Friday, August 31, 2007
I know that I haven't put up any intense, hardhitting content in awhile (if ever), but I have to link again today. After reading this article, I've never been more intrigued to follow the continuation of a story. I can't believe he split the review into two parts - the suspense is killing me!

Rest assured the only attention I'll be giving to that scumsucking lowlife will be this post, and the time spent reading Slate's review. Other than that, I'll leave it at this: The man is a murderer. Now more than ever, because if for some reason he really didn't kill his ex-wife and her boyfriend, he's just billyclubbed her memory.

What a jerk.

The 457th Reason Why I Want to Have Kids
Thursday, August 30, 2007

Where Do People Come Up With This Stuff?
Why do I get the feeling that THIS is surprisingly entertaining to play?

I Got the Music in Me
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
I am not a morning person. I require at least two hours waking time and one very large Diet Coke before I'm able to honestly say all my synapses are operational and firing.

This morning, I realized my morning commute music is just as important. My shuffle function dealt out the best playlist ever. I seriously almost busted out dancing on the Red Line.

Jamie's Mega-Morning Mix
"Stronger" - Kanye West
"You Can't Stop the Beat" - Hairspray Soundtrack
"With Love" - Hilary Duff (don't laugh - it's not a bad song)
"Sinnerman" - Nina Simone
"Save the Last Dance for Me" - Michael Buble
"Wicked Lil' Grrrls" - Esthero
"Here I Am (Kaskade Remix)" - David Morales
"Devil Inside" - INXS
"Ooh" - Scissor Sisters
"Move Your Feet" - Junior Senior
"Ain't Nothing Wrong with That" - Robert Randolph & The Family Band

Seriously - all in a row. It was like my iPod was on speed. AWESOME.

Hickory Dickory Doc
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Yesterday, my birthday gift Clocky arrived.

So I did what any normal adult would do. I immediately put everything aside (including dinner) and opened the box, only to find out that my "white" Clocky is, in fact, a bizarrely uneven shade of almond. Before you go accusing me of timepiece discrimination, bear in mind that most modern design doesn't come in "almond," it comes in "white." So I was a little thrown by that, but whatever. Moving on.

A quick perusal of the instructions later, I realized that I would have to welcome Clocky into my home via an uncomfortable, yet necessary, battery suppository session. It included teeny screwdrivers and undoing Clocky's butt. Sorry, Clocky. It also called for 4 AAA batteries, which MIRACLE OF MIRACLES I actually had in the house. Well, if you want to get technical, I had the batteries in the fridge.

What? You don't keep your batteries in the refrigerator? That's not what the butter-slash-leftoverfastfoodcondimentpackages-slash-battery area is for? (In truth, I know the fridge doesn't do anything to extend battery life, but I'm a creature of habit, and I don't have a junk drawer, so you organized people out there can just stuff it)

A mere ten minutes later, I had tested the alarm noise but not the rolling motion. I felt I probably wouldn't be able to handle both at once, thus the effectiveness of Clocky's design. I would candidly describe the alarm as "R2-D2 on crack." It doesn't really beep so much, it mostly just makes this GODAWFUL noise like someone is strangling an adolescent robot beneath your bed. Or something. The noise alone was enough to make the dog very curious. To wit:

Then I tested out the rolling PLUS the alarm. Turns out Clocky is fairly capable of traveling away from his jumping off point. On his inaugural journey, he made it about 10 feet. He also spent some of that travel time furiously spinning in circles, much like the hyperactive pomeranian owned by Sean's former landlord. Doc was less than thrilled to find out that Clocky is both loud AND ambulatory. He did what any dog might do - he attacked Clocky.

Once I stopped laughing long enough to rescue Clocky, I put him next to the bed. I'll have to set him somewhere else each night, as his vertical limits max out at 3 feet. But until tomorrow, when he officially becomes my only alarm clock, he looks comfy resting on the windowsill/nightstand next to my bed.

Welcome home, Clocky.

Tsk Tsk
Friday, August 24, 2007
This is absolutely infuriating.

(shakes head)

Thursday, August 23, 2007
I can't stop reading this article from Esquire Magazine Online. Such an interesting idea!

Male readers - does Esquire do a piece like this in print each month? If so, I may have to subscribe. Hmm.

Up & At 'Em
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
The uncommonly good birthday gift has been ordered! As of next week, I will be the proud new owner of Clocky! I've been reading all the buzz about this little annoyance-becomes-useful alarm clock, and the gift certificate was the perfect opportunity to try it out.

Also, I have annoying neighbors who throw off my sleep patterns. Also, I'm really really REALLY RIDCULOUSLY bad at waking up in the morning. We'll see if Clocky is man enough to handle my very strongly ingrained snoozing habits.

Thanks, Jen, Kate, and Kate, for the great gift!

Open Letter to My New Neighbors
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Well, hello neighbors! I was wondering when someone would buy that unit - did you know that I'm one of only two units on the entire floor with whom you share a common wall? Yes, yup. That's me, the little redhead. And that wall is roughly 26 feet long. So I met your mother the day she closed on your condo - she's a lovely woman. Very calm. She mentioned her college-aged daughters would be living there, and said that you were both just wonderful young ladies and that I would have nothing to worry about.

But you're in college, and I get that. I remember what being in college was like. I remember loud, raucous parties. I remember the seemingly endless supply of pineapple and malibu - or perhaps you're into the everclear and kool aid, whatever. It's cool - weekends are weekends. I was young and crazy once, too.

You what I didn't do, though? I didn't throw parties on Wednesday nights, and let my friends hang out on the roof outside my neighbor's windows. Yup, me again - I'm that neighbor. Hello! Remember me? Here's a visual in case you were wondering what your friends might have seen if they peered into my windows.

I also didn't power up the ol' karaoke machine at 1:30 am on a Monday morning, only to sing one incredibly loud, slightly offkey solo, then stop again.

Could you maybe pick another song? Say, perhaps one your vocal range will actually accomodate? For me, pretty please?

Okay, well maybe not. It's cool, though. I'll still band together with the other people on the floor to call the cops regularly, knock down your door in my pajamas to ask you politely to SHUT THE HELL UP IT'S TWO A.M. ON A DAMN THURSDAY, and report your nocturnal comings and goings (and those of your 50-odd friends) to the building management office.

You know what, just forget about it. And don't you EVER dare to ask me for a cup of sugar, or a phone call if you're locked out. You can sit in that hallway until you rot for all I care. I officially hate you.

Your Neighbor Jamie

Weekend Wrap-Up
Monday, August 20, 2007
Well the official slew of birthday celebrations are over, and it's back to life as usual here in the world of Jamie. I received some great gifts - gift certificates to Target, Uncommon Goods, and some unexpected $$$ from my parents. Sean took me out to dinner at Carnivale (which, um, oh my GOD, YUM), and gave me a really beautiful pair of earrings which I love and may not be taking off for awhile. You see, I have this unfortunate tendency to lose one earring from a pair. Which means that any valuable pair I receive either have to be worn (a) constantly, or (b) not at all.

Let's see, what else...I made chocolate pound cake (meh), and worked on perfecting my meatloaf abilities (still can't figure out the proper egg to breadcrumb ratio). It tastes amazing, but falls apart! What am I doing wrong?! I drank too many beers, had a quiet birthday dinner with my best friends at Dine, and managed to miss the throngs of people in town for the Air & Water Show. I also went to brunch with family at South Water Kitchen, where I was presented with a mini carrot cake (complete with candle). Fortunately, there was no singing involved, which I cannot stand.

Thanks to everyone that made this weekend so special! If you want to check in on me, I'll be in food and alcohol detox until approximately mid-September. Peace out.

A Tail of Murder & Woe
Friday, August 17, 2007
I've always wondered how dog owners can purchase so many toys for their pets - spend all that money, and for what? Then it occurred to me that perhaps other dogs actually PLAY with their toys. My dog just eats them. There is no such thing as a toy basket in our house, because there are only 3 toys in the world that last more than 15 minutes. Those toys are his red kong, the rope toy (actually this is his 6th rope toy - he chews through them eventually), and the teething ring.

I received a tchotchke at work earlier this week, and someone suggested that I take it home for the dog to enjoy. This seemed like an innocent enough idea, because I am certainly NOT the type to have crap lying around my cube - I'm not into corporate clutter - I'd rather have an empty, clean work surface.

So I took the toy home - a stuffed Snoopy doll. Poor thing. Exactly 10 minutes after I gave it to Doc, it appeared that our dear Snoopy had passed on to the next life. Witness the carnage:

Just look at that - entrails everywhere. I caught the dog redhanded, and in the midst of his sordid, cannibalistic deeds. Snoopy was laid to rest that very same night, in a dumpster in the South Loop. In memoriam, please send donations to your local pet rescue organization.

As for Doc, I think we'll stick with plastic for now. For more photos of the murderous chaos, click on my Flickr and find the set entitled "The Death of Snoopy."


Champagne Wishes & Caviar Dreams
Thursday, August 16, 2007
It's my birthday, did you know that? I keep trying to craft a concise blog post (unsuccessfully, I might add) that indicates my personal confusion about birthdays in general. On one hand, it's just another day and who cares? I still have to pick up the dog's poop and brush my teeth. On the other hand, why didn't anyone send me flowers? Doesn't anyone care that it's my birthday?!

See? I'm a contradictory person. There's just no denying it.

I'm just happy I didn't get a call this morning from my mother, at 6:45 am SHARP. She did that once, you know. I was born at 6:45 am, three full days before my due date. And it was perhaps the last time I was early. For anything. Ever again.

Well Said
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Excellent point there, Bossy.

I must admit, the woman has a way of getting her point across. In this instance, I happen to agree with her completely.

List of things that have kept me from blogging a lot recently
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
1. Recent increase in the price of my monthly parking from "irritating but manageable" to "completely and infuriatingly outrageous."

2. My inability to focus on type/writing/letters of any kind after about 7pm. Those new glasses cannot come fast enough.

3. A newfound obsession with moving to a bigger, more affordable condo in the suburbs. I fully realize this is ridiculous (especially give the market right now), and it won't happen (much like that second dog I'm obsessing about getting), but it's still on my mind, so there you have it.

4. Mulling over DIY hardwood floors from IKEA.

5. My upcoming birthday.

6. Sean coming home from India in 1.5 days. I freak out a little about international travel, usually for no good reason. Someone could just as easily die in an airplane crash between Boise and Chicago, but he's on the OTHER HALF OF THE DAMN WORLD. He might as well be re-entering the atmosphere from an extended stay in outer space.

7. Distracted by this youtube clip. As if I needed ANOTHER reason to hate Jeff Gordon.

8. My desire to perfect my recipes for chocolate pound cake, meatloaf, bread and lasagna. These are things I imagine Martha Stewart would want all young women to know how to make.

9. Finale week of So You Think You Can Dance.

10. Trying to decide whether or not I want to join WW again. They're opening up a meeting for employees of our company, and the meeting would be held in our building, but do I want to step on a scale in the presence of my colleagues? Hmm.

11. Quicken for Mac. Not as easy as you might think. DAMMIT.

Red Rover, Red Rover
Monday, August 13, 2007
...can you please take Bush with you? Oh, wait. That doesn't rhyme.

I don't pretend to be interested in politics. I vote by platform, not party. I hope for the best, I exercise my right to vote, and I try to remain optimistic in spite of our current leader who has repeatedly proven himself to be incapable of the job he was given. I believe the future leader of our country will be better than the last, and I think it should always be that way.

That being said, I know an idiot jerkface when I see one.

Good riddance, Karl Rove.

Weekend Observation
Sunday, August 12, 2007
If I hear that damn song by the Plain White T's one more time, heads will roll.

Getting Older: Part 5 of 11,548
Thursday, August 09, 2007
One of the things I dread in life is going to the eye doctor. I haven't done it since high school, and let's just say...it shows. My glasses (which I use only for reading and extensive computer work) are embarassingly unstylish, and even worse, they're no longer doing their job. I still go to bed some days with blurry vision, because my eyes are so fatigued, they no longer operate. Bastards.

So I did the responsible thing, and made myself an appointment for this afternoon. I somehow made it through the paperwork at the beginning - the scariest part of the appointment, in my opinion. Even scarier than that damn puff of air. History of glaucoma? CHECK. Any family history of blindness? CHECK CHECK. Any cataracts in the family? CHECK CHECK CHECK. I literally ran out of room in which to write, and that's only my mother's side! Also, why is the typeset on those medical forms so incredibly tiny? I'm here because I CAN'T SEE, MORONS. What if my eyes stop focusing while I'm writing about the details on my genetic predisposition to ocular failure?! WHAT IF MY DOCTOR NEEDS TO KNOW MORE?! For all I know, I could go blind tomorrow. It's a crapshoot, really.

Which is why I allowed myself to be badgered into choosing new glasses while my eyes were fully dilated - here is a pic I took with my iPhoto Booth when I got home. This is two hours into a dilation that is still wearing off:

There will be no discussion of the unruly, caterpillar eyebrows, or the blotchy, PMS skin. I know. I need a wax and a facial - I get it. Moving along...

The worst part of it all? I still don't know what my glasses really look like, unless you count putting the dummy frames on and staring into a mirror that was so magnified I almost drowned in my own pores. Yes. No one can tell what a pair of glasses looks like when the blob of a face staring back at them is so fuzzy, it might not even have a nose and ears. Whatever.

I'm going to risk being unabashedly narcissistic about this, as my new eye doctor has informed me that I need to wear my glasses more often. Which means I should care about how they look on my face. So OF COURSE, I took the advice of the wildly unstylish op-tech (think unkempt, frizzy hair with white cardigan and teal colored ruffle dress) and the optic services tech, who was wearing pink frosted lipstick AND eyeshadow). I had no other choice.

I think this is closest to the pair I chose - let me know what you think.
I'll post a picture when I get them. Assuming they're somewhat flattering, of course. Otherwise, you'll just have to use your imagination.

My Mouth is Watering, and Not in a Good Way
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Oh, MAN. I wish I'd found this clip on Monday, when I really needed it. If you need a hearty laugh, or a smile, just watch this.

Evening Update
Monday, August 06, 2007
As always, the even simmer of today's anger has settled into a manageable level of fuzz - emotional white noise, if you will. Everything should be back to normal by tomorrow morning, or at least that is what I'm shooting for.

Also, I discovered this blog and spent a good half-hour laughing my ass off and printing out recipes. Not fun for everyone, but definitely lifted my spirits. Thank you, Pioneer Woman!

Livid, IL : Population (1)
Sometimes? Sometimes I am my own worst enemy.

Today has been a challenging day. Got to work late, company main database is kaput. All systems down, literally. This leaves me with almost zero work to do. You'd think this would be a positive, but today is just one of those days where one positive thing isn't enough to keep my mind floating amongst the rolling waves of negativity. What's that you say? Overly dramatic? Me? Naaahhh.

Really, though, I'm not exaggerating. I have been furious all day, for very few reasons. Most notably, my trip out for lunch (which was quite late in the day, whoops). Sometimes I just forget about the whole midday meal concept, until I'm reminded by a wicked case of stomach thunder wrapped in the swaddling clothes of cranky lightheadedness.

I went 2 blocks to Corner Bakery (in which time my hair had a grand mal seizure and absorbed approximately 8.5 pounds of airborne moisture, puffing up to dimensions yet to be researched by modern man) and got in line. 15 minutes (!) later, I walked up to a register, and was informed that the credit/debit card machines were down. 5 minute (and one stern discussion with the store manager) later, I went to Chipotle for a chicken-burrito-bol-no-rice-black-beans-mild-salsa-cheese-that's-all-thank-you. By the time I got back to the office and opened the bag, I realized I was carrying a black bean bomb. Obviously the Chipotle employee packaging up the to-go orders was too busy carrying on a conversation with the tortilla warming guy (he was cute) to actually AFFIX the top on my burrito bol.

Suddenly, I was furious. Teeth-grinding, red-faced, seethingly furious. All it took was a trip for lunch that SHOULD have taken 15 minutes maximum - yet I endured a whopping 45, thanks in part to slow-ass tourists and oblivious stroller drivers.

The worst part of all? I got angry at myself for being so upset. Why do I always take myself so seriously? Who are these sick and twisted people who have enough balance in their lives to shirk off events like my lunch field trip? I cannot dismiss irritation like that with a shrug and a giggle. Instead, I fester and boil. It's unnecessary, and probably quite unhealthy, and yet I do it. Repeatedly.

I should be able to put my hair into a ponytail, eat my damn lunch, and just shut up. I should be able to be grateful for my food, and my fortune, and my health. But when I step around the fifteenth geriatric tour bus participant, I sort of lose sight of that. And by "lose sight," I mean "go completely blind."

Okay, these parentheticals and incomplete metaphors need to end. I'm so angry and frustrated that I'm not even making sense. This is ridiculous. I'll probably just delete this entry in a few hours. Aaargh.

Somebody please enlighten me with some strategies on how to CALM THE MOTHERLOVING HELL DOWN, ALREADY.

Lordy Lordy
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Well, it seems that Jim Bob Duggar just can't keep it in his pants.

The saddest thing about all of it? My second thought upon hearing the news (obviously my first thought was, "oh my God, NO.") was about how complicated it must be to file their annual taxes. Yikes.

Here is an amusing article that pretty much expresses my thoughts, judgmental as they may be.

Oh, Lacey, No
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Those of you that don't watch So You Think You Can Dance can navigate to another page right now. Those of you that DO watch are about to get an earful.

Here's the thing: I know Mia Michaels is just unreal. She is brilliant, organic, and all those things that traditional choreographers would laugh off - she's wacky, she has a mullet, she pushes every boundary that she encounters. I hate modern/contemporary dance, and I love her.

So am I the only one that cried their way through her white contemporary routine tonight, and was SHOCKED to see Lacey snap out of character, and shove the last blue flower into her mouth?! SNAP! It was as if this beautiful tribute to Mia's father was all a shallow act for her, and suddenly when Cat began announcing her call-in numbers, she shoved the blue gerber daisy that Neil had tossed to her in the waning moments of the routine in. her. mouth. Then spit it out.

I hate to sound like a Bratz character, but that is SO not cool. Oh, Lacety-Lace. Lace face. Really, what were you thinking?! If I was an aspiring dancer, and had been lucky enough to work with Mia on a routine that was so incredibly personal, I would have kept that damn flower for the rest of my life -- if only for what it symbolizes. And I'm NOT a sappy girl, I don't keep a lot of souvenirs.

I'm just so disappointed. It sort of ruined the routine altogether for me. What a letdown.