Top 3 most interesting things to throw up:

3. Peanut butter Cap'n Crunch--what can I say, I've never thrown up as much as I did that morning. It was thick.

2. Spaghetti--when it comes back up, it still looks just like spaghetti only in little pieces

1. Swiss chocolate almond coffee and cinnamin rolls--I could actually taste the cinnamin in my nose. And, despite being vomit, the smell wasn't so unpleasant.

The inspiration for this list? My experiences yesterday in the boy's parents' house. Unfortunately, while the boy and fam. were celebrating not only Thanksgiving but the boy's birthday as well, I was stuck upstairs tasting my coffee and rolls for the second time that day. Thankfully, though I was not allowed downstairs while the grandparents were there, the boy came at intervals loaded with cool water, 7Up, and backrubs. He is a good boy. While no longer barfing, my body aches, my head aches, my chest aches, and I didn't sleep at all last night. More later.

As soon as I heard that he wanted a key to "your" office (at this point I wasn't completely sure it was you, Smith), I knew it was you. Wasn't it wonderful how I grabbed his phone, made some unintelligible remark and you said "Sween?" with much confusion. I said no, and when you asked who it was, I replied "[Wily Republican]'s lover." Then you asked what I was doing. I said "loving him" so slyly. Then I found it important to tell you that he had a banana, though by this point I could barely get the words out.

He called me crazy. Yes, yes I am. But now they are gone and I can return to my work in silence. And I'd like to point out that he didn't say goodbye to me. Jerk. (But he does have a nice smile, Smith.)

Email to the Sexsmith (and the rest of the world)

Smithy--
I had orginally started this as an email to you, but then I realized I had to share it with the world: I just thought I'd let you know that I got up early this morning to go to the library and finish up my paper. I figured, who is in the library at 8 in the morning except the particularly studious. It will be quiet, and I will get lots and lots of work done. There will be no stupid people who feel the need to chat, talk about how wasted they got, or let their cell phone ring 80 times so they can listen to the whole clangy, ring tone of "PIMP." But who should walk in shortly after me with a female classmate and sit about 7 feet from me--you guessed it, the Wily Republican. And yes, we exchanged cordial hellos. I did not threaten him or crack any frat boy jokes (although, as he was walking in he was saying something about being stereotyped. I think he has issues and maybe he just shouldn't be in the frat. It's like me joining PETA and then getting angry that everyone thinks I'm an animal lovin' freak. Umm...deal with it). And I've digressed. I can't help myself.

Anyway, so for a while they're doing some actual studying. I am not impressed with the way he translates Spanish law enforcement terms for his giggly partner who, by the way, needs to touch up her dye job. Was that mean? I swear, I have blogger ADD--must focus. So, they put in a good, eh, 10 minutes of studying. Then they proceed with the coffee shop talk for 40 minutes (they're still at it--it could be hours) except that they're not in a coffee shop--they're in the FREAKIN' LIBRARY!! Why can't people respect the sanctity of the library? It is supposed to be a haven for the geek, the studious, the grad student who left her paper till the day before it's due. ACH. Shut up!!

They were just talking about strippers. She relates a lovely story about a friend of hers who is a stripper. He asks if said friend performs "happy endings." And then he laughs. Arg, I know you like him Smith, and I am accepting that people like strange things (sex with goats, ABBA, Saved by the Bell, etc) but do you really find that laugh charming in any way? Now he's on the phone as his study partner looks annoyed. Her chatty time is over. Hmm...the person he is speaking to is sleeping. Could it be you? I will assume yes. He is telling you just how much he got done this morning. This shows one flawed character trait--he is a liar. I am proof. There has been little studying here. Oh, he sounds impressed. I hear a "wow." I imagine you said something witty and oh-so-Smithlike. Oh, study partner is putting her coat on. Are they leaving? yay. See how distracting they are. I shouldn't be blogging. I should be finishing my paper. Oh, study partner said something about sex with yourself (in response to something Wily says on the phone). Now I am convinced it is you. Ha.

Amended proposal

So I was watching The Apprentice last night (while sort of lesson planning, getting free books online, and pretending like I have neither a big stack of commentaries sitting ungraded in my office and a stoopid seminar paper due on Wed) and guess who was the special guest---yup, Mr. Joel. I learned something important while watching the show--yes, I am not as hot as his wife, but he is not nearly as hot as he was say, umm...20 years ago. (I would have been 3, but I've seen pictures). So I am taking back my proposal. But that doesn't mean that I'm not going to attempt to convince the boy to take me to New York so I can see Movin' Out. It's on Broadway. I fear it's expensive.

On a happier note, during a preview for Joan of Arcadia (yes, I watch too much tv) I realized Hot God is coming back on the show. Is it sad to lust after a boy who plays God on tv? Will I go to Hell for screaming "Ooh! Hot God!" while watching said preview? Ahh...Kris Lemche--please look a few blogs down at the proposal to Billy and please place your name in place of his. I'm not sure you can sing, but with an ass like yours, I really don't care.

I just spent 3 hours looking at annotated bibs. They are not good. Is it so difficult to write 100 words about 10 different sources--sources they should have had lined up a week ago? Hey! If I wanted you to turn in only 5 annotations, that's what I would have asked for. Same goes for annotations that are only 30 words. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?! I need a drink. Umm...several drinks. And some Hot God lovin'.

My lips are sore...

No, Smith, it's not because I was perfecting "The Twist." I was whipping something else out--my old saxophone. It's actually really, really old, as in my dad played it when he was in college. Crazy. I can still toot out a mean "Circle of Life" and some random stuff from my Little Mermaid collection. But then I ran out of breath, and my lips got sore, and my throat hurts, and I realized I might as well be a smoker with the sorry way I can't hold my breath anymore and play more than 6 notes before I take a breath. I used to make it through whole songs. oh well.

I haven't heard back from Billy yet, so I can only assume he's working on the dissolution papers and thinking of a perfectly romantic proposal. Maybe something in a trailer park with the tv blaring in the background? Oh, wait, I already had that proposal. I can't wait to tell my kids that story. I would also like to thank Xtina for pointing out that while yes, Billy Joel did marry a woman my age, I am not superhot like her and therefore have no chance. I hate you. But, it's for the better because I realized two things. 1) His initials are BJ and 2) If we ever had a child and I wanted to name it after my brother, the kid's name would be Joel Joel. That's just silly. Ooh, and I thought of another one: 3) Again assuming we had children, for the first many years they would get confused over who was their dad and who was their grandpa--cuz they'd be the same age. Ach. I guess it was just never meant to be. I will stick with trailer park proposer despite committing myself to vacuums and toilet brushes for anniversary presents. The boy did buy me a vacuum for my birthday once. And yes, I did ask for one, but he could have maybe wrapped it up with..oh, roses? jewelry? something that ISN'T a VACUUM!! Ach.

Looking over my previous list of goals I've also realized several things. First of all, I'm really bad at achieving goals. I get distracted with...umm...everything. I've also decided my goals really just need to be more simple--wake up, put on clean underwear, don't kill anyone, pet dog. Those are good goals. I'm pretty sure I can get at least a couple done today. I better start right away.

Letter proposing marriage to Billy Joel

Dear Mr. Joel:
I noticed your recent marriage to a twenty-three year old. Well, perhaps she is twenty-four, maybe even twenty-five. Either way, I'm close enough. I turned twenty-three in August. That puts me right about at half your age. Apparently you do not object to dating women half your age, or marrying them for that matter. While I have never much thought about dating people my father's age, much less marrying them, I would most definitely consider you as a candidate for marriage. Though I am engaged myself, there are no definite future wedding plans. So let's just say I'm open to suggestions, namely, marrying you. You haven't been married that long. Maybe it's still possible to get an annulment?

I want to let you know up front that I would not be marrying you for your money. I would even be willing to sign a pre-nup despite the fact that I am fully against the very idea of them. I'm not even sure I would be marrying you for your looks. No, I would be marrying you so that you could sing to me every day in that glorious Eastern accent of yours. You could test out new song lyrics on me. I would be honest.

Because I grew up in a small suburb in MN, it would be difficult for me to understand your childhood, so we should prolly stay away from that topic. Also, you must refrain from talking about the Carter administration because I wasn't even born yet. In fact, many of your hits were written and produced well before I was produced. But I know them all anyway. In fact, I'm pretty sure I blew out my car speakers the last time I was listening to "Uptown Girl." The other day I made my students journal to "We Didn't Start the Fire." I saw a few of the freshmen tapping their toes. (Ok, that's a lie, but it did take all my restraint not to blask out "JFK blown away!" And yes, I love "Piano Man" but I figure you think it's overdone, so I won't make you sing that to me often.

Oh, know also that I am a Barry Manilow fan. Not a huge one, but there are a few songs that I absolutely adore. I would make you sing these to me. You can change the "Mandy" lyrics to include my name. And at Christmas I whip out the Raffi Xmas album. (Ok, sometimes I listen to it in the middle of July as well.) We could sing along. I would let your voice drown out my off-key attempt at "Must be Santa." You and my dad could have duets. I believe he's a tenor. When you're done you can talk about the day Lennon was shot, how you felt about the Vietnam War, and other such monumental events that, again, happened long before I was around.

Keep in mind that I am no Christie Brinkley. I've also seen pics of the new wife. Again, not nearly as attractive. And as I mentioned before, I am no singer. So what can I offer? A fantastic appreciation for your music, and sometimes I do laundry. Also, I make a hell of a breakfast sandwich. And I really do promise it's not about the money. I'm no Uptown Girl. I'm low maintanence and I like beer. No girly-girly drinks for me.

Think about it,
Casey

Note to self: the one goal I actually finished entirely today. Go me.

Goals for the day

So lately I've reverted back to making goal lists for the week. Generally I get about 60% done. The average is higher if I look at just the stuff I need to do for classes--maybe 80%. Of course, if my lists included anything like: Write a paper that accentuates my skills in the English arena, I would have, umm, a zero percent completion rating. I could play for the Marlins. Never the Yankees (as if I would EVER play for them anyway...even if they begged). Ach, I think I am still a little woozy from the two bottles of fine gherfentiewele (?!) wine that the boy and I took down last night. We were in the middle of Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. I managed to keep my eyes open long enough for a glimpse of Christian Slater. Then, I spent several moments reminiscing about my preteen crush on the man. Particularly in...ach...can't remember film name...where he was the dj in his basement or something. Help me out folks.

Yesterday I picked up my 4 rolls of fillm. I always wanted to be one of those folks who has oodles of pictures to pick up and then spends 20 minutes in the parking lot looking them over. The boy and I weren't quite sure what we would get, and I was afraid it was going to be like the last time--I thought I had the lost rolls of our trip to Mexico, the roll where I was dancing on the bar with the hottie Spanish waiters. No such luck. It was a bunch of pictures of the boy's family christmas--taken about ten years ago, maybe more. I was none too impressed with the tinseled tree, a pile of presents, his sister and a vacuum cleaner. And I had gotten doubles. And it was APS. It ended up being $10 for some really crappy photos. But this time, it was in fact the missing Mexico rolls. The same ones the boy had been accusing me of losing for the last year and a half. And where were these rolls? IN HIS LAPTOP BAG. That's another point for me.

Anyway, back to the whole list thing. What I was getting at was my list for the weekend. I've already fulfilled number 5--getting drunk with a small amount of wine and passing out with thoughts of CS in my head. But there are more. Maybe I can get an 80% completion rate. I don't even try for perfection anymore.

1. Finish book with short stories I am supposed to write paper on
2. Create wonderful draft of paper (ok, maybe half a draft because I'm doubtful I'll get 12-15 pages cranked out this weekend)
3. Read most or all of Brothers Karamazov for Tuesday class
4. Read most...or at least 5 pages...of book for Wed. night class
5. see above
6. Create flawless lesson plans for Wed. when the man is sitting in to observe me. This means no discussion of readings because 1. they don't read and 2. they don't discuss
7. Buy treadmill
8. Hang clothes on treadmill (wait, I mean, run on treadmill)
9. Help the boy finish sheetrocking bathroom, run wiring, put in insulation
10. Clean office
11. Laundry...yes, I have nearly 100 pairs of underwear (I counted last month), but I'm running low. It is definitely time to wash some clothes.

That sounds like a doable list. Except for the first 9. And 11 isn't looking so good either.
P.s. Why am I up? It's 9 o'clock on a Saturday (the regular crowd shuffles in). Ahh, I am in love with Billy Joel. Didn't he just marry a 23 year old? Does that mean I still have a chance? Hmm. Note to self: Add "write marriage proposal letter to Billy Joel" as number 12 on the list. I have about as much chance completing that as I do any of the others.

Who let the dogs out

I'm thinking I might need someone to let my puppy out this weekend. Just once, nothing fancy. He's a good dog. You let him out, he pees on whatever is taller than he is, and he's set for a few hours. However, here is my dilemma: Last time I asked a couple wonderful, lovely friends to do this simple task for me. This is what I found upon returning:

4 post-it notes with the following:

First post-it: Dear Katy: We were snooping in your pantry and frankly we're not surprised to find these items:
1. onions--for hotdish
2. condensed soup--see above
3. canned veggies--very MN

Second post-it:
4. pie filling (which I used to make them a tasty breakfast dessert with only a week later!)
5. gross beer (Grain Belt?? Even my dad likes it, and he knows classy beer)
6. French dressing--goes great on your "just lettuce!" which we thoughtfully left in the fridge
(This is where I want to let you know that the "just lettuce" was for tacos!! What kindof lettuce do you use for tacos? huh? That's what I thought)
7. salt-classic MN condiment (Now, which one of you doesn't have salt? Another point for me!)

Third post-it:
8. ketchup--for making "exotic" dishes like tacos or BBQ (Who the HELL puts ketchup on tacos? That's what I'd like to know)

We wished we'd brought the camera.

Oh yes, and Emerson's moose disturbed us--par. the brown stainage on its crotch. (He's a man with needs, what more can I say?)

Fourth post-it:
and just 'cause I feel like squandering Post-its, I will say: WHAT IT THIS? and THANKS FOR NOT LEAVING OUT YOUR HOMEMADE PORN. That is all, XOXO Xtina and Smith

(Note: The "WHAT IS THIS?" was a photo of Preston and the giant snow penis the boys built in front of the dorms so many years ago. Why we had it sitting out, I couldn't tell ya. As for the homemade porn, it's a darn good thing they didn't look in the other cupboards. HAHAHAHA!!

So, you see my dilemma. I think the dog is just going to have to go with me this weekend.

My life right now...

So Tuesday night I was in a rush to get to school so I could finish up my paper for yes, that night's class. As I got out of the car, I realized I hadn't put any kind of make-up on. Ehn, not a big deal. Then I took a couple steps and realized I have no deodorant on! This was a problem because I could already feel the nastiness that was to ensue during my 3 1/2 hour night class. I checked my purse--normally I have a mini-sized stick in there. No such luck. I checked all three pockets of my backpack, again, because I usually have at least one. Again, I came up empty. How could I have let myself leave with no type of protection against odors and wetness? I am a stinky, stinky girl. I know this! I freely admit this. And yet, no baby freshness for me. I asked around--nobody had any. Of course, because I am the drugstore for my office. What, Cindy needs chapstick? Here ya go. Megan needs tylenol, midol, anti-depressants? Again, I am your woman. But when I need just a little freshin' up, no one can help me. Ach.

Speaking of stinky girls, when I was at Kolhs the other night (I had $10 free! FREE! You can't waste that--like some people) I went to try on a few bargain shirts I found. The entire time I was in there these two girls (high schoolers? freshmen?) were shouting back and forth at each other. "No, don't wear tank tops under your shirt because they make people look fat!" and the like. Then, one of the girls ripped it--twice. And not by accident or thinking it might be silent but was later surprised. Nope, on purpose. Then, she yelled to the other girl "Hey, can you smell that? That's pretty bad." And yes, they did know that there were other people in the dressing room. Ooh, and when I checked out, I had a 15% off coupon, but apparently they had some other deal where you got another 15% off. I only wish I hadn't put away those couple shirts that I knew I couldn't afford.

I am so frickin' tired of reading

I swear I've done nothing but read for the last 2 months of my life--reading for one class, reading for the other, reading my students' papers,etc. Sometimes I switch it up a bit and write a paper about what I've just read. Oh good times. I'm starting to think a Math degree would have been more exciting--think of all the different equations I could be solving right now. Ok, so maybe math is a bad example. What about..erm...art major? I could spend my days making things out of clay, down by the bay, I just may. See, this is what reading does to me. I could make it in the art department. I've done some fabulous work on the backs of coasters.

Did you hear about the guy who killed himself at Ground Zero because he was so upset that Bush was reelected? Hmm.

Why has my head perpetully throbbed for the past two days? Also, when I read there are sometimes little blurry spots on the page. I've been trying to figure out if it is the result of spending 15 hours a day reading or if I really should get my eyes checked out. I've never been to an optomitrist before. I'm afraid of the air-poof test. (Again, since I've never been there, I'm not quite sure what to call that. This is just how it's been described to me.)

Things that sustain me

1. Fudge brownie sundaes from McGoffs when I'm bloated
2. Making naughty pics of what we imagine someone and someone doing sometime (use your imagination)
3. Knowing I have $10 to spend at Kohls (thanks mom)
4. Realizing I only have 9 more classes to teach this semester. That means only 9 classes before Miss-I'm-only-an-undergrad-but-I-am-attempting-to-tell-you-how-busy-I-am leaves my class.
5. Beer
6. The boy--he brought me oranges the other night on his way back from the bar because I was depressed and the only thing in the world that I wanted was an orange. He paid $2 for 2 very over (under?!) ripe oranges. They tasted funny.
6. Emerson--I actually took him on a lengthy walk today. Then he grazed the boy's man parts while retrieving his toy. It made me giggle watching him writhe in pain.
7. Knowing that I plan to spend my entire winter vacation watching girly movies with my mom and reading for PLEASURE! I remember when I liked to read...
8. Midol...there will be no more bloating for me.
9. Sleep and sweatpants. Yes, I realize I've brought up the sweatpants again, but come on, they're fantastic. Let's bring zoobas back. Nothin' bettter than zebra striped neon sweatpants that are socially acceptable. My best friend's dad still wears his. They're thin. Umm..that's all I want to say about that.

Russian composer eh?

You are Dmitri Shostakovich!
Congratulations! You are a shy, nervous, unassuming, fidgety, and stuttery little person who began composing the same year you started music lessons of any sort. You wrote the first of your fifteen symphonies at age 18, and your second opera, "Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District," when you were only 26. Unfortunately, Stalin hated the opera, and put you on the Enemy Of The People List for life. You nevertheless kept composing the works you wanted to write in private; some of your vocal cycles and 15 string quartets mock the Soviet System in notes. And you somehow were NOT killed in the process! And Harry Potter(c) stole your glasses and broke them!

Somehow I don't think this is right. I don't wear glasses.

A final thought

You know, it's been a while since a certain naked lady picture find. Perhaps we can indulge ourselves a bit one of these nights?

My ears are still ringing and I have a feeling it may last awhile

So I just got back from the BEP concert. I do have to say that they are performers. But if you don't like ten minute instrumentals, they're not for you. I was sorely disappointed at the number of undergrads wearing outfits with less material than my last bathing suit. I've also realized that larger women should not wear skin tight white shirts. And that the boy is aroused by disturbingly 80s outfits. She was wearing a neon yellow-green and white striped shirt and a white mini-skirt. Maybe it was the scantily cladness (yeah, I've decided it's a word) of the undergrad, but I'm still freaked out by it. I'm also debated over who had the better drum solo--the BEP guy who was juggling drum sticks while playing or the Blink 182 drummer who played while suspended from the ceiling on a spinning platform. I'm leaning towards the Blink boy. Of course, this was BEFORE he got a mohawk and was still hot. Now he is just a freaky guy with a few too many naked lady tattoos.

Side note: Today on MSN the headline was "How Bush pulled it off." I was disturbed. And not just because of the disturbing sexual images that came to mind. Bush?! Ach, I never pick a winner...although I guess I was in the majority for MN. I'm still trying to get the boy to tell me who he voted for. He finds it amusing that I've never really been sure which way he leans.

Second side note: I threw up yesterday in the bathroom at school. And it was near the end of the day so there's a good chance my face was 3 inches from about 800 butts. The boy said he finds it easier to throw up the closer he puts his face to the toilet. I concured. What it the flu? Was it bad food? I'm going to bet it was stress and the fact that I was overly tired from working on my annotations until 2am. And then a certain Dr. You're-so-stupid-how-did-you-ever-get-into-college-i-can't-believe-you-teach-this-stuff-you-are-lazy-what-do-you-mean-you-didn't-get-the-8-billion-pages-read-that-were-due-today-I-got-it-all-done-because-I-am-a-zombie tells me I'm doing everything wrong. But I feel better now. At least until my "conference" tomorrow. As if I need someone to tell me I'm not getting the bazillion assignments done. No shit. (can I swear in the blog? I don't believe I've tried yet. Hmm...)

Third side note: I have no lesson plans for tomorrow. And I wore sweat pants all day. And ate Jess's almond cookies. Am I bloated? Yes. Do I care? No. Do I need to go to sleep? Yes.

Oh, and a side note...

The pancakes at the new coffee shop by campus are fantastic! And they serve them until 10pm. A bargain at a buck a pop. Also, I am opening a new breakfast joint--Satan's House of Pancakes. That way, on Sunday mornings when Perkins is full of all the people returning from church, there will be a place to get delicious breakfast meals without having to wait for a long time. Chances are most of the church-goin' folk would not enjoy a post sin savin' meal at the anti-christ diner.
Slogan: I'd sell my soul for Satan's Pancakes or They're devilishly delicious. Our spokesperson will be a big happy devil with his pitchfork pickin' up hot, buttery pancakes. He will be sporting a devilish grin. Ha...I made a pun. I am delirious at this moment. Must get back to annotations.

My Life at the Moment

MUST...READ...MORE...CRITICAL...ESSAYS...ON...MARY...WILKINS...FREEMAN...
NEED...MORE...ANNOTATIONS...MUST...REACH...ANNOTATION...PERFECTION...