people. They used to piss me off. I didn’t like going to parties or mingling or even just tagging along with other people’s activities. I like doing what I want to do when I want to do it, period. My mother and grandmother worried I’d end up pathetic and alone (I’m allergic to cats).
But in the last two days, when I’ve been grouchy and angry and frustrated and nearing total meltdown territory, talking to people has made me feel better. Not “people” like mental health professionals or even close friends (although the friends helped too), but “people” like colleagues with whom I had meetings (many meetings that I was dreading). Maybe it was because I had something else to focus on, or maybe it’s because it’s more fun talking with people, even about boring stuff, than it is sitting at a desk in a cubby with no window.
I’m not sure how I feel about needing people. I hate needing anyone. I thought I was happy, or at least reasonably satisfied, being on my own, a regular little hermit. It’s a bit unsettling to realize that when I am alone, especially with my ever-present thoughts, I’m really only a danger to myself.
Guys simply should not use the phrase “OMG” in writing or in conversation. It’s bad enough when girls do it, but I’m pretty confident that I lose all respect for a guy when I hear/see it used.
I am 1000% NOT OK with the icky nasty snow that is leaving a beautiful accumulation all over and making it really really difficult for me to drive home to get lunch even though I’m starrrrrrrrrrving.
I am such a ridiculous baby that I absolutely cannot watch the series finale of Gilmore Girls without bawling ridiculously through the entire thing.
The kind who watches Gilmore Girls nonstop, cries even though she’s seen every episode a zillion times, and has no self-control around the Wheat Thins or the cookie dough.
Heather A. Dinich of espn.com, formerly of The Baltimore Sun, used to be someone I wanted to emulate. A young female sportswriter who worked her way from a mid-size daily to getting her byline posted all over espn.com. And then she had to go and name the USC-Stanford game the #1 most memorable game of 2007. I’m a USC fan, and I wish everyone would freakin stop rubbing it in my face. It’s seriously starting to get like the 2005 Rose Bowl (about which I am also still bitter). I’d just like to point out that it would not be so memorable if all the sportswriters and football analysts and everyone on blog sites except me would Stop Bringing It Up!!!! That is all.
- Me: [walks into coworkers office]
- My boss: You look...green.
- My coworker, who has already made a horrific face upon seeing me: Yeah, you don't look good at all.
- Me: Wow. Thanks...Green?
- My boss: Well, you just look a little peaked.
- Me: Yeah, I knew it was bad as soon as I saw your faces.
- My coworker: Go home. You need rest.