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So today was my first real holiday away from my family, and I had to work. Anyway, I've been feeling pretty lonely and dejected. However, instead of dwelling on it any longer, I felt like baking some sugar cookies and perusing some lighthearted humor. Here are the winners:

"Jack Black defines 'octagon' on Sesame Street."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_7jpz_55EdM
Why this is Amusing:
Well, it's Jack Black talking to Elmo . . . about octagons. That's funny. And, octagon was my first multi-syllable word, and there was a memorable time when a stop sign was the most exciting occurrence of my day.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/23123614@N00/3643705248/sizes/l/

eh. it's ironic.



Happy 4th! Because when I think of America, I think of our troops . . . and kitties.

My blog hates me . . .

. . . because I don't ever write in it and that makes it sad.

But as I'm currently dealing with this night's episode of "I'm Incapable of Sleeping," I thought I'd show my lonely little blog some love:

I'm graduating next May, and the job-panic is dramatically on the rise. Not surprisingly, job-panic is one of the main symptoms of my insomnia.

I'm considering career options I've never taken seriously before.

But more on this tomorrow, I'm starting to write in circles and that's annoying to everyone.

If only I could say it . . .

As it is summer, and I am yet again stuck with *two* jobs, I find myself wanting to NOT work and instead goof off. Blogging is a pretty good time-consuming remedy, and I can even convince myself that I am still doing something relevant to my career aims. English majors are expected to write, right?

So as I sit here, trying to decide whether an apology is necessary for that last pun, I am thinking about my job. Oh, that's right I have two. Well, only one of them pays so I'm gonna focus on that one:

Since last September, I've worked at an Old Navy part-time. Originally, I liked the job, and I still do for the most part. I have a crazy schedule, and we have enough people working there that I can take off pretty much whenever I need to. Now, outside of my actual job duties, I've observed quite a bit of human behavior. I often find myself thinking responses to customers that I could never say aloud, but have no qualms about posting here:

• A prayer: "Dear God, please bless this woman with the realization that yes, she should get a larger size. Amen."

• "We do not keep things 'in the back,' hiding that size small royal blue tank top that you want on purpose, as you are insinuating. We have no 'evil plans' or personal grudge against you, so get over yourself. Someone else bought it and WE DON'T HAVE ANY MORE."

• "There is a lock on the bathroom door. Guess what it does? As a matter of fact, it WILL keep you from bitching me out about walking in there while you're doing your thing."

• "Please do not breast-feed your infant in the fitting room. I can hear the suckling, and in five minutes when your precious darling spits up, I will have to clean your breast milk off the floor."

• "Writing graffiti on the bathroom walls of an Old Navy is just weird . . . you came here voluntarily to shop, and I don't see what writing 'Old Gayvy' on a wall is really going to accomplish. I'll just end up having to clean it off, anyway."

• "Your husband/wife is a jerk/bitch, you can do bett

Ah! It's in my pants!

So this happened a while ago, but I've finally gotten around to posting it:

Last semester, I was getting on a Blacksburg Transit (BT) bus outside of my apartment at 8:24 (that's the timecheck so I know it's accurate). I was sitting towards the back of the bus listening to my iPod, and it's pretty quiet (college kids are generally not to awake and aware before noon unless sports and alcohol are abundant).

Then, I feel something on my leg.

Okay, maybe it's just air from an open door or from the heater. I reach down below my knee and feel nothing.

But then, I feel something on the other side of my knee.

This time when I reach down, I feel a small bump under my pants. But maybe there's a hunk of lint being shifted around or something like a wayward Bounce sheet. I continue to sit there, trying to shake off whatever is clinging to my pants leg. At this point I'm attracting sideways glances from the guy sitting next to me.

and then it moved

I felt the little bump move further UP my leg, not down as the gravity / leg-shaking combination should have ensured. At this point, I scream and start furiously hitting my leg. People are looking at me oddly -- don't they understand that there is obviously a giant tarantula in my pants?

Somewhere within the freaking out I managed to lose track of the moving lump. I am both terrified and relieved. I can't feel it -- and trust me, I'm touching myself everywhere in a most embarrassing manner. So maybe it fell out. However, I can't see it on the floor either, so I'm still pretty scared.

While I'm weighing the two possibilities, we're getting to campus and I finally get off the bus. I very briskly walk to the closest building, run to the bathroom, and rip my pants off before I even close the stall door. I turn my pants inside-out and shake them while standing on the toilet (to ensure that the giant tarantula won't land on my foot, but instead on the bathroom floor).

After a few minutes of this, I see that nothing is happening. The panic has lessened significantly, and I just feel foolish. Just as I'm stepping off the toilet, I see a butterfly flopping around on the floor.

That's right -- a butterfly. Dear God, I had a butterfly in my pants.

The absurdity of this makes me laugh, while feeling awful at the same time. The poor butterfly's wing is crippled -- probably from my insane leg-shaking action.

My Two Cents on the Favre Drama

I read this ESPN article by Gene Wojciechowski this morning following the announcement that the Packers have traded quarterback Brett Favre to the New York Jets.

And it made me angry.

Wojciechowski makes the whole blow-up seem like the Packers' mistake, and make Favre look like some type of well-paid martyr.

Didn't Favre make some type of teary emotional speech in March announcing his retirement from football? Didn't he want to "spend more time with his family?"

Yeah, I thought so.

I know many will try to say he was "pushed into retirement," and then later decided not to stand for it. That makes no sense to me! I know I'm no sports guru, but couldn't the Packers have gotten just as good of a deal out of a Favre trade earlier . . . without all of the drama?

Favre has already been honored by being on the Madden 09 game cover . . . in a PACKERS uniform. The cover was a tribute to his commitment and skill as a long-time NFL quarterback. Now, it's just a joke!

Boys. Are. Stupid.

So, I know it's been a while since the last post, but since I'm pretty sure that I'm the only one who reads this blog, I know that my readers are just as busy as the writer and totally emphasize and understand.

Now that I'm done with run-on sentences, here's a story I just have to share:

Last week, I was off at a youth camp as an adult leader. This job has several responsibilities, which include talking things over with a camper when he/she is having issues. Well, I had a little all-nighter session with one of the teens, a fourteen year-old with guy issues. Here's the basic rundown of events, told in between sobs:

1. She has a Boyfriend.

2. She has a (female) Friend.

3. Boyfriend is hanging out with Friend.

4. Previously, Boyfriend had almost left her for Friend, but didn't.

5. She comes to the automatic conclusion that Boyfriend is cheating with Friend.

Okay, so while I find the whole situation ridiculous, I know stuff like this is important to a perhaps overly-emotional teenager. So I talk, ask questions, make soothing sounds, etc. I end with the line "Guys are just jerks," which usually gets a head nod or an "amen!" from females of any age or background.

Noooooooooo.

She "loves" Boyfriend, and it's ALL Friend's fault. I try to tentatively ask, "Well honey, it takes two doesn't it?" Well, she started crying again, and I could see that I was going nowhere despite my best intentions. So I capitulate, and go back to soothing sounds and "You'd feel so much better if you got some sleep," suggestions.

Needless to say, I've never understood the logic of solely blaming the girl. I'll be the first to admit that certain guys aren't exactly in tune with how relationships should work, but it's totally not fair that he gets off the hook that easily.

In other news, I'm majorly sleep-deprived (from nights akin to the one above), and I just had a birthday!

Zucchini, Games, and Goats

Work has been extremely interesting today.

First, I unloaded 6 large and heavy boxes of t-shirts for camp next week (they were in my car, and I drive a two-door cavalier!).

Then, I rode with my boss to a community center, where she is teaching a youth cooking and nutrition class. Cooking with kids is a trial within itself. However, before we even got started cooking, we went outside to play a game and get the kids' heart rates going.

The game is Giants, Elves, and Wizards. It's like rock, paper, scissors -- except that you use your whole body to make either a giant (by putting your arms waaay up in the air), an elf (squatting down and giving yourself pointy ears), or a wizard (putting your arms in front of you and wiggling your fingers).

The game also involves a lot of running. Since we had an odd number of kids, I was volunteered to play as well. Now, dress at work is business casual. This basically just means that I'm running from a bunch of kids on wet grass in a pair of dress slacks and heels. It's a good thing I love children, because I twisted my ankle and it's all swollen at the moment.

We finally went back indoors and began to cook (vegetable medley and baked chicken nuggets).

Then, the distraction arrives. A couple from a local farm are setting up a small petting zoo right outside the building we're in for a different school group. The kids in our group went ballistic, and we eventually capitulated and I took them out to see the animals which included:

1. A pygmy goat and her baby (who was black and adorable!)
2. Two sheep, (the owner put his little daughter on one, and it bucked like a bronco)
3. A miniature horse (she was totally unconcerned with the kids and ate all the grass in her enclosure)
4. Rabbits (one of the little girls was holding one and squeezed it so tight that the poor thing's eyes were bulging)
5. Geese (mean little buggers, never mess with one, it'll chase you around for hours)
6. Ducks (they were much nicer, the kids got to hold them)

Eventually, I managed to coerce the kids (with promises of food) to come back to the kitchen, where we finally finished cooking everything.

As a special treat, the nutrition person I was working with had made them a chocolate cake. What she didn't tell them (until they had all gotten seconds) was that it had two cups of zucchini in it. Their reactions were great! One girl refused to eat her second piece once she knew it was in there. Silly kids . . .

But, it's been quite the day, and it's only half over!