alarming

Last weekend Niall decided to make meatloaf. The concept had previously not appealed to him, which makes sense given its name. Meat... loaf. However, he realized that he likes all the ingredients that typically go into a meatloaf, so he thought he’d give it a go. I found him the Pioneer Woman’s recipe online and he modified it in an apparent effort to include as many animals as possible (ground beef, ground lamb, bacon strips over the top).

The baconey drippings from the meatloaf got a bit scorched in the oven while it was baking, which meant that our fire alarm went off and we subsequently learned that our fire alarm is the least alarmed sounding alarm in the world. It makes a pitiful little meep noise and also says the words “Fire. Fire.” I don’t feel like our fire alarm takes its job very seriously. In fact, I wouldn’t even call it a fire alarm. It’s more of a fire calmly announce.

By contrast, my old building’s fire alarm system was absolutely MILITANT about its job. Whenever I cooked pretty much anything it would start shrieking at me and I’d have to open the window and fan the alarm unit with a towel until it shut the hell up. If there was fire detected or an alarm pulled in any of the common areas of the building, there was a speaker inside every apartment that would make siren noises and ALSO shout at you:

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.

YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE.

AN ALARM HAS BEEN ACTIVATED.

WE ARE INVESTIGATING THE CAUSE.

PLEASE REMAIN CALM AND STANDBY NEAR THE SPEAKER FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTION.

[short pause]

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.

YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE…. Etc.

This would repeat on a loop over and over until whatever happened was figured out, at which point we would usually get an announcement like “Thank you for your attention, this has been a false alarm” or whatever. The longest it ever went on while I lived there was probably only about 15 minutes, but that FEELS LIKE ETERNITY when, say, you’re woken up from a sound sleep in the middle of the night.

Last night I made brownies and I went to bed right after I took them out of the oven. I woke up this morning feeling unusually warm. The whole apartment felt unusually warm. And then I found out that I had accidentally LEFT THE OVEN ON ALL NIGHT.

I think I may have mentioned this previously, my cousin once used her blow dryer and then put it away under the sink in her bathroom and then left for work. When she came home that afternoon she found that HER HOUSE HAD BURNED DOWN. (She’s fine, her family is all fine, but house = gone.)

Burning the house down is one of my nightmares. And I left the oven on! All night! What if something had caught fire? What if the house had burned down? If I left the oven on, what if this means I might leave OTHER things on and forget about them also? OHMYGOD I’m going to burn our house down, or not put the emergency brake on my car when I park it on a hill and have it roll down and hit someone, or turn on the garbage disposal when somebody is fishing out a spoon, or leave a vulnerable person or animal in a hot car, or SOMETHING TERRIBLE IS OBVIOUSLY GOING TO HAPPEN AND IT WILL BE ALL MY FAULLLLLLLLLT.

My fire calmly announce may not be very alarmed, but I certainly am.

71. memorize the 12 Days of Christmas

Last year, Swistle blew my mind a little bit when she deconstructed first Do They Know it's Christmas, and then Winter Wonderland. I've been paying more attention to Christmas song lyrics this year, partly because of the aforementioned blown mind and partly because I was finally, FINALLY going to memorize the 12 Days of Christmas. Never say that I don't have goals, people.
As per my tradition, my car radio has been tuned to the Christmas music station since the day after Thanksgiving. Every time the 12 Days of Christmas comes on, I do my very best to belt it out, even if I'm in the car with another person and we were deep in conversation. "Hang on!" I'll say, "I have to do something! ON THE FIRST DAY OF CHRISTMAS, MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO MEEE...."

I got to the point where I THOUGHT I had it memorized, but then recently I was singing along with the radio and I kept getting thrown off and tripping over the verses, like "TWELVE DRUMMERS D- oops, LORDS-A-LEAPING! ELEVEN PIPERS PI-, I mean, DRUMMERS DRUMMING!" And that didn't seem quite right. Because, as I remembered, the first seven days are all the birds, with a nice little time-out for the five gold rings. And then on the eighth day come the maids-a-milking, which makes for a good transition point from animals to humans because it is a human/animal combo verse (maid plus cow). And then the ninth day is ladies dancing, which makes sense because right after that comes the tenth day, with lords-a-leaping. If you've got ladies dancing, you must also have lords-a-leaping, and you should always have MORE lords-a-leaping than ladies dancing. And THEN of course, you round out the group with eleven pipers piping and twelve drummers drumming, because all of this merry-making could probably use a nice pipe and drum-based soundtrack (though I suspect the maids-a-milking probably get a little irked at this point, what with all the noise and dancing and LEAPING that's going on as they are trying to do their chores).

That was the version I memorized, and the one I heard most often on the radio, but now I was getting thrown off. So then I looked it up, and you know what I found out? Apparently, it is totally acceptable 12 Days of Christmas behavior to MIX UP THE LYRICS of the last few objects. You can even SUBSTITUTE some of the people with "fiddlers fiddling" or "ladies waiting," which makes me feel like we're being set up to fail. How can a person memorize the lyrics, if they can just CHANGE at any moment? Well, I'm crossing this item off my list because technically I DID memorize the lyrics; it's just a TRICK SONG.

Further on the subject of Christmas song lyrics, I can't listen to Baby, it's Cold Outside anymore because of the distinct date-rapey vibe (SAY WHAT'S IN THIS DRINK?). I make an exception of the Glee Cast version, because it's actually kinda cute.
And, is it just me, or is anyone else completely terrified by the concept of Frosty the Snowman? The kids build a snowman, put a hat on it, and then it COMES TO LIFE. And then, what? He threatens the kids with a broomstick in his hand, so now they're forced to follow him over the hills (probably farther than their mothers told them they were allowed to go), into town, and through an INTERSECTION. And just as they're getting kind of used to the idea of it being their lot in life to chase him around, he tells them "Sorry, I've gotta peace out" AND leaves them with a menacing "BUT I'LL COME BACK SOMEDAY." So now the poor kids have to go through life wondering which storm will bring the demon snowman back around.
I guess the message here is to always bring your OWN HAT when you're going to build a snowman, don't just use one you FIND. Lesson learned.

S-U-P-E-R-J-U-L-E-S-Y

I often find myself having to spell out my email address. Super. Julesy, I'll say, ess you pee ee are jay you el ee ess why. I have come up with an anagram, inspired by Avitable. But a lot less... dirty. Here it is:

S as in Snark.

U as in Unicorn.

P as in Pie.

E as in Enthusiastic Anti-Douchebag Activist.

R as in Rump.

J as in Jazz Hands, of the sarcastic variety.

U as in, again, Unicorn.

L as in LOUNGE PANTS.

E as in Emotions. I haz them.

S as in Sparkles!

Y as in Yesterday was Thursday Thursday, today it is Friday Friday. We we we so excited. We so excited. We gonna have a ball today.


Easy, right? YOU'RE WELCOME.

Perspective

"Oh man. That guitar they had at Guitar Center was so sweet. Now my guitar sucks."

"Huh."

"You know what I mean? It's like I just shouldn't have even played that nice guitar. You know?"

"Mmm."

"It's like.... Think of it like if you drove a Ferrari and then you went back to driving your car. Your car would feel lame and slow."

"Well. My car just IS lame and slow. But I also don't care."

"But you can IMAGINE if you drove a Ferrari, right? And then your car wouldn't seem as nice?"

"Okay. Can you just try explaining this again? Try and think of something that will make sense to ME."

"..."

"Something I can relate to?"

"Okay... Let's see... imagine you rode, like, the best horse ever. Like imagine you rode Seabiscuit. No, wait. Imagine you rode Black Beauty and then you went back and had to ride a regular horse."

"OH."

"Yeah. You know Black Beauty, right? You're riding through a beautiful forest with long flowing hair-"

"Wait, me or the horse?"

"Uh.... Both! You both have long flowing hair."

"Okay I get it now. Your guitar sucks."

Phone Anxiety: I haz it.

I don't like talking on the phone to people I don't know. When I was doing the online dating thang I liked the email, then text, then meet route. Because I can be awkward and squeaky when I talk on the phone to my FRIENDS so I can only imagine how I might sound to a stranger/potential suitor.
I have gotten better at calling the health center or the hair place to make appointments but I still hate calling to order from takeout places or calling businesses to ask questions. And if I have to call my new preceptor who I haven't even met in person yet? GAH.

Sometimes writing out a little script helps. Just so I hit all the important points and don't get trapped in the neverending circle of "Okay, just let me know what works best for you, thank you. I'm sorry again for calling so late, just let me know what works for you, okay, thanks again...."

Day 01: Something you hate about yourself

I've seen this 30 days of truth thang pop up on a few people's blogs and while I'm don't know if I'm actually going to commit to doing ALL 30 assignments, I think I'll jump in here with the first one. Something I hate about myself. I've been wanting to write about this for awhile and this is a good way to bring it up, I think.

I am jealous.

In relationships, I mean. I am jealous and insecure in relationships. For some reason I have a hard time with the concept that someone I'm dating had a girlfriend before me. And I get jealous feelings when I think about it.

I recognize the insanity of this, really I do. I honestly don't want to date someone who has never been in a serious relationship. Because, GAH, who the hell has never been in a serious relationship?
Douchebags and creepy weirdos, that's who. And I do not want to date douchebags or creepy weirdos.
Uh. Anymore, I mean.

Really, I want to be with someone who has had previous relationships. I want the guy I'm with to have had all the experiences of learning and growing and compromising and sharing and arguing and loving and having his heart broken. I know those experiences (usually) make people stronger and better and more capable of being in a relationship.

And yet, at the same time I hate the idea of him doing all those things with someone else. I hate the idea of someone else having been in my place. Of him taking some other girl to dinner on her birthday. Of him celebrating an anniversary or going on vacation with some other girl. Of him introducing her to his friends and family. What was that like? Is it different with me? Aren't I somehow better or more special than she was? Don't you wish you had gone on that vacation with me? Or taken me to visit your grandparents at Christmas? I hate the idea of them still being friends. Because I don't understand how to be friends with your ex. What do people talk about? Do they reminisce about their life together? Talk about the times they shared and the memories they made? Aren't I somehow better or more special than she was?

Most of all, I hate that this bothers me so much. I hate that it makes me feel somehow less important, less special. And I hate that I feel so alone in this-- that the other, normal people don't get hung up on this stuff. I hate to admit that the past bothers me because I want to be strong and confident and mature and present-focused.

But I'm not. And I hate it.

OH MA GAH

There must be something in this butter besides just butter. I got the butter from the Farmers' Market. Actually, is it Farmers' Market or Farmer's Market? Because I would imagine that there is more than just the one Farmer but I feel like I've seen it spelled Farmer's. Or is it just Farmers with no apostrophe? And as a sidenote, it tends to very much bother me when abbreviations have extraneous apostrophes. Like CD's. Because you wouldn't say Compact Disc's. Well, unless you were talking about something belonging to the Compact Discs. Like: the Compact Disc's feelings were hurt when you stepped on it.

But please to be ignoring all the spelling quirkisms and grammatical fabulosity you find amongst my words.

Anyhow, this butter, you see. It must be made of something besides just butter. I put some on my late night mashed potatoes and it was creamy and salty and delicious now it seems like everything around me is sort of glowy and silllllky smooth. I feel like I want a big hug or a nice firm handshake or for somebody to hold my leg for me while I sleep or put their finger in my ear for just a second.

Goodnight, strange swirly world. I'm getting up at 4:45 for work. Why am I not asleep yet? PUT YOUR FINGER IN MY EAR.

Teeth and Ovary

Toothsome
Yesterday I was at the dentist-- for the third time in a week and a half. Apparently they do mean it when they say you should see the dentist every 6 months. I used to do that... and then I started nursing school. But I found myself with some free time and so I went for a teeth cleaning last week. No big deal except a couple spots of decay and a chipped tooth. I went back the other day for my fillings and OH MAN. Maybe it's just the locations of these particular fillings or maybe I just haven't had a filling in awhile but I felt like my dentist got out the special tools just for me. He also doesn't really say what he is doing while he does it and maybe that only matters to me now that I'm a nurse and care about medical/procedural thangs. But when I'm lying there and somebody's wielding what looks to be an old ratchet and a pair of pliers I want to know what they're up to.

"Just to warn you I'm going to use my slow drill. It is more precise than my fast one" he said. And then I can only assume he signaled to someone to start pedaling in the next room because the drill was so big and clunky and rattled so hard I thought all my teeth were going to shake loose.
And then yesterday I went back to get the fillings finished up and my dentist whipped out a piece of SANDPAPER and sanded down my teeth. SANDPAPER.

I mean, I'm not saying this dentist did anything wrong, but it did sort of leave me wondering if those tools were really the best and most technologically advanced available.

Name that Ovary
A couple months ago I told my primary care NP that I sometimes get really horrendously painful cramps that leave me nauseous, sweaty, crying, and unable to stand up straight. She offered to write me a prescription for Vicodin and I held myself back from tackle-hugging her. Seriously. I was so happy I almost cried. But I also felt kind of stupid, because who take Vicodin for CRAMPS?
"I don't know what the deal is," I told her, "I mean. I feel kind of lame for taking Vicodin for this but it IS really painful. But I don't get it-- it is only sometimes; it doesn't happen every month."
"Well," she said. "Is it every other month?"
I paused and thought back. I could remember the present month as pain-free and the previous month as MIND NUMBINGLY PAINFUL but that was as far back as I could recall. "I think so," I said.
"Sounds like you've got one very powerful ovary."

One Very Powerful Ovary.

Seriously, guys, watch out for me and my ovary-- we're going to take over the world.
And now when I have cramps I get to say things like "It's powerful ovary month" and "Don't cross me, sucka, I've got more power in one little ovary that you have in your entire realm."

It was recently suggested to me that my ovary needs a name. And I think it does. She does, rather. Obviously my ovary is a girl. Also, she's the left one, by the by.

Here are the names I have come up with so far:
Jadis- the name of the witch from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. She was a bitch, that's for sure, but no one can deny that she was powerful.
Ursula- the sea witch. Her name sounds like an ovary to me.
Maleficent- the evil queen. Her name just sounds eeeeevil. But maybe she's too evil because, y'know I like my ovary and all.
Ate- pronounced "Ah-tay." The Greek goddess of evil, misfortune, and infatuation. I do like how she is described as a temptress who leads humans toward evil.
Lilith- While looking up possible names, I came across our old friend Lilith. I like that she's naughty and disobedient and sexy and not submissive.

I'm irrationally afraid...

... of Ferris Wheels.

I don't remember the exact beginning of this but I do remember specific terrifying trips on the Ferris Wheel. Like the time I went with my sister and my dad on this big one where you rode in this round capsule thing with seats all around and I spent the whole time crouched on the floor in the center. And then there was the time that Jenny made me go on the one at the Boardwalk where you're in a cage and there is a lever that you can pull to spin the cage around and upside down. I remember we were 10 or 11 and I remember that Jenny was in charge of pulling the lever and I was in charge of screaming hysterically.

... of people in big costumes.

If you want to see me have a panic attack, invite a big be-costumed person to come over and hug me. Seriously. I RAN the other direction when I saw Elmo walking toward me at Blogher.

... of Giants.

Whenever I'm, like, driving at night or see something weird out of the corner of my eye, the creepy thing I think it might be is always a GIANT. Like: Aah! A giant! Oh, no, wait, it's just a lamppost with a tree behind it. Thank goodness.

... that one of those highway overpasses is going to come to life and start walking around like an enormous centipede.

That's what I think about every single time I drive under one like this.

So, uh, your turn?

This Just In: I DO NOT LIKE CAPERS

If you have ever been a child or spent time with children you probably know that they can be finicky eaters. It's amazing-- without ever having tried something, somehow young children just know they don't like it! "I don't LIKE that stuff" my niece will say, pointing at the offending freshly grated parmesan cheese atop her pasta shells.

But I really have no high horse when it comes to this subject. I was the child who went through the "only white foods" phase wherein I refused to eat anything but white bread, cottage cheese, marshmallows, and rice. And I spent a long time (I'm talking years) not liking certain foods just because I hadn't really tried them. Olives. Pickles. Shrimp. Cashews. Lentils. Broccoli. Swiss cheese. Oysters. Mushrooms. Jalapeno Poppers. Onions. Custard. Sushi. I decided I didn't like these foods and so I didn't eat them.

Over the years I managed to take off my crazy hat and realized that I, in fact, DID like these foods. That pickles are saltily delicious and Sushi is bite-sized and nummy and Jalapeno Poppers WERE SENT STRAIGHT FROM THE HEAVENS.

Anyhow.

On Sunday my mom took me to Gayle's Bakery which you should totally visit if you are ever in the neighborhood. Becauase uh mah guh, you guys. The pastries! The breads! The cookies! The sandwiches and cakes! The num!

I decided on a ham and brie sandwich on french bread and started eating it with great enthusiasm. It was delicious! Or was it? Something was... off. I stopped to examine the sandwich before I took another bite.
And I saw them.
Capers.

CAPERS ON MY SANDWICH.

GAAAAAAH.

I had always unconsciously classified Capers into that category of "foods I just ignore." Sure they might be on some chicken dish I ordered at a restaurant but I could just scoot them out of the way and forget about them. I didn't think I cared too much either way about capers but I preferred not to eat them.

But then they were right there smooshed in my sandwich! All green and glisteny with hairy-looking stuff squishing out. GAAAAH.

So. Capers. Capers have now been reclassified into the category of FOODS I DO NOT LIKE. Or perhaps FOODS THAT ARE TRYING TO STEAL MY SOUL. I don't know what precisely it is about them but on Sunday I discovered that capers reduce me to involuntary twitches and shudders and I have to put my hands on the back of my neck and rock back and forth and squeeze my eyes shut and hold my breath and I can't even look at my sandwich anymore because, seriously CAPERS ARE EVIL.

Lil Prezzies

Let's see.... the weather is crappyish and school has been tough and clinicals are nail-bitey. I'm sloggily heaving myself toward June because that's when summer starts but it's not like I will really get a break since I'm starting more clinicals and ugh I'm feeling burnt out and icky and I can't even wear my pretty new dresses because of the NEVERENDING RAIN AND FOG.

What's that, Weather? You'd like to show me how nice and sunny you are today? Well screw you, I'm stuck indoors studying all day long! Give me sunshine and GIVE ME BACK MY WEEKEND.

Oh my.

Well. Now I've turned into a crazy person, literally shouting and cursing at the heavens. Let's ignore my little outburst and turn our attention to what I meant to write about today, okay?

***Shiny happy things!***

It is no secret that I'm a firm believer in rewarding and treating oneself. And, while my life is immeasurably better than it was last year at around this time, it is by no means perfect or easy. I mean, who's is, right? So! In light of that, I've been indulging in little treats to brighten my own days.


1. Mini Herb Garden. This was actually a surprise gifty and included planter box and little wee seeds of oregano, rosemary, and thyme. I also have a little basil plant. Collectively I call them my Herberts, which cracks me up almost daily but no one else seems to find it funny.

2. Subscription to People Magazine. I finally caved and subscribed because I do enjoy fluffy celebrity gossip and the reading of it in the bathtub. I got a year subscription for $112 which they will bill in four installments. It works out to a little over two bucks an issue which is far cheaper than buying it at the supermarket. Two dollars a week is a pretty good deal for something I know I will enjoy.

3. Zippy pouch of the month club. The Dainty Squid Etsy shop has this deal wherein they send you a cute little handmade zipper pouch each month. I signed up for six months which was about $50, including shipping.

(Photo from The Dainty Squid Etsy store)

It works out to $8.33ish per pouch. Not SUPER cheap but still a pretty good price for getting a little handmade present in the mail every month. Plus! I can give them away as gifties if I so desire.

So that's what's been making ME a happier Julesy lately, what about you?

Dithering

1. I hope that post I wrote a few days ago didn't sound like I was trivializing Califmom's pain. I feel like it might have come off as "oh my grandmother died when I was 13 so I TOTALLY GET what it's like to lose your spouse of 21 years" which, of course not. Really, I just meant to say this: It sucks when people die.

2. All of my neighbors officially suck. I left little notes outside TEN of their doors to ask if anyone would be interested in sharing the cost of internet and NO ONE has responded. What gives? I've been coming up with theories like maybe they think I'm crazy for leaving notes or maybe they think I'm going to hack into their computers or or or... but I think I'm more satisfied with the conclusion that they just suck.

3. Related to this, should I buy internet now for my house? Right now I'm just dealing with using someone's janky weak un-password-protected signal and that's okay because it's free. Although it WOULD be nice if it were faster and crashed less. But arg, why does internet have to be so expensive? (And why do all my neighbors have to suck so much?)

4. I bought this skirt from Old Navy about a month ago.

And I love love love it. I love the length and how comfortable it is and I love that the color is called Peacock. On my way home today I stopped by Old Navy again to buy it in some other colors but it was GONE. But it IS online. So my question to you is this: should I buy it online? If so, which colors? I'm considering the hot pink and light purple. And is it worth it to buy them now at full price ($16.50) plus shipping ($7 flat rate) or should I wait until it goes on sale? But what if they sell out before it goes on sale? Or should I just not buy any of them unless they go on sale and live my life under the presumption that someday I'll find another skirt I love?

Cures for the Crankies

This post has been saved as a draft for DAYS AND DAYS because I kept hoping some stroke of genius would hit me. Sadly, it has not. I have found no magical remedy for when I feel grumpy for no legitimate reason. It worries me, this.

So! Here's what other people suggested. The number one idea was SLEEP. Which, yes. That is true. I usually do fall asleep when I am upset but it is usually because (a) it's bedtime or (b) I've exhausted myself from crying. Or both. I think when I am cranky I somehow become like a small child-- heaving and sobbing instead of just CALMING THE EFF DOWN AND TAKING A NAP. Okay. So I'll work on this. Feel cranky, go to sleep, wake up feeling better. Yes.

Other suggestions included the following:
Shower
Sex
Massage
Pedi
Chocolate

Maybe I should keep those on a little cheat sheet or write them on my hand or something so that when I am feeling down I REMEMBER that things I enjoy do exist in this bleak desolate world.

Also, I've found that when someone around me is wearing grumpypants I ask them to tell me some of the things that they like. Anything at all, I say, name it! Hiking? Beer? Ponies? Gossip? Shoes? Hot tubs? Road trips? Friends? Music? Cuddling? I'm not sure if it works, but the theory is that thinking of things that make you happy in general might make you feel slightly better at the moment.

So there you have it: when I'm upset I turn into a weepy puddle-person but when YOU'RE upset I'm Fraulein Goddamn Maria.

How do you sleep at night?

Okay I have several posts that are half-written at this moment but instead I'm choosing to start a new one! So ha.

Everyone has a different nighttime ritual/outfit/blanket arrangement/side of the bed/routine of choice and I feel like when someone tells me theirs I'm always FLOORED. Like, you sleep with your feet outside the blankets? What are you, some kind of animal?

So, here is mine, just in case you're curious about Bedtime Jules.

Unless I have company, I sleep in an old tee shirt and undies. My favorite nightshirts are my dad's old lifeguarding shirts. I've been wearing them since I liberated them from his dresser when I was in middle school. I also have a select FEW other shirts that I choose from. And undies. That's it. Any other bedtime clothing else tends to feel Horribly Uncomfortable. I know a lot of people sleep in, like, pajamas. I have seen them at Target and whatnot. They are cute! Little tankie toppies with matching shorts or pants or whatever. But I never buy them because I can't sleep in a tank top-- it leaves my shoulders bare and prone to perceived wind-chill. And PANTS? OMG just the idea of them bunching and riding up makes me shudder. NO PANTS.

If I am sleeping on my tummy, my face is to the right with my right arm is folded under the pillow and my left arm bent with my wrist resting on my hip. If I'm on my side, some of the blanket is folded between my knees because their bony prominences are, well, BONY. The blankets must cover my feet and come up to my shoulders. If I have to choose one or the other of those two I will choose my feet.

I'm also a mouth-breather, originating from my childhood allergies. If I try to breathe through my nose I feel like I'm going to CHOKE AND DIE. When I see people sleeping in movies or TV I get all anxious because I imagine myself laying there with my head on the middle of the pillow and it reminds me of how much I think I am going to DIE. So my mouth is usually open when I sleep. If you see me sleeping on a plane, I am invariably that person with her head leaning back on the headrest and mouth wide open. It's... hawt.

Anyhow, my bed is lovely and comfortable, especially since I got this blanket. And I have a Bowie who usually sleeps at the foot of my bed. Sometimes I read a chapter of a book or poke around on the computer before I go to sleep, and almost every night I take a Benadryl for allergy/sleep purposes.

Bedtime Jules

So I'm curious, how do you sleep at night?

Cranking

Last night I was wearing some SERIOUS grumpypants.

I was normal all day and then I came home and turned into a Crank Monster.
I think it was some combination of any or all of the following: a few drinks after school with my classmates, not enough to eat, hormones, stress, and general tiredness from the week.

Everything was fine. And then all of a sudden everything was NOT FINE. And I was on edge. Irritable. Sensitive. Weepy.

Things that I wouldn't normally even think about were severely upsetting to me. Things that are Fine and Perfectly Normal suddenly caused a downward spiral into despair, anger, sadness, and regret.

Logically, I could tell that there was nothing really the matter. Logically, I could tell that I wanted to quit grumping and snap out of it.
But the thing about logic? It doesn't make the feelings go away.

The only thing really I know how to do when I feel this way is to give myself a little "time out;" to excuse myself and go cry in the bathroom. But it doesn't really make me feel better and I'm sure it's awkward for other people when I come out all sniffly and red-eyed pathetic looking.

There are many things that do make me feel better when I'm down-- a shower, a yummy treat, a cuddle-- but when I'm wearing crankypants it's harder for me to see them. But I did eventually calm down. I had a nice rest of the evening, went to sleep feeling a little better, and woke up this morning feeling happy, refreshed, and totally back to normal.

I would like to learn how to, like, streamline this process: feel cranky for no real reason, do ________, feel better. So am I the lone crazy Crankmonster here? Or does this happen to anyone else? And what do you do to make it better in the moment?

Perceivedmistrustovercompensatitis

I just wrote and erased this like four times already which apparently means I'm having trouble putting it into words. But! I'm trying again! Here goes....

Sometimes I do this thing. If someone gives me the sense that they suspect something of me-- that I'm lying or hiding something or not doing what I'm supposed to-- then I tend to get all nervous and flustered. And I'M SURE that this gives off the impression that I AM hiding something or lying through my teeth or that I just snooped through their email inbox.

And then, because I know I look guilty, I start to FEEL guilty, like I feel bad for doing whatever it is I perceive the person thought I was doing. And then I get even more sweaty and discombobulated, all the while trying to make it clear that really! nothing's wrong! I'm totally innocent!!!!!

I think there needs to be a word for this condition. I can't be the only person to whom this happens, does it ever happen to you?

Geography

One of my friends recently asked me if Tahoe was in Yosemite. She prefaced this by saying that she felt really stupid for not knowing it, but she's from the East Coast so I think it's a permissible mistake. I also have another friend from the East Coast who once referred to Northern California as "Upstate California."

Anyhow, I told her not to feel bad because, really, I don't think I could name half the states on the East Coast and I'm pretty sure that some of them might actually be imaginary. And then I told her that, no, actually Tahoe isn't a part of Yosemite-- it is its own place. Basically Tahoe is located right on the border of California and Nevada. You know how California is, like, spooning Nevada? Well Tahoe is right where Nevada's butt is resting on California's crotch.

(from Google Maps)

Crystal clear, am I right?

Wanted: Nonscary Oil Incense Burner.

As a part of my make-my-bathroom-more-like-a-spa project, I went out in search of an oil incense burner. If you were to ask me why I favor oil incense, I would tell you that it is by process of elimination--

I like scented candles but I don't like how they burn unevenly. I don't like that sometimes the plate or saucer is insufficient and the wax drips out everywhere. But I also don't like the ones that come in more cup-like holders because then they burn down and you're still left with an uneven lump of wax that you either just plop a new candle on top of or scrape out of the holder with a knife and a whole lot of swearing. So, no candles.

I like the idea of regular incense in either cones or sticks, but I do have a bit of a sensitive allergic nose and the smoke from those both tend to bother me. Also, I can't deal with the cleanup of the PILES AND PILES OF INCENSE POWDER that they leave behind.

I also don't want to use some air freshener fan or that weird thing that shoots a puff of good smell into the air whenever it feels like it. Those seem somehow more chemically to me than burning oil. And also not as pretty.

Okay, do we all follow my logic for oil incense? Moving on. I decided that my old burner wasn't sufficiently zen for my spa-like bathroom. So I went looking for a new one.

And I found it nearly impossible to find an oil incense burner that wasn't shaped like some kind of howling creature.

Behold, this.

And this.

And this.

And these guys.

Maybe other people don't have the same problem with this that I do, but when I look at those I can instantly hear them crying "AWOOOOOOOO AAAAHHHHHH OOOOOOOOOO" in my head and that does not seem to be very zen at all.

So I didn't realize I was going to have to make this stipulation but here goes: I am looking for a new oil incense burner that DOES NOT RESEMBLE A BELLOWING MONSTER.

LAPPY!

In the past, oh, hour or so I have become completely obsessed with the idea of getting one of those mini laptops.

I guess it all started earlier today, when I started feeling more and more like I should go to Blogher this year. I had a nebulous idea about it this morning and then by this afternoon I had essentially decided to go. My main reasons for thinking I was not going were (1) money and (2) what if I'm doing something else then? But then I realized that the solutions seem to be (1) credit card and budgeting blah blah and (2) plan to go to Blogher because then that will be the thing that I'm doing then.

And then I realized that if I go to Blogher, I'm going to want to bring my laptop, and wouldn't it be great if I had a MINI laptop to bring? (Yes).

And then Miss Grace told me that they have them at Costco for $notcheapbutreallynotALLthatmuch. What I really want is a give a laptop get a laptop laptop but I don't think they are running the GET part of that deal anymore and it is probably selfish of me but I'd really like to get one if I'm donating two hundred bones (especially since that used to be part of their dealie).

Apparently I've also been nominated by Holly and Miss Grace to bring my "lappy" next weekend. Lappy! I love that Holly calls it a lappy. A LAPPY! If I had a mini laptop, I would certainly call it a lappy. Okay, so here we go. Top Ten Reasons why Superjules Needs a Mini Laptop:

1. I could call it a LAPPY
2. Cuteness
3. Purse fittage
4. Ease on planes
5. I would bring it to class, no really I would
6. uh...
7. It's cheaper than a regular laptop and mine is almost two years old
8. Lightweightness
9. Blogher and other bloggy conference needs
10. LAPPY!

About Me

I have slender, bony fingers and tiny wrists.

I have lived in California my whole life. I am open to the idea of living somewhere else, but I don't know how likely that is. I love it here.

I don't have cable.

I am a nurse.

I shop at thrift stores.

I have no patience for the family of video games in which you pretend to play instruments. Also, I suck at them.

But I can hula hoop like a badass.

There are things I probably shouldn't have done or said, but right now I have no regrets. Everything that has happened has gotten me to where I am now.

I am never bored.

I like old people.

I am a great gift giver.

I am learning to cook, sorta.

My parents have been happily married for over 40 years.

I have an overactive imagination.

I am working on a zen organizing project.

I am a tremendously bad liar. I just CAN'T.

I have 8 nieces and nephews.

I always spell nieces wrong the first time. Same goes for received.

But I never mix up your and you're.

I love to laugh.

But I also cry. A lot.

I have been to Fiji.

Chips and salsa is possibly my favorite snack food.

I fall asleep on my tummy.

I count on my fingers.

I am always cold.

I have been sailing. I thought it was too windy.

I have been harassed, threatened, stalked, abused, insulted, lied to, cheated on, stolen from, manipulated, abandoned, and betrayed. I am stronger now than I could have ever imagined.

I don't like coffee.

I have a cat. He is 25 pounds of awesome.

I am a creature of habit, but I also love to go on new adventures.

I believe in myself.

I have a primal urge to sing Ebony and Ivory karaoke.

I am terrified of people in large costumes out of context. Halloween: Okay. Grocery store: NOT OKAY.

I'm a little bit nuts.

I can bend my right thumb backwards all the way behind my index finger's knuckle.

I once tried putting cream cheese in my tea because I was out of milk.

I once worked as an intern on a documentary that won an Emmy.

Speaking of movies, my favorite ones are Labyrinth, Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, Pulp Fiction, Little Miss Sunshine, Role Models, Undercover Blues, Ishtar, The Muppet Christmas Carol, Sex and the City, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Repo! The Genetic Opera, and Annie.

My favorite books are The Glass Castle, The Lovely Bones, anything by David Sedaris or Augusten Burroughs, One Hundred Years of Solitude, The Poisonwood Bible, The Other Boleyn Girl, Twelfth Night, and The Ordinary Princess.

PBR is my beer of choice.

Miss Grace and I have been friends for twenty years.

In high school, I commuted an hour each way. It was not fun.

I love to take baths.

I don't like wine. I do like champagne.

I make soap.

I can raise one eyebrow. Only the left one.

I have tattoos.

I have a lot of feelings.

This is my blog.