Joshua Blankenship Thought of It First

Now that I've avoided taking credit for the ingenious Notes to Self idea, I can actually start making some.

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Note to self: Sit up straight. You do not have bad posture because you have scoliosis. Your scoliosis is in your lumbar spine, not your thoracic spine. Keep your shoulder blades down and back - you always feel better about yourself when you do.

Note to self: Stop coughing up blood. It's gross, and possibly a symptom of something bad.

Note to self: Quit going to shitty doctors because you're a broke college kid. Suck it up and ask your parents to pay for a decent doctor. They'll be happy when you don't get consumption.

Note to self: Don't worry about the things you cannot control.

Note to self: Understand which things you cannot control, and learn to accept them.

Note to self: Meditate more.

Note to self: Never stop your yearly reading of Catch-22. It always gives you something to look forward to, and you always get something out of it.

Note to self: Stop viewing love as a weakness. This is probably why you're 23 and dysfunctional, blogging your thoughts instead of actually telling them to someone.

Note to self: Never forget how you became the person you are. Humble beginnings make great people.

Note to self: Stop living in your sister's shadow. You're actually taller than she is.

That Sounds Ultra!

I'm biding my time waiting on some ultrasound results. The technician lady said it looked like just some tissue (woot - I suspected as much), but the radiologist is supposed to review the films and let my doctor know, who will then inform me. I think it was the same chick who did my last ultrasound. That one wasn't so ultra.

Last night I was thinking (scary, I know), and I realized that over the past 12 months, I've been tested for terminal diseases two or three times. I'm not counting the ultrasound yet because they've yet to biopsy me, and I'd like to add that I don't think they need to. I say "two or three" because there are some tests they can do before they spinal tap you to see if you're meningitis-prone, and I happen to know what these are, having had them before whilst being checked for meningitis. They once did all those on me again, but they never told me why - I just knew.

Anyway, today I was coughing a lot, and I tasted blood in my throat. Can anyone explain that to me? I didn't see it (obviously, or I would've freaked out and gone across the street from work to the hospital, quarantined myself, and started reciting "The Masque of the Red Death" - my favorite Poe story, by the way), but I could taste it.

I'm going to high-tail it to the doctor tomorrow, which will go something like this: "What the fuck?! OK, I cave. You can put me on steroids! And, you know, I won't fight you for bloodwork, either, since it seems to want to make it's way up my esophagus or trachea or something. Let's just say 'throat' - it's wanting to say 'hi' to my tonsils, so maybe you should take a looksee and find out what the hell is in it."

All of these symptoms, though they sound freaky, will probably turn out to be incredibly mundane. I'm sure I'm just coughing so hard I'm breaking blood vessels or something, or maybe last week's chest pain or the anti-inflammatories have something to do with it. At any rate, I'm going to bed. I need to rest.

Keeping up with the Joneses

It seems fitting that someone searched for this Web site and clicked my blog today. Why? Because yet another peon of the jolly old sheriff came a-knockin' this morning, even earlier than last week's wake-up call.

I kid. This guy actually sounded nice, from what I could decipher in my half-awake state at 7:13 a.m., four minutes before my clock went off. Don't you hate that? Four minutes of sleep, stolen from me viciously as The Tina answered and informed the man that we are still the only residents of this lovely abode, and can they please stop bothering us at such ungodly hours? She didn't put it like that (I probably would have, which is why I'm not the ungodly-hour door answerer), but she did give them the landlord info so they could check it out. He assured us they won't be back.

I plan to paper the door with printouts of the Web site and notices reading "Welcome to the Home of Only Wendy and Tina and No One Wanted by the Rutherford County Sheriff...Please Come Back at Noon" just in case they're lying. If they come at 6 a.m. next week, I will be very angry.

Hey, if any of those fine folk are reading this, the crackhead neighbors are gone, too. I don't know where - they just kind of stopped coming back. Their dog disappeared about a month or so before they did - I imagine they traded it for some blow, but this is all wild speculation with no basis. I just want to avoid an early-a.m. knock about those people, too, while I'm posting disclaimers.

Who in the hell teaches law enforcement to knock so damn loudly? I mean, I can sleep through it, but The Tina's room is in the back of the house, and it woke her up. That's just nuts! Thank God my REM cycles are borderline-comatose. I imagine if they came on a day she wasn't home, they'd shoot the damn door open.

Kind of Makes You Want to Be a Gay Cowboy in Wyoming

I finally saw Brokeback Mountain this afternoon with Khall. It was really good.

I get to wake up early tomorrow for some doctorin' fun. I can't wait! That was sarcastic.

I think I'm getting sick. I feel feverish, but that just hit me on the way home. I got a case of chills and sweats, which is lovely, really, considering I haven't been sick, really, since the mono, and I don't count the surgery stuff.

Nigel! Fetch Me a Towel!

I took a long soak in the bathtub when I woke up today because work almost killed me last night. Luckily, I had Whitney there, and we were prepared to go down with the ship together. All in all, we functioned nicely.

After the bath, I wrapped myself in my purple monogrammed towel - a gift from my high school graduation so many years ago. The greatest part about my bathroom: The air vent is directly above where I keep my towels, so they always have that fresh-from-the-dryer feel when I get out of the shower or bath.

It makes me feel like a rock star or royalty, only without the invasive man-servant who has to scramble in as soon as the water flow ceases to offer a freshly-warmed towel.

"Your towel, madam," he would say in a decidedly cool accent.

I think his name would be Nigel.

"Put that in your mouth, chew it - it's delicious"

Appetizer
Choose one: moving to another state, having triplets, or never being able to eat chocolate again.
Moving to another state, preferably one without active volcanoes, as they scare the bejesus and all other holy entities out of me. I could go for New York or Florida, something inland and not likely to get pummeled by nature or the wrath of God.

Soup
Name a news story that truly shocked you.
Princess Diana's death seemed surreal. I remember sitting in church, and my sister turned to me and said, "Princess Diana died," and I couldn't believe it. I know the whole Sept. 11 thing was shocking, too, but I was an adult, so it was believable. It hit me right away. The Diana thing, though. It didn't hit me for a few days.

Salad
What was your very first job?
Jumping on a bed and having a pillow fight in Neal McCoy's music video "They're Playin' Our Song." I was 12, and I got paid $100.

Main Course
If you had the chance to read the diary of someone you're really close to, would you? Why or why not?
I'd probably just laugh at them for having a diary past the age of 12. Would I read someone's journal or private thoughts? HELL NO! I am adamant against reading private thoughts of others. If they wanted me to read it, they'd give it to me.

Dessert
What's something you're looking forward to?
Having dinner and drinks with my parents Friday night. It's always fun getting to spend time with them.

Oh, what the heck? Let's have a song of the day - the same song we danced to on Valentine's Day in jazz, and one of my favorite dance songs. It's "Don't Call Me Baby" by Madison Avenue.

You and me, we have an opportunity
And we could make it something really cool
But you, you think I'm not that kind of girl
I'm here to tell you baby, I know how to rock your world

Don't think that I'm not strong
I'm the one to take you on
Don't underestimate me boy
I'll make you sorry you were born
You don't know me
The way you really should
You sure misunderstood

Don't call me baby
You got some nerve, and baby that'll never do
You know I don't belong t o you
It's time you knew I'm not your baby
I belong to me, so
Don't call me baby

Behind my smile is my IQ
I must admit, this does not sit, with the likes of you
You're really sweet
Mmm, you're really nice
But didn't mama ever tell you not to play with fire?

Don't think that I'm not strong
I'm the one to take you on
Don't underestimate me boy
I'll make you sorry you were born
You don't know me
The way you really should
You sure misunderstood

Don't call me baby
You got some nerve, and baby that'll never do
You know I don't belong t o you
It's time you knew I'm not your baby
I belong to me, so
Don't call me baby
You and me, we have an opportunity
And we could make it something really cool
But you, you think I'm not that kind of girl
I'm here to tell you baby, I know how to rock your world

Don't think that I'm not strong
I'm the one to take you on
Don't underestimate me boy
I'll make you sorry you were born
You don't know me
The way you really should
You sure misunderstood

Don't call me baby
You got some nerve, and baby that'll never do
You know I don't belong t o you
It's time you knew I'm not your baby
I belong to me, so
Don't call me baby

Don't call me baby
You got some nerve, and baby that'll never do
You know I don't belong t o you
It's time you knew I'm not your baby
I belong to me, so
Don't call me baby

Have You Heard About Her Cute Dog?

Yes, hers.

Why am I linking Khall? Well, I got bored and pimped out my MySpace, so check it out.

I have a Top 20 now, and if you read this blog, you're in it, unless you're Lindsey or someone else without MySpace. Really, Lindsey, I would've kicked people out of my Top 8 for you.

I even put captions under the photos, and, naturally, the blog title belongs to none other than Khall.

Your Cheatin' Heart Will Make You...Meatloaf

I got hungry. My meatloaf is in the oven. While it's cooking, I thought I'd share a heart-warming story from work today. Names have been changed to protect the innocent, the accused and the ones I haven't yet categorized.

I was in the back today doing something that could be construed as constructive when the phone rang, and I, forgetting my last Starbucks phone run-in, stupidly answered it. Here's what ensued. My comments, naturally, are in italics.

Me: Thank you for calling Smyrna Starbucks. This is Wendy. How may I help you?
Yes, I realize this is dumb. "Thank you for calling?" Who says that? I do, obviously. I'm such a tool.

Gentleman Caller: How would I get there if I were coming from Nashville on 24?
Don't you like the name I picked for him?

Me: Take exit 66B, which is the same exit you'd take if you were going to the hospital. The ramp curves around, and you'll take a left at the first light, which is Team Boulevard. You can't miss us when you're at the light.
I like to throw in that it's the hospital exit. People notice those blue signs on the interstate.

GC: Thank you. Can I ask you something? Are you still there?
That's two somethings you just asked me, but OK. Go ahead. Ask again.

Me: Yes. I'm here.

GC: What do you do there?

Me: (short pause, trying to let this question soak in) I make coffee. (in a cheery voice) And I occasionally answer the phones!

GC: Are you the one who writes the names on the cups?
Wow, he knows an awful lot about coffee house procedure to be asking me what I do here. I hope he's not going to tell me he's been watching me for days or something, but if he asked for directions, that's not likely. OK, I'll play along. My day started with a merry thug - I should've known it was going to get weird...er.

Me: Sometimes, if I'm up front.

GC: Has you had an Amy?

Me: I'm not sure - I've been on drive-thru tonight.

GC: Do you know if there's been anyone named Amy in tonight?

Me: I haven't been up front, so I don't know.
At this point, I started getting kind of hopeful, like maybe this was some long-lost love of "Amy" who was planning on showing up with roses and an engagement ring or something. I kind of felt bad for not knowing, but if you work drive-thru, you're a slave to the window.

GC: OK, well, if you want to know why I'm asking, I've heard my fiancee is cheating on me, and she's supposed to be there tonight.
Whoa, didn't see that one coming. I guess he just needed someone to tell, and it just happened to be whoever answered the phone at Starbucks. I guess he's planning a stakeout. Neat!

Me: (I have no recollection of what I said here. I think it was something apologetic about not knowing or something. Then we hung up.)

I immediately burst out laughing. Here's what I hoped would happen later that night.

Amy and Her Lover would be sitting in the comfy chairs together, having their lustful lattes, oblivious to GC's plans to interrupt their rendezvous. Then, GC bursts in, screaming at Amy, calling her a cheating whore or something equally insulting if it weren't true. Amy would stand up, defiant, yelling, "You don't even know me!" looking all sad that she was caught. She may even order a cup of water just to throw in his face. HL would stand up in defense of Amy's honor, and then...the camera crew from Cheaters would come in to get it all on tape and GC broke down, sobbing onto the floor, knocking over our display of coffee beans, as I curse under my breath, picking up the spilled Verona. The coffee of love. How poetic.

But, sadly, none of that happened. I say "sadly" because if she is cheating I think she should get caught, and if she's not, I'd like him to try to catch her and be unsuccessful, but if he's untrustworthy enough to call me to reveal his ploy to catch her, they shouldn't get married. Of course, I didn't say any of this to him, but he sounded cute, and I was kind of bummed that a big showdown didn't happen. I even hung around a bit after I got off work, which my coworkers found amusing.

Good Morning, Merry Thug!

So that's what I look like fuscia, as Kevin thinks I should be. What do you think? Does it suit me? I still think I'm black.

In the grand tradition of waking me up in fucked up ways, this morning there was a knock at my door. Now, anyone who knows me knows that coming to my door at 8 a.m. is a bad idea. Naturally, I was too asleep to notice. However, The Tina woke up, and I guess I heard her open the door or something, because I heard the last knock, and looked out the window to see a Rutherford County Sheriff's Deputy car in my driveway.

I was curious, but not curious enough to get out of bed - Tina was already at the door anyway. Apparently they rang the doorbell, but I didn't hear it.

I heard her tell them we'd been living at the house since June (actually April, but who cares), and then they left.

Apparently, they were looking for the previous renters of this place - it's the guy's last listed address. Obviously wanted people don't notify authorities of their new residences. They usually aren't THAT dumb. I stress the word "usually" here. They had no more business with us, and I was free to go back to sleep.

Whew! I thought maybe they'd run a background check on me and discovered nothing. A few of you will get the humor and that. The rest of you can mull it over.

"The world's on fire and it's more than I can handle"

Actually, my chest is on fire, or it feels that way. About a week and a half ago, I woke up with severe chest pain. I didn't really think anything of it, because this has happened to me before back in the good ole days of walking pneumonia. Yes, my friends, I miss those days. A chest X-ray, some antibiotics, a little bedrest, and you're up and about in no time...and then in bed for another four days. But I digress.

I didn't go to the doctor then because I don't fancy steroids, and super huge doses of Motrin (aka Advil) really don't do it for me, and all the other anti-inflammatories are sulfa-based, and I'm allergic to those. Well, today whilst I was getting my dance on in jazz, I got the sharp pains in my chest again, only this time it was on my left side instead of my right, and to top it all off, I had some shortness of breath and near passing out to boot. If class had gone all the full amount of time, I wouldn't be typing right now - I'd be in the hospital, my mom no doubt freaking out because someone would have called her saying her daughter had collapsed in dance.

After class, I went to the doctor, and they respected my wishes of no steroids. Why don't I like steroids? Well, I don't dislike them in small amounts, but I had to take so many back in the days of Mono Part 2 (The Mono Strikes Back) and Mono Relapse (The Return of the Mono) that I started getting shaky toward the end. I know over the past year or so, I've had at least three steroid packs, possibly four. That's whack. This time, however, I'm actually still physically active, and I really don't want to bulk up, so no 'roids for me. Do they call them 'roids now? I think if not they should.

Now I'm supposed to vegetate for a day or so, so The Tina is running meeting tonight, and I'm watching what I'm sure will turn out to be sub-par action movies. Worse things have happened.

Thursday, I get to see my obgyn! Woot! I just love getting my rack checked out. I've already been told it's probably cystic fiber something-or-other (which is doctor talk for "not cancer" I think - usually they just tell me "not cancer"), but they still think I should let him look at it. I'm not really worried. Of all the cancer my family gets (and believe me, we get some cancer), breast cancer is one that we don't get. We do, however, get benign breast tumors and whatnot, so odds are I'm just going to be the youngest in my family to have one of those (I think I beat my mom by about 10 or 15 years, and I know I beat my grandmother).

The moral of the story: It helps to do that monthly self breast exam. Your gyno sees your breasts once a year. You see them everyday. You're way more likely to find something abnormal.

This message brought to you by the color PINK (what else).

20 - 1 Firsts

According to Weather.com, it's 25 degrees outside. Translation: Going outside with wet hair was not a good idea. There are ice crystals all over my car; it kind of looks like glitter.

Salazar (the snake) is back to his usual self, exploring his cage and attempting to escape. Don't worry, friends, there are many text books keeping him in. No one can escape Thomas Calculus Tenth Edition (for all you AP fanatics out there, it's actually spelled out on the cover, so that's what I'm going with).

So, whilst I await my laundry to finish so that I can put it in the dryer and sleep read until I can't keep my eyes open anymore, here's a damn survey everyone I know (or three people, whatever) did. It's called "20 Firsts," which is terribly misleading because No. 6 is missing. Why is it that every survey has a number missing? And, more importantly, why does everyone leave that number missing? Why not just renumber and end at 19? That's what I'm going to do.

Without further ado, 20 - 1 Firsts.

1. Who was your first true love?
How about instead of trying to suss out a meaning of "true love" - far too open to interpretation - I'll just share a lovely gem of the first time I SAW true love. I was 15, it was Sept. 22, around 1:25 a.m., barely Tuesday. My aunt Sandi had just given birth to Kendall Dawn Irons, her first daughter. When I saw her hold her for the first time, it made me cry. That is true love. I have yet to find a dinner out with a guy that even comes close in comparison.

2. Who was your first kiss and when?
Aaron something-or-other. His mom was a librarian, and he had an older brother named Patrick. He was really cute for a preschooler. I, too, was like three or four - it was on the playground at day care, you sick freaks.

3. Who was your first prom date?
Kelsey was my prom date both years.

4. Who was your first roommate?
I guess my sister, because we shared a room when I was a baby because she kept getting out of bed in the middle of the night to come look at me. My parents just put me in her room to resolve the issue.

5. What alcoholic beverage did you drink when you got drunk the first time?
Homemade elderberry wine

6. What was your first job?
I was in the music video "They're Playin' Our Song" by Neal McCoy. If you really want to know, I was one of the kids jumping on the bed. I was 12, and I got paid $100 to do that and have a pillow fight. It was cool.

7. What was your first car?
My sister and I shared an '89 Pulsar that I named Jack. Then my dad bought me a '66 Thunderbird I named Foxy Ty. Then my mom freaked out about me driving an old car so we got my '95 Saturn, Mannix.

8.When did you go to your first funeral?
When I was 11, I went to my great-grandmother's funeral. My great-grandfather died a month before I was born, so I imagine I was in the womb during that one.

9. How old were you when you first moved away from your hometown?
8, but I probably would've said 8 1/2 if you'd asked me then.

10. Who was your first grade teacher?
Mrs. Vagnier

11. Where did you go on your first ride on an airplane?
Disney World with my dad. We flew first class, and I got to go in the cockpit because it was my first time on an airplane, and I was in first class, and they pretty much let you do whatever you wanted back then. I was 13.

12. Where did you go for your first date and who was it with?
To see Patch Adams and then to get ice cream at Baskin Robbins, and it was with Patrick, who, to this day, still holds the record for best Valentine's Day (I don't count the ones I spend with family, obviously).

13. When you snuck out of your house for the first time, who was it with?
I don't sneak out of my house. I just say I'm going out, and they used to want me to call if I was going to be out past 6 a.m., but now they don't care.

14. Who was your first real best friend and are you still friends with them?
My sister. Yes, I'm still friends with her, obviously. She'd normally be waking up now if it weren't a school holiday (I assume she also gets Presidents' Day off - most schools do).

15. Who was the first person to send you flowers?
I'm not sure who was first after my first surgery, because I was all drugged up, but probably friends and family, and my surgeon, who also sent flowers. I probably sent his kids to college with all the surgeries he did on me, so it all works out.

16. Where did you live the first time you moved out of your parents house?
Dobbs Hall at Emory

17. Who is the first person you call when you have a bad day?
My dad, which, after reading everyone else's answers, is kind of weird.

18. Who's wedding were you in the first time you were a bridesmaid or a groomsmen
I was a junior bridesmaid in Sandi's wedding (I was 11). I have no plans on being a groomsman.

19. What is the first thing you do in the morning?
Usually between 4 and 6 a.m., I go to bed. If you want to know what I do when I first wake up, I hit the snooze button. When I actually get out of bed, I put on some pants.

The Snowed-ins of Yesteryear

Please tell me someone got that reference. Please? I'm looking to all you educated masses.

I went to Hendersonville Saturday night for some fun with the familiy, and we naturally grilled out in the snow. It's not the first time we've done it. There was ice all over the driveway, and we had steak, grilled chicken, and my dad started smoking a pork butt for barbecue for Sunday's race. Then I realized I can't even remember the last time we only grilled ONE meat. We're quite the carnivores.

My dad and I had some Jack Daniel's and played backgammon, and I lost, which is OK, because I hadn't played in a few years.

Bonus: Khall can play backgammon, too! This is exciting!

Oh, what the hell, let's have a song of the day: "Year of the Cat" by Al Stewart.

On a morning from a Bogart movie
In a country where they turn back time
You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre
Contemplating a crime

She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running
Like a watercolour in the rain
Don't bother asking for explanations
She'll just tell you that she came
In the year of the cat

She doesn't give you time for questions
As she locks up your arm in hers
And you follow 'till your sense of which direction
Completely disappears

By the blue tiled walls near the market stalls
There's a hidden door she leads you to
These days, she says, I feel my life
Just like a river running through
The year of the cat

Well, she looks at you so cooly
And her eyes shine like the moon in the sea
She comes in incense and patchouli
So you take her, to find what's waiting inside
The year of the cat

Well, morning comes and you're still with her
And the bus and the tourists are gone
And you've thrown away the choice and lost your ticket
So you have to stay on

But the drum-beat strains of the night remain
In the rhythm of the new-born day
You know sometime you're bound to leave her
But for now you're going to stay
In the year of the cat

Don't Let It Spoil Your Appetite

It doesn't feel like February. I went out to get The Tina some cigarettes, and it felt like a balmy spring evening right before a tornado picks up the car next to you and hurls it about three football fields. Really, I can't describe the weather without sounding like American Beauty unless I go for exaggerated comedy.

My posture has been incredible today. I have no idea why. I think it's the dance clothing - whenever I'm in dance clothes, I just have this need to keep my body properly alligned. I really like that, though. My back looks much better straight, and I really like my back. I'm odd, though.

Speaking of odd, time for the feast!

Appetizer
If you were a color, which color would you be, and why?
This one is easy - I would definitely be black. This isn't just because I look best in black and have an inordinate amount of black clothing (and even more black shoes), although all of those are true. Black isn't really a color: It is the absence of color (also the absence of light). In a way that's me: I'm not really what I'm supposed to be (by my standards or anyone else's), and I often feel like I'm the answer to a question nobody asked, or maybe just the right answer to the wrong question. But, to be short about it, I'd be black.

Soup
When was the last time you went to the doctor, and what was your reason for going?
Thursday I went to see the neurologist to get weighed to make sure I still exist. Good news: I haven't lost any weight! Also, my blood pressure was a little higher than usual (94/66), which is odd because last night I had a dream that my blood pressure was higher than normal. I should really stop having these weird dreams.

Salad
What do you collect?
Coins mostly. It's been a while since I've even done that. Now I guess it would be books, if one can collect books. I can say I have a collection of books, and that works for me.

Main Course
What were you like in high school? Name one thing you miss and one thing you don't miss about those days. (If you're still there, imagine how you'll remember it in the future.)
I was a little bit shorter for one thing. I was one of the smart kids. I was the president of Honor Society and Latin Club and was involved in and held offices in about a dozen other things. I was on the Quiz Bowl team (rare for a female in my day), I was on all of the math competition teams, and I was also heavily involved in theatre and had the lead my senior year. Yep. I was THAT girl. Only THAT girl was always ridiculously hot, and, sadly, I was not. Oh, and I dyed my hair quite a bit and thought Commando football was the only way to spend a Friday night. One thing I miss: having all of my good friends at my fingertips every day. One thing I don't miss: not being legal to drink. Yeah, I wish I could be deeper than that, but I had a blast in high school.

Dessert
Pretend you're standing in front of your home, with your back towards your home. Describe the view - what can you see? Trees? Cars? A zoo? Wal-Mart? The house across the street. I'm only pretending here - the wind may have picked up some debris and dropped it off for all I know. It is a blustery evening.

Crash into My Bed for a Fantastic Foursome...No Thugs Allowed

I just watched Crash. It's a great movie.

Here's how I was greeted into consciousness today: The Tina and Brandy Is Awesome crawled into my bed (maybe half crawled, half jumped) on either side of me, then the cat walked on me and laid down on my chest. Good morning world!

This is too funny, and reminds me of the good ole days: TrumanJones.com

Also, I'm sad to report that I did NOT win the PowerBall. Too bad. If I were that rich, a good number of you reading this would come out pretty well, too. If you understand the last part of the blog title, you're definitely in for some cash. If not, you'll just have to wait and see.

Shellshock

I forgot to blog about Valentine's Day. Here's what happened.

Woke up in terror after having an all-too-real nightmare about the Devil. Couldn't get out of bed because I was afraid, and after having a realistic nightmare, it takes a while to figure out that it didn't really happen. Around 12:30 p.m. I finally get up, and while walking to philosophy I saw...the Devil. I managed to obscure the rest of my path and avoid confrontation, and I'm fairly certain he didn't see me, which was nice. I spent at least half of philosophy staring into space trying not to have a panic attack, which mainly consists of deep breathing and trying to convince myself it didn't happen. Somehow I held it together, which means I'm making progress. I guess that's something.

Excuse Me While I Put Another Hole in My Head

Actually, I put two in my left ear today. I decided to get my ear pierced again (twice), and the girl ahead of me was all scared about it, so she wanted to watch me go first. When I didn't die (or even flinch) from the double piercing, she decided to go ahead with it. That was my good deed of the day.

Last night I was in Hendersonville at my parents' house when I got the sudden urge to read Angels and Demons. I have no idea where my copy of that book is, so I went to Wal-Mart to buy it again. I love books.

I also watched Bewitched. Is there anything cuter than seeing Nicole Kidman clap when the popcorn pops in the microwave? I think not!

Today I woke up at 1:30, watched Cinderella Man (which is great, by the way), and got Valentine's Day presents from my parents: chocolate. My dad even got me GODIVA CHOCOLATE! Which is why my dad is still my favorite man on the planet - no one else ever gets me Godiva chocolate.

I now have...11 piercings. Double down! I'm excited by this, and I plan to have my left ear completely pierced one of these days, but today was not the day, as I did not have time.

On tonight's agenda: read, sleep, dream of something other than scary honeymoons.

On tomorrow's agenda: class, Greek Life meeting, more class, work, drink, probably Love Actually.

I keep seeing this preview for Pride & Prejudice, and it also somewhat appeals to me even though it's not really my kind of movie, and I finally know why: They use the music from Love Actually in the background. Those sneaky bastards!

Happy Valentine's Day to all you people out there. I hope you all have lots of fancy dinners and candlelit sex for me. If you're in Smyrna, drop by and say hi. I'll be there, slinging espresso like a pro.

Where Has All the Hand Soap Gone? OR Who's in My House? OR Something Shocking This Way Comes

It occurred to me last night, while I was washing my hands, that a good deal of my hand soap is gone. This struck me as odd, because I have very small hands, and I don't need much hand soap to clean my hands. In fact, I've had that same Victoria's Secret Romantic Wish Hand Soap for probably a year or so. Granted, sometimes I wash my hands in the kitchen (if I'm cooking), but, still, a large percentage of hand soap has gone, and I'd ballpark it within the past month.

I guess I have had a lot of people at my house in that time frame, but do they have large hands? The sorority has been over a bit, but unless I've had six or seven people using my hand soap as shower gel and shampoo, I'm not seeing where this is going. Weird.

I woke up today around 8 a.m. (don't worry, I went back to sleep until a healthy 3:30 p.m.) because I heard voices in the house. I gathered one was Brian Doesn't Know, and the other was some guy. It always weirds me out to hear people in my house when I know The Tina is gone. I also heard someone come in and leave around noonish. I found out after I woke up that it was Brandy leaving flowers. Awww.

As anyone who has been in my house lately can attest to (Brian Doesn't Know and I talked about this last night, actually) - there is a lot of static in my house lately. What's up with that? I can't even get up to turn on the light without shocking myself, and heaven help me if I touch anything in bed. I'm surprised I haven't fried myself plugging in my phone to charge.

The Pro Bowl is about to start. They might as well just call that, "Even More Proof Why the AFC is the Only Conference That Matters." Seriously. I can't remember the last time I saw the NFC win. OK, OK, maybe it was 2004, but in my defense, I didn't get to watch that game, and before that it was 2000, and before that it was 1996, which was a great year for movies, but that's neither here nor there.

Tonight I'm going to Hendersonville, to be fed (thanks, Dad). Tomorrow, he's doing my back brakes, and hopefully I can talk him into getting my migraine pills refilled, as they are $40, and I am poor. We'll see how that goes.

Well, time to shower, then I'm off to the Pi Kappa Phi meeting to try to convince one of them to dress up like a woman for our Drag Show. That should be fun.

"There's still so much to be done"

Hey, that holiday is coming up: Valentine's Day. Who hates it? I do. I always have, even when I've been attached. I cancelled sorority meeting that night because the girls need the night off. What will I be doing? Who gets to be the special person on my Valentine's Day? Well, Meredith. At work today she mentioned that she was closing that night, and she's had a boyfriend for two years. I offered to come in around 7 p.m. and finish the night for her. She was really happy. I mean, seriously, I can be single any day of the year. Go be with your boyfriend, Meredith. I'm not this nice all the time. Take advantage of it. Afterward, Nick and I are going to find a bar and drink until his birthday. Don't freak out - his birthday is February 15. It seems fitting that Starbucks is my Valentine. Awww. Anyone out there want to get me flowers? Well don't. They die. I don't like dead things. Get me chocolate, or Johnny Depp. I'm still waiting on that one. What I will probably do after I get home: watch Moulin Rouge, Love Actually or Chocolat. It really depends on what kind of mood I'm in: Nicole Kidman, Keira Knightley, or Johnny Depp. And if I want to cry.

I had a dream a little bit ago that I got married. Yeah, weird, I know. Me, married? I can't even find anyone to date, and yet subconscious Wendy was doing the "until death do us part" thing. Actually, I was on my honeymoon in my dream. I had on a black dress. The same black dress I wore to both Brett Bauman's and Kelley Burke's funerals. I guess that was my brain telling me someone else had died, which I found out today via e-mail. So much for the wedding thing. Oh well, it was nice having a dream honeymoon in a hot tub. No, it wasn't to anyone I know, and it wasn't to Johnny Depp. It was to a blonde. I don't picture myself marrying a blonde, either, so it was really odd. And while I'm being shallow, he was short and not attractive, but I seemed really happy, so I guess he was incredibly smart and funny, because that's my thing.

As talk at work got to birthdays, Nick said he's turning 22 next week, and I wished him a better year at 22 than I had. Then I got all in-my-head again, which I tend to do, which is also why I've decided I'm glad I'm not dating anyone now, because I sure as hell don't need anyone else in my head right now. I thought that this would be my last semester at school, that by now my life would have some kind of direction, that I'd be starting to get into that "settle down" mode.

But I haven't. Not even close. I'm slow going, but I think it's important to note that I'm still going. I haven't stopped. I'd like to get my PhD, but that means I'll be schooling until I'm around 30, and, frankly, that scares the shit out of me. When am I going to have time to live my life? I want to go galivanting about the planet at some point, hopefully while I'm still really young and ideally shortly after I fall in love with whoever I'm going to be with for the rest of my life. Ahh. Typing that sounds frightening. I actually typed "majority" first and realized how ridiculous that sounded.

I want to drive a car that I bought. I want to live in a house I paid for. I want to be able to spoil my kids, but I won't, because they need to know the value of being grateful for what they have. I want to go to Hawaii just to prove that volcanoes really aren't that scary. But I think I'd be OK if I didn't get around to doing that one.

I just feel like this place, this life, all that I'm doing now, is just holding me back, and I'm going to burst. I just want to be me.

Mmm...Feast Time!

Appetizer
What was a class or course you took while in school that you realize now was a total waste of time?
Calculus III was just like Calc I, so I remedied that by not going.

Soup
Who is the tallest person you know?
Luke or Hovan. They're both in the 6'5" - 6'6" range.

Salad
What's your favorite midnight snack?
If your mother isn't around, I like chocolate and Mountain Dew.

Main Course
Have you ever found money somewhere? If so, where did you find it, and how much was it?
We found a wallet at the mall once. We returned it.

Dessert
Where would you like to retire?
Johnny Depp's bed. Or somewhere warm.

Sex for My Feet

...is exactly what these socks are like. God, I hope Alice gets my name for Christmas every year.

Ahhhh. It was good for me. Now, where'd I put those post-coitus smokes?

"I'll miss your lips and everything attached to them"

So I recently went on this MySpace diary entry diatribe that only I can read, and I discovered one thing: I need to expand my curse word vocabulary. Seriously, my swearing consists of fucking this and goddamn that with various capitalizations, and I even went so far as to use the word "infuckingsinuate" - I'm especially proud of that one. Oh, and of course there were smatterings of bleeding hell and bloody. I like to throw those in when I can get away with it.

Of course, all this happened a day after I'd just told my dad that if one more person mentioned something to me I was going to go apeshit. Well, yeah, so I opted to go apeshit on MySpace. I can't wait to give my dad the update. He'll probably have some encouraging fatherly advice.

"Most people are fuckin' idiots." Or something to that effect. Either that or, "Why don't you just hang out with different people? Seems to me like the people who are stressing you out are optional." I don't know.

Oh Sidelines kids, why did you have to graduate, you bastards?

By the way, I just found out through reading Khall's comments that Amanda made an appearance on the night we'll never speak of again. That's cool shit! I mean, I remember seeing her and vaguely recall her almost being in my lap in very close quarters on the couch, but I thought that was in a subconscious dream capacity. By the way the comment sounds, though, she was ACTUALLY there. Can anyone help me out on this? Was she wearing a baby blue shirt? Am I making all of this up?

I hung out with some current Sidelines kids a few nights ago, and it went something like this: "If Fern leaves, will you come back. Please? Please?" If Fern leaves, I'm hosting a "Death to all things plant-like" party. You are all invited. Bring liquor, potted greenery, and Round-Up. It will be fun.

Tonight Colby and I are doing some catching up. It's a newspaper extravaganza. I guess that means I have to get drunk and call this guy and text him to complete the square. Yes, I'm aware that it's not actually a square, but do you remember completing the square in algebra? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? OK, then, moving on.

I watched Elizabethtown last night, and it was good. Then I woke up with some weird chest pains that I'd have checked out if I didn't already know that they'd just give me steroids that I don't want to take. The pains are gone, now, anyway.

Nota Bene: My phone is possessed right now, and sometimes it works OK, and sometimes it takes me 24 hours or so to get messages. So if you really need me, call me. Or e-mail me. Or scream really loudly. It might work - I certainly haven't tried it yet.

Must Love Blogs

If I had one word to describe today/tonight, it would be: EXPLETIVE. And yes, capitalization is necessary.

Why, you ask? Did I not hear "Purple Rain" or something? Actually, "Purple Rain" was great. But the rest of the night, aside from some cool bonding with Tanya, was not so great.

I pretty much had a day of lots of meetings and lots of talking and even more meetings and talking and yeah bad. I'd go into more detail, but I can't really. I mean, I CAN, I just know better than to do so in a public forum. As we've all learned, yours truly is smarter than she looks.

On tomorrow's agenda: Go to work earlier than I want to. The plus side: Get off work earlier than I expect to.

Khall is blogging again. Of course, as I told her, I won't link her until she gets those 10 dog-free blogs. I kid because I love (hence the title). And I'm sure at some point she'll make me the Stupid Tennessean of the Day because of it.

Lindsey has learned how to make marquee text. Now I feel lame with my links and whatnot. I need to learn some cool shit. Wait. No I don't. There's no reason why a math/philosophy double-major should know that.

Define weird: Kids at karaoke last week - remember the host who sang "Feel Like Makin' Love" and we all decided he was kind of cute? Well, he knew my name! I mean, I get I had a class with him, but I didn't go. You might say I made a cameo on certain test days, but I wasn't, you know, a season regular or anything. I saw him at the pub tonight - the Campus Pub, not to be confused with JR's oft-discussed "regrettable-carpet pubs."

I know, I know. My mom has regrettable carpet. That was for you, Manda - that was you for. Now leave me a comment before I go insane!

Crazy, and Not in the Britney Spears Way

For a day of some cancelled class, I sure do feel jaded. Perhaps it was my extended Greek Life meeting. Or typing up the meeting agenda for tonight. Or finishing Colby's recommendation letter because the last paragraph just sounded awkward to me last night. It's better now, though.

Last night I went over to help Frodo with some algebra. I excel at college algebra (naturally - I nailed that shit in eighth grade). And apparently Strip Flip Cup is commonplace now. Insert vomit here. I read him my blog about it. He laughed a lot.

I got my Dead Like Me disc back - Woot!

Tonight I have: Meeting with scholarship chair, meeting with exec board, sorority meeting, Campus Pub (because Aaron said he'd sing "Purple Rain," and, damnit, I will make him).

Oh, I totally forgot: THE STEELERS ROCK MY WORLD! I watched the game at the Italian Grill in Hendersonville. Papa (the owner) let us have free food and booze (beer, liquor, wine, whatever). We had a pool going on the winner and overall score. I lost to This Oak Ridge Boy. I can live with that. That's right, kids. I watch the Super Bowl with above-average Joes...er Richards...Dicks!

I'll stop there.

"I Am Medicine and I Am Poison"

Wow. I haven't blogged in a while. Mostly I've been drunk, drinking, or buzzing. Possibly all three. At least I was in good company. Thanks for showing us how to rock it Eaton Street style.

All in all, it was a glorious weekend. I especially liked the part where I got to hang out with people MY OWN AGE. It really puts things into perspective. I've had a lot of perspective hurled at me at lightning speed, and I think it's good for me. It has become far too clear that there's a part of my life that needs to be cut out before it becomes an even worse cancer than it already is. Sometimes you just need those other people around you to remind you of your self worth. Or something.

I know, I know, you were right. Seriously, though. Next time just throw something at me until I cave a lot sooner. Something nice, though, like a pillow, or a box of cookies.

More on this later.

A Cup of Joe...I Can't Believe I Let Myself Get That Lame

Yesterday at work, I made coffee for this man. He used to tell me school was cancelled. Then I had a dream I made his cappuccino too light. Shoot me.

Somebody might have cleaned out her car last night! That means somebody else better appreciate it - and don't you dare look in the trunk. That's where I stash the bodies.

Why did it rain today? I hate my car. It hates me. It rains on me. It rains in the car. Fuck Saturns. Sigh. At least it's clean.

Sorry, Tina, it was too funny not to post. This is how I woke up today. Tina came into my room this morning.

Tina: Have you seen my fake boobs? The cutlets?
Me: No.
Tina: Why aren't you in class?
Me: I slept through my alarm. But I didn't have a migraine!
Tina: Why aren't you in your next class?
Me: I'm still sleeping through it.

Oh the joys of having a cool roommate. Snake update: He's in his rock. I think he's shedding. That's like the snake for of PMS, so stay away. He gets all bitchy when he sheds.

I've Finally Decided...and I Didn't Cut Anything in Half

I'm Stella. It took me a while to figure that one out.

If you're not Lindsey or Amber, I'm referring to Gut Symmetries by Jeanette Winterson, who has definitely become my favorite writer.

For the past few months I've wondered if I'm Stella or Alice, as I possess traits of both, but when it comes down to it, I'm definitely Stella in this little cat-and-mouse-and-other-mouse charade.

I'm glad that's settled. Now I can go to bed.

I know, I know. I didn't say who Alice and Jove are. Maybe they'll figure themselves out. Wouldn't that be neat? I expect too much of people. No one has my taste in books except Lindsey and Amber. Didn't you just love The Passion? I hate when people think I'm referring to the Jesus movie when I mention that book. This actually happened to me (more than once):

"What are you reading?"
"The Passion."
"Like the movie?"
"No, that's the Bible."

Sigh. Lindsey: This is me doing that equal-opportunity hating:) You like?

Get out of My Heart, Get into My Pants

Finally, Tabula Rasa has sparked some interesting commenting. JR blogged his response here with some introspection, so I'm following suit.

First off, thanks to Lindsey for not flamethrowing us. Naturally, I don't picture her owning a flamethrower, but it's still nice not to be singed from several hundred yards away or whatever the reach on those things is.

Side note: Dictionary.com defines "flamethrower" as "n : a weapon that squirts ignited fuel for several yards." I would have gone with "shoots" or "propels" - "squirts" is such an odd word choice.

Let's see if I can suss out my own thoughts in a coherent fashion. This should be fun and dangerous.

Do I hold women to a higher standard than men? That's a tough one, because I am a woman, and I hold myself to a pretty high standard. However, I don't hold all women to the same standard I hold myself to. Do I think they should hold themselves to that standard? Yes, but that's their choice, not mine. Should men hold themselves to high standards? Yes, but some don't. Again, their decision.

So why was I so bothered by these women? Because their actions were so reckless that they could have endangered their lives or the lives of their friends. I understand being young and having a good time, but there's a line somewhere, and they didn't know they were safe. I knew they were safe - I knew the guys they were with, and I knew they wouldn't do anything to them no matter how drunk and naked they got.

But THEY didn't know that. They didn't have respect for themselves, and that makes me sad and livid, because somewhere along the way, they were taught that - some magazine or some jackass boyfriend or some uncaring parent figure taught them that self respect is worthless.

As far as the drunk thing goes, I don't accept drunk as an excuse. It's an explanation at best. Drunk people can be annoying as hell, and, as Lindsey pointed out, all people do have equal capacity to be annoying. I guess it's just a different kind of annoying, and I'm more annoyed by what these girls were doing than, say, burning stuff. Although I've been pissed off by drunk guys plenty of times. Maybe I should just hang out with different people...

I was watching CSI today with my roommate, and there was an episode about some Buddhist monks. There was some discussion about chakras, which reminded me of a time I took a test about my chakras. My second chakra was my most open chakra (my sex chakra), and my fourth chakra was my most closed chakra (my heart chakra). Fancy that. This was a few years ago. Just for the hell of it, I took it again. My fifth chakra is my most open one now. It represents honesty, truth, integrity, and higher wisdom. I'm going to say that I've developed into a better person. Good for me.

Want to freak out your cat? Let her watch your snake swallow a rat whole. She didn't really know what to make of that.