post-hangover hangover

I had a few too many Santa's Nipples shots and flaming rum punch drinks Saturday night. As a consequence, I spent all of Sunday lying down growning and gnashing my teeth for being so stupid. I was supposed to clean up my old apartment and do some laundry, so those things are still on my agenda before I leave for home (and that also explains my outfit today...).

Before things went awry, I was having a pretty good time. We were out and about downtown and I vaguely remember some loud music and a lot of shouting. The up side of the whole event is that I've gotten my New Years drunk out of the way early and I can plan something less extreme, like sipping hot toddies in my bathrobe while I watch chick flicks.

snippety

I really hate it when people blow me off. Depending on who it is I will either 1. cut them off completely 2. give them another chance but with a warning or 3. let them get away with it but punish them in other ways (the sneaky ass passive aggressive tactic).

I'm currently doing all three of these to different people, which is stupid. I spend waaaaay too much energy being angry and hurt instead of just letting things go. I like my life a lot more when people act the way I want them to, but since that's not always possible except in my imagination, I need to begin practicing the zen of relationships. Once I figure out what that is and how to do it, I'll get right on it.

Note to people who have been pissing me off: Stop it!
Note to people I've been pissing off: I'm sorry already!

merry christmas eva

As you probably know, last night was the finale of America's Next Top Model (3rd season). At the beginning of the show, it was down to three contestants: Amanda, the going blind white girl who looked disturbingly like Annie Lennox with long blonde hair; Eva, the tom boy black girl with short hair and a diva attitude; and Yaya, the bitchy African American girl with an ivy league education and a superior attitude the size of the Bodleian Library.

First, Amanda was cut. I was ecstatic--finally, proof that there is a god and he does hate hippies. Then Eva and Yaya had to compete in a fashion show in Japan. They both did well. The judges were torn. Janice obviously favored Yaya while Nole was sold on Eva. I was biting my nails--would the homegirl win or would the African Queen sail down the Nile?

Finally, Tyra announced Eva's name and cheers erupted from the couch.

my hands smell like fish

No, not a blog about masturbation, but about cooking! Today we had a party for our receptionist who is 1. graduating 2. leaving her job 3. getting married. After much discussion about what to bring, it was generally decided that I should make a tuna noodle casserole. Since my tried and true Betty Crocker let me down, I was reduced to skulking around the egg noodle section of the grocery store until I found a bag with a recipe on the back. Once I'd found the recipe and the ingredients, I was set. I thought.

Fast forward to this morning when I was cooking the noodles and decided it was time to crack open the cans of tuna, only to discover The Can Opener Was At My Old Apartment. No problem, I thought. I'll just use the handy cabinet-attached opener in my spankin' new house. Alas, said opener is sadly lacking in opening ability and the blade wouldn't even make contact with the d*mn can. Since I hated to drive over to the old place just for a can opener and because I am incredibly stubborn, I considered my other options. First thought was the swiss army knife, but while mine has a corkscrew, it has no can opening device. Onto other tools, namely a screwdriver. However, hitting the screwdriver with a hammer did not produce the anticipated opening effect. Finally, in desperation, I took a cleaned nail and made dozens of holes in the cans and used the screwdriver to pry the top up enough to shake out the tuna.

Yes, I was a little late to work, but I got the job done.

peppermint

Those who know me personally may be aware of my distaste for, nee, hatred of, spearmint. It comes from years of living within sniffing distance of Todd Farms spice place that cranked out spearmint odor all of the time. I live happily with environmental odors of roasting coffee, roasting hops (beer!), even pollution that sometimes smells like bandaids, but I cannot stand the smell or taste of spearmint.

That said, I love peppermint. Today I had to rush home to let the gas guy turn my gas back on and light various pilots around the new homestead. As I was coming back to work I realized I could easily stop by the campus big name coffee palace and get a hot bevvie. The closer I got, the more certain I was that I had to have a peppermint mocha. Right now, the cooling dregs are tickling my tongue and sinuses. Damn I love this time of year! Hohoho.

dreamage

I have friends from a variety of backgrounds and family types and there are a few skeletons lingering. Heck, my own family is not "typical". The other night, though, I dreamed that one of my closer pals said to me, "Okay, I'm being completely serious and don't laugh or make fun of me. I wanted to tell you that I'm the genetic clone of my aunt." The idea was that her parents couldn't have children and maybe thought it was too weird to clone themselves.

On my way to work yesterday, I picked up A Widow for One Year, not even realizing what made me think of reading it again...

medicus oldicus

So, one of the cooler things I did in New York was to visit the Academy of Medicine's Rare Book Room. We had a very short tour because we did it during the lunch break of our conference and time was limited. There's a fairly comprehensive collection of "americana", i.e. anything written in the United States about medicine from the 18th and 19th centuries. Unfortunately I couldn't get my (gloved) hands on any of the books since they're all locked up with only the spines visible. I can't, therefore, report on any gross pictures. However, I did pick up a bookmark decorated with pictures of old posters from WWI which were about mosquitos. They were oddly suggestive, showing a mosquito in a bayonet-like position heading toward a soldier's bare butt, and another one showing the mosquito looking like a comely woman seducing a man who hadn't tucked in his netting. My other favorite was a public health poster from the early 1900s about midwives. They were described as dirty and untrained, supposedly in comparison to doctors (yes, the same guys who started the whole idea of women giving birth flat on their backs so they, the doctors, didn't have to squat).

change the channel, quick!

The other night, the Nick and Jessica Christmas Special came on. Rather than leaving the room or walking over to the tv, we spent several minutes desperately trying to mute. Finally, tv owner came to the rescue and changed the channel.

Not that anyone other than me reads this blog, but I will be in new york for a few days and probably not blogging. I recommend you spend your free time catching up on internet porn.

i'd like one of those, one of these...

From today's horrorscope:
"At this time you will probably prefer to have several different light and casual relationships going...."

Since I've only got one right now, I'd better get cracking on finding those "several" relationships. Speed dating, anyone?

Speaking of speed dating, did anyone else watch Gilmore Girls last night? Okay, Paris and Doyle...eeeeeuw. However, the return of Terrance is a joy, and I especially enjoyed the "court ordered rehab" explanation for his absence. Also, hurray for Marty finally telling Rory to stop being naive because it is annoying and extra hurrays to Richard for being Richard to the nth degree.