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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.