Wringing out my brain

Today my brain is in a foggy soggy state, which I attribute to waking up an hour and a half earlier than normal. (Oh 7:30 a.m. physical therapy appointment, you are no friend of mine.) There are a few things I want to discuss today, so let's see if I can get through the haze.

My boss is taking next week off to bike from Pittsburgh to D.C. First, let me just say how much I respect this athletic endeavor she is embarking upon. Now, let me say how COMPLETELY HORRIBLE this trip sounds to me. I get winded after about 4 seconds on my bike in this hilly terrain that we call Appalachia--so I can't imagine something more exhausting than 300 plus miles on an uncomfortable seat that makes my butt hurt for days. (Seriously, can't they come up with a better design for the bicycle seat by now? Aren't we supposed to be zipping around in our flying cars already?)

She has put me in charge of managing the content of our official weekly (biweekly in the summer) publication while she's on "vacation." I'll admit I was a bit surprised she picked me... but I am excited for the extra responsibility.

Yesterday was her last day at work for a while, so I wished her well. This went a little better than the last time she left town...

Scene: Amanda's boss, whose mother has been very sick for some time, is frantically preparing to leave the office for an indefinite period of time. She has just received an alarming phone call about her mother's quickly deteriorating health. Near tears, Amanda's boss quickly gathers her things and notifies the department of her departure.

Amanda: BYE! HAVE A GOOD TRIP!
Boss: Um, thanks...
Amanda, silently: Oh... crap!

Well, I told you I was awkward. I wish I would think about things a little harder before I let the words tumble out haphazardly.


The next order of business: I am going to update my blogroll to include all my new bloggy friends on 20SB. I just need some advice on the organization of it. Can some of you more experienced peeps speak up and tell me if you have any method to your madness? Should there be categories? Alphabetical order? The Dewey Decimal System? Help!


And finally, I am going to start working on my "100 things" list that I've been seeing around blogland. I especially loved Jennifer's list on You are flawed if you are not free. I think we will inevitably have some list items in common--as I cannot make a list about myself without mentioning lolcats, duh. I also love her idea of listing my first CD... and while mine wasn't Michael Bolton, I totally respect that it was hers. My mom made me a big fan of MB at an early age. I love him... even if he is a "no talent ass-clown."

When my tongue betrays me

Sometimes when I speak, the words get all mushed up in my mouth and come out in some strange order I hadn't intended. This embarrasses me sometimes. Luckily, I don't take myself too seriously and can often laugh about it, or more commonly, pretend what I said makes perfect sense...

Scene 1. Amanda is ordering Sunday brunch at a French-inspired crepe cafe with boyfriend.

Amanda: "Hi. I'll have a glass of small orange juice."
Boyfriend: "Is that made with tiny oranges? Like kumquat-sized?"


Scene 2. Amanda is talking to her friend on the phone about a coworker who is recovering in the hospital.

Amanda: "She's doing really great. Like 10 times a million better."


I also sometimes lose my train of thought when leaving voice messages at work...


Scene 3. Amanda just dialed a number to reach a respected professional at her place of employment. The call goes to voice mail. Amanda, busy contemplating whether she should call the professional by her first name or Doctor Last Name, is taken by surprise at the sound of the beep.

Amanda: Um... Oh... Hi! FIRST NAME! LAST NAME!

Sheesh. I am so awkward.

Million Blog List

I'm number 1744 on the Million Blog List.

An introduction to my crazy dreams

Not everyone remembers their dreams. I have been blessed/cursed with a very vivid memory of mine, however. Luckily, I don't have many typical nightmares. Though, I do have some very bad dreams. Very bad.

For instance, I'm on my own for dinner tonight because boyfriend is going to the Penguins/Red Wings game with a friend. As with any evening he isn't around to cook dinner for me, I heat up a frozen French bread in oven and call it a night. (It's called being lazy.)

However, tonight I am not just having any pizza for dinner. I am having the new pesto pizza from Trader Joe's! I've been salivating over it for days. Tonight, it will be mine.

So what does this have to do with my bad dreams? I will tell you! Last night, I had a dream that my sister came over and ATE MY PIZZA! Oh, the horror! I laid some smack down on her, you better believe.

I woke up and told boyfriend very sternly that he was not to touch the pizza. Thank goodness my sister won't be raiding our fridge any time soon.

12 Steps

I think every young woman goes through a stage where she is extremely hung up on someone who is completely wrong for her. Whether he* breaks her heart one too many times or just doesn't treat her like the gem she truly is, for some reason she is unable to see this. She pines for him. She cries for him. And then one day, she meets the man who is everything she has ever dreamed of and so much more. The man who gives her pink unicorn piñatas and writes her love songs about being a panda from the sea. The man who makes her laugh so hard, she shoots hot chocolate out her nose on their first real date. The man who makes her forget about all former heart aches. The best thing to ever happen to her... her soul mate.

Today I am looking through old e-mails from when boyfriend and I began dating. He waited for me when I was hung up on someone else and when I said I wasn't ready for a serious relationship. He waited and waited... and then one day... I came to my senses. I count my blessings every day that he stuck around! Below is an excerpt from one of his many hilarious and wonderfully adorable e-mails:

12/21/06

...Railing tequila shots with my parents and watching fireworks by the ocean, pretty spectacular stuff. Plus we saw this really weird animal down there that I became obsessed with. It's sort of like a groundhog with a weirder tail and stripes I think, but it can jump 7 feet straight up in the air, which, just admit it, is (expletive) terrifying. We called it the dik-dik, after another weird animal I saw in a zoo somewhere one time, but the Mexican thing was actually an agouti. Anyway, I'm rambling now. You know why? Because I miss you. And I have a huge little crush on you. 2007 is the year we take over the city, Ryan and I have already decided. Pittsburgh is ripe for a brat pack type of 20 somethings to knock the city on its ass, and really show it a good time. That sounded more aggressive than I meant it to, and I'm sorry. I'm going through the 12 stages of Amanda withdrawal.

The first one was denial, when I thought I could totally deal with it. (wrong) The second stage is having to pee all the time, for some reason, and I had that last night. Although it could have been from the drinking. The third stage, and the one I'm suffering through now is when you wear two unmatched socks to work and feel like a jerk because your mind is too consumed by Amanda-ish thoughts to process whether or not the socks you're holding even match. The fourth stage, which I'll probably hit later tonight, is pretty serious, and that's talking about the things you like about Amanda when she's not even around. Like, telling total strangers. Lunacy, right? The fifth stage, I don't even want to talk about. It's lice. You literally get lice, from out of nowhere. Spontaneous lice. Terrible, I know. And then the sixth stage is equally offensive, but you're halfway home so it's almost easier to deal with. The sixth stage is voting Republican, which fortunately due to the timing, isn't something I need to worry about right now. If this had happened last month though, shit. I don't know if many people have survived the seventh stage because it's really, really hard to deal with. YOU LOSE YOUR SENSE OF TASTE! Okay? Well you don't lose it so much as it gets horribly transformed, so that everything you eat tastes bad and weird. So a few days from now, when I get to this stage and I want to eat Mom's delicious Christmas dinner, it will taste like old newspaper and fleas. I hate that. It's just gross. Stage eight makes it dangerous to drive, because you have to wear sunglasses all the time, even at night. I don't know why, it's just the way it is. Probably so no one can see you crying like a baby. The ninth stage is weird, and probably something you can relate to. Everything smells like maple syrup, all the time. You could stick your snoot right into a delightful spring bouquet of flowers, and instead only smell the blasted syrup. It's nice for like an hour, at breakfast, IF YOU'RE EATING PANCAKES. But it makes the rest of the day unbearable, so horrible that it almost makes you long for the tenth stage, WHICH KILLS YOU! You're dead for a week! And then you wake up to stage eleven, where you find out everyone else is dead too, and the world is now ruled by sentient squid! Oh the horror! Squid are telling you what to do! Squid is the boss of you! And they wear little outfits and telepathically tease you about your two stupid arms and your dumb hair. How dreadful. So you suffer in some savage work camp, doing the squids' nefarious bidding for what seems like an eternity until finally, thank Christ, you hit stage twelve. Which is when Amanda comes home, and makes you better feeling.

So that's that. That's how I feel, wish me luck...

Wow! I just love this guy so much! I am so lucky he survived the squid!



*Masculine pronoun used for convenience. Please substitute with feminine pronouns where necessary!