Twin Meh

I finally finished watching Twin Peaks. And now I know why people told me to stop watching after the main mystery was solved.

The show was absolutely brilliant and there were times when I was completely entranced with what I saw on screen. The writing was amazing, the storylines were exceptional, and the acting was just fantastic.

(Have I used enough positive adjectives, or what?)

The series begins with the murder of the town sweetheart, high school senior Laura Palmer, (basically the main draw and the way that the show was marketed) and her killer is not found until sixteen or seventeen episodes in. Apparently, the creators of the show, David Lynch and Mark Frost, weren't sure that they were ever going to reveal Laura's killer, but network brass at ABC eventually forced their hands.

And this was the main problem of the second season. Once Laura's murderer was unveiled, in one of the best final scenes of all of the episodes, I lost interest. I still loved the cast and the acting, but the new mystery (basically a continuation of Laura's murder, but with more twists) was taking too many left turns with far too few rights. I still watched, because I just couldn't quit the show like that, but I can see why people became annoyed with the meandering storytelling when it originally aired. I think that it also has to do with the way the network moved the show around, making it difficult for people to know when to watch - the death knell of so many good shows. Ah, the days before DVR...

The final episode was a fantastic cliffhanger, with several storylines left unsolved and new, captivating questions introduced. Like Veronica Mars (a show that was widely compared to Twin Peaks), the viewer was left hanging and upon cancellation, totally unfulfilled.

The thing is, it's still worth watching. Of course, it also depends on how you deal with weirdness. It definitely gets weird. And some people just don't deal well with weird.

So take it or leave it, but I would at least give the first season a shot. It's only seven or eight episodes, and by the time you get through the first few episodes, I have a feeling you'll be hooked.

Philanthropy

Is it wrong to use the address labels that arrive in a philanthropic mailer, but not donate to the cause?

I'm just asking.

Waste of Money

Not to be crude or anything, but I can think of another way to get the toned arms you desire:

I Woke Up With This in My Head...

...and started singing it in the bathroom while doing my makeup. All of a sudden, I heard Mike join in from his blanket cocoon, and I about died laughing.

You know that you've found your match when you can harmonize the Gummy Bears theme song with no ironic overtones whatsoever.

Question: Am I An Idiot?

In case you were wondering, the answer is "yes."

Yes, I am an idiot, and yes, it is possible to cut yourself with a plastic knife while coring an apple.

The hand of a moron.

I assembled a healthy breakfast this morning: one slice of leftover cheese pizza, an apple with peanut butter, and water. And the mocha from Biggby that I grabbed this morning because it was my free drink!

But you see, because of my extensive dental and orthodental (I just made that up!) work, I have to slice my apples and cut my corn off of the cob (I'm like an eight year old!), just to make sure I don't fuck up my teeth even more than they already are. So that's what I was planning to do with my breakfast apple. Plus, it makes it easier to dip in peanut butter.

My plans were thwarted, however, because for some reason, there were no actual sharp knives in the kitchen at work. So again, as any intelligent, twenty-nine year old woman would do, I grabbed a plastic knife.

The rest is history. But really, coupled with the underwear-taping of a few days ago, I do wonder how I manage to get through most days unscathed. Perhaps my idiocy and ingenuity find some sort of balance.

Soy Sad :(

I eat healthy foods, but I'm not a health freak. I love fruits and vegetables and even though I'm slowly winning the battle, I try to drink more water than Coke. I would eat edamame every day if I could, but I hate the texture of tofu.

And when it really comes down to it, I can think of nothing better than a medium-rare steak and a large glass of Merlot.

I saw a great commercial the other day, and it's very well done! I think that it's informative, interesting, and it makes me want to try the product:

[Ah, yes. Here is where I would post the commercial, but the only versions I can find are for viewing in Japan, and therefore only helpful to my dad, who can speak Japanese. And I don't think that he reads my blog much anymore because he thinks that I swear too much.]

Right. So Soyjoy? Isn't so tasty.

The morning after our adventure, I tried the peanut chocolate chip. It was... dry, unyielding, and tasted very little like chocolate. Or peanuts. The consistency was like half-dried play-doh, which might have worked if it had any redeeming tastes.

So I have yet to try the strawberry, because I love strawberry, and I hate being disappointed. But if the main ingredients are strawberries and soy, why should I eat it? I have strawberries and edamame at home! I could have a lovely salad with vinaigrette or something.

Or I could mash them together in a log and sell it for $1.39.

Nice try, Soyjoy. And great marketing, really. But you taste like play-doh. I'll have a Twix instead.

Afraid of Heights at the Exact Wrong Time

So I had an awesome job interview the other day, but that's not what I want to talk about. Let's talk about how I was wearing a gorgeous black wool crepe dress, adorable heels, and a beautiful bracelet. I carried my sweet new purse and a nice folio for notes. Everything was perfect.

Except that my underwear would NOT STAY UP.

I decided to walk from the medical campus to my interview on central campus. It's not a long walk, and I was planning on dropping in at my old museum before the interview to see my former boss. Thank God I did, because by the time I walked that half mile, my underwear had shimmied past my butt and were heading for my knees.

So I did what any logical, rational, twenty-nine year old woman would: I taped them to my hips.

It worked. It worked so well that I forgot that I had used tape at all until hours later when I was getting ready for bed. Clearly I don't drink enough water as I didn't have to use the restroom until a full EIGHT HOURS after the interview.

Either way, office supplies save lives. Remember the trouser stapling incident?

I'll keep you posted on the job. Fingers crossed!

If You Give a Heather a Cookie...

My Aunt Sally and I are quite alike. Not only am I named after her (my middle name), we like the same books, appreciate similar things, and bond in our spirituality. And we both like to eat uncooked cake batter. So there's that. Talking to her the other day, I realized how alike we really are, and it helped explain some of my... eccentricities.

She was telling me how she had gone into the bathroom to brush her hair and subsequently found herself cleaning out the vanity drawers. She came across a pair of misplaced scissors, and as she returned them to the kitchen, she started washing a few dishes. Before she knew it, half of the house was clean/ransacked and she gave up and started watching tv.

She called this, "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie Syndrome," which is pretty much the best description ever.

If You Give a Mouse a Cookie is a children's book, published in 1985 - a book we owned and loved (but don't get me started on Poor Teddy, because I will probably start crying. Ah, another thing I get from my aunt!). The narrator explains that if you give a mouse a cookie, he's going to want a glass of milk. If you get him a glass of milk, he's going to want a straw. This goes on and on and on and it's basically the story of my life.

And now I know that it's in my genes, which makes me feel a little better.

You Can Find Anything on the Internet: Example One

I don't remember how I heard about the site, but when I received two Supernatural Season Four dvds this Friday, I saved the flaps waiting for the perfect time to try out my most recent internet discovery: Netflix Origami.

So today, I made an origami box out of the excess Netflix mailer flap. It took me like, an hour.

I'm not saying that I'm stupid, but sweet Jesus! Origami is hard! It doesn't help that my medium of choice was mandated by the internet.

There are instruction sets for many different shapes and animals. I liked the frog and the "crabby crustacean," but I was unable to distinguish between the "swan" and "elegant swan," which annoyed me to no end.

I settled on the Origami Paper Box, for no other reason than I thought that it would be easy.

Ha.

I was about this close to crumbling that damn box into oblivion on more than one occasion. I don't know why I couldn't comprehend the final step. I always scored really well on spatial reasoning sections of exams, so the fact that I couldn't wrap my brain around this stupid ass little paper box really pissed me off.

I sure am glad there wasn't an origami section on the GRE, that's for damn sure.

Oh look! A sweet little box for wee things and such!

That will hold practically nothing.
Dammit.

Well, I guess I'll make the frog next. Or the elegant swan. Either way, I'm guessing they'll be smaller than my chapstick. And that they will probably be crushed to death by my hands. My hands of death. Death hands!

I Drove Ten Miles West to Get These Pictures

But I didn't notice the damn power lines until a few hours later.



I honestly don't know what possessed me to drive completely out of my way in order to get a few snapshots of a dying sunset, but I did.

You're welcome.

Yet Another Reason That Sunset Pisses Me Off

No. You are in your FORTIES. You are an adult. Albeit, you are an adult with frosted hair and enormous breast implants (and wearing the clothes you wore before the enhancement, so you can imagine how appropriate that is), but that does not give you an excuse to use text-speak in a note to your boss.

No, I don't care that it's on a post-it. Is it REALLY that difficult to add two letters?

God.

A Triumphant Return!

I moved to DC on August 20, 2002. I returned to Michigan on November 25, 2007. I haven't returned. Until now. DUN DUN DUN...

Anyway, I'm leaving on a jet plane in a few short hours and returning for a little wham, bam, thank you ma'am kind of visit.

If you're going to be around, meet up with us at Ella's tonight. I am going there directly from the airport, and I get into DCA at 5 pm.

They have good sangria.

I'm also planning on hitting up Eastern Market on Saturday morning, so let me know if you want to meet me there.

I Do Love Pineapple Pizza, Though, So Maybe I'm Weird, Too

I love working at the Medical School. Compared to working elsewhere at the University, it's like a completely different world. There is always free food, which, if you know me at all, is my Achilles heel. The other day? Free Panera. Last week? Free Cosi. There was even a pizza party to celebrate the beginning of the Stanley Cup playoffs back in May.

There was an ice cream social last month, and there always seems to be a birthday each week.

But today? Broccoli pizza. Um... huh? Really? You order pizza from Pizza House, one of the better pizza places in this town, and you get broccoli? It looks bizarre and crusty. And what is that? Spinach?

...

Okay, I just had some broccoli pizza. It was good! And it didn't have cheese! I mean, I probably wouldn't order it myself, but perhaps I really do need to stop mocking things that I don't understand.

(No, that wouldn't be any fun! Nevermind. I'll work on my karma elsewhere.)

Zelda is Killing My Soul

For reasons I cannot explain, Mike is currently obsessed with Nintendo. Awesome, old school, blast-from-our-childhoods Nintendo. Mostly, he was concerned with beating The Legend of Zelda, of which I recently played for the first time and with which I have a love-hate relationship.

But as we are the coolest couple in the history of the universe, we bought some games on eBay and then played Nintendo off and on all weekend. It was a blast, except when I was being all super-competitive. Which, when playing Nintendo or any sort of game, is always.

Actual conversations we had while playing Contra:

Heather: "So you actually have to kill the wall of spikes?"
Mike: "Yes. It's very realistic."

Mike acquired the spread gun.
Heather: "Happiness is a spread gun."
Mike: "I don't get it."

After I died, even with thirty lives to start:
Heather: "I... am not good."
Mike: "Sweetie... yeah, you suck."

Actual conversations while playing Bubble Bobble, one of my favorite childhood games:

Heather: "You keep stealing all of the fruit and prizes!"
Mike: "We're a dinosaur TEAM. Relax."
Heather: "Hrmph."
Mike then takes all of the fruit and prizes.
Heather: "DAMMIT!"

Actual conversations while playing Jeopardy:

Mike: "This is worse than watching it on TV."
Heather: "No, it's not. It's awesome."
Heather answers a question incorrectly.
Heather: "Fuck this game!"

Mike: "Alex Trebek is the worst!"
Heather: "Not as bad as Ken Jennings."

While playing Tombs and Treasure:
Heather: "I'm... a little scared right now."
Mike: "Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz..."

Actual conversation as I played Zelda while Mike coached me:

Mike: "Honey, you have to turn in their direction, then use your sword."
Heather: "I WAS. THAT'S WHAT I DID."
Mike: "If that was true, then the monster would be dead. Not you."
Heather: "GRRRRR."
Mike: "Do you want me to play?"
Heather: "NO."
Mike: "Sigh."

Weight Off My Back

I carry way too many things in my bag. I'm sure that it wouldn't be a huge problem if I was able to drive to work, pick up my bag from the passenger seat, and enter the building. That probably wouldn't have as much of an impact on my back and shoulders. No, I take the bus, which involves much more walking, waiting, and carrying. And ringworming.

I carry all sorts of things with me. My phone, iPod, chapstick, and keys. My sunglasses, planner, wallet, and camera. A notebook, a regular book (or two), folders, and bus schedule.

I'm sure that losing the books would help tremendously, but I can't even consider that. Being stuck in a boring situation with nothing to read? I don't think so!

But then, there's more! I have a little catch-all bag within my bag. It's not too large, but I manage to cram all sorts of things in:

Brush - for those unkempt moments.
Blister Block - it really works!
Lotion - For lotioning needs.
Antibacterial stuff - for public transportation.
Two chapsticks. Because I can.
FIVE lip glosses? REALLY?
Three different kinds of eye drops.
Cough drops and lozenges. For fun.
Mini container for pills of all kinds. Need drugs? I've got 'em!
Several off-camera items for lady-parts needs.

Obviously, these little drugstore finds don't add up to much in the weight department, but I do need y'all to recognize my insanity. Five lip glosses? I don't even know how that happened.

An Apothecary Table From the Days of Yore

She's cute, right? I picked her up at a garage sale, and I love her. She belonged to a woman in her seventies, and her father made it to serve as her bedside table. Obviously it needs a little love, especially since I am not usually a shabby chic kind of girl, but it seems to work in my ridiculous bathroom.

(Please excuse my camera phone skillz, as I was too lazy to get out the real camera.)

My Three Senses. Er... Five.

I hate getting up for work. I'm going to guess that I am probably not alone in those feelings, but seriously, I HATE getting up. I hate getting out of my comfortable, cozy, warm bed to be startled awake by the evil bathroom light. I've never been one of those girls who could take her shower at night - my hair is much too fine and grease-attracting for that. Besides, the times that I have forgone a shower in the name of getting to work on time, I've felt like complete crap all day.

But on those glorious days when you get to sleep in, be it a weekend, holiday, or "sick day," and you get to take your time waking up and getting out of bed and maybe even grabbing a little something from the fridge, why is it that once you get your dirt-ass in the shower, everything smells different?

At six-fifteen in the morning, I don't really taste the toothpaste. I don't smell my shampoo. I'm so out of it (and blind), I probably wouldn't know if I was using my facial cleanser on my arms or using my shampoo to shave my legs. Later in the day, though? Those scents COME ALIVE.

I swear this to be true. Early in the morning, I don't smell my shampoo. It smells like... clean. But when I shower after I've had time to wake up, it smells nice! Toothpaste, too. I always brush my teeth before I get in the shower, as has been my routine for years, and I just don't taste anything resembling mint. I know that my teeth are clean and fresh, but that's all I know.

Thank you for listening.

The Market Days of Summer

This past weekend was pretty much the last day of summer in my opinion, at least in this town. Starting today, all the damn students began their pilgrimage back to Ann Arbor, disrupting bus routes, crowding eateries, and just plain getting in my way. And now that I am a grizzled 29-year old who was herself moving into the dorms eleven years ago, I am allowed to complain.

Knowing that the apocalypse was upon us, I made it clear to the Lady and Kari that they only had one chance to fulfill their promise to go to the Farmer's Market with me: Saturday.

I also made it clear that we needed to get there as early as possible because not only is everything picked over by noon, it gets so crowded that you can't really breathe. Of course, that could be all of the hippies, but I'm not sure.

So we made plans for them to meet me at my house at eight in the morning, we'd head to the Market and then to breakfast (at the best breakfast place in town!). Because they had a forty minute drive to get here, they were forced to get up and out of bed before me.

The first text I received that morning was from Kari at 7:15, "We're on our way. I hate you." I responded that I was still in my cozy bed, which prompted her to text, "Now I'm not getting you coffee from Biggby." I responded that bed was better than coffee, and she responded that she was going to punch me in the face.

And then it got really vulgar, and we all know that I am not a vulgar person, so here are some pictures of the Farmer's Market (oh, and she still got Biggby coffee for me):

(I bought some raspberries. They were delicious.)