Maybe it's Furious Rabies (Minus Mortal Fear Of Water) disease.

Today I had a very irrational reaction to being repeatedly thanked for DOING MY JOB. It made me mad! You ask me to do something, I do it, you get what you need, I get paid, everybody's happy. End of story.

Please save the gushing accolades for my next "employee of the month" award. Capiche?

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Furious rabies = in which you become crazed, violent and of course, mortally afraid of water.

The Alien Hand Syndrome defense.

The birthday presents just keep a'comin'. Today I got lunch and flowers from some friends, plus brownies from another friend (not THOSE kind of brownies, sadly, but they were good), and two books:

1,000 Places to See Before You Die, which I have been coveting but have not yet bought for myself, and which I will - of course - use in conjunction with The Hypochondriac's Pocket Guide to Horrible Diseases You Probably Already Have.*

After all, how else am I going to see all these places, if I don't have a million diagnoses to call in sick with? "I don't care WHAT you've heard - I'm really not on my way to the Winter Alpine Balloon Festival. The HONEST TO GOD reason I can't come to work is because I have toxic epidermal necrolysis. Do you want to see that? I DON'T THINK SO. Sheesh."

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* The funniest part (to me, anyway) is that I coincidentally got these two books on the same day from two different friends who don't know each other. I couldn't plan a better punchline than that.

The more of Curb Your Enthusiasm I watch...

... the more I fear that I am the female version of Larry David. Hey - he's a fellow college alumni, if nothing else.

Alfredo sauce does not a soup make.

I mean, seriously. Who the hell would eat an alfredo sauce soup?* How many amongst us have done what I did - picked it up because they thought it was alfredo sauce and dammit, you ran a lot today and for that reason plus numerous others including that your thinking and vision was impaired, comfort food was required - and after making the pasta and fake chicken to go into the sauce you realize it is actually alfredo sauce SOUP??

San Francisco Soup Company - WTF??

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* I must confess - any day other than today, I would probably be ALL OVER an alfredo sauce soup.

Either that - or they're of Irish descent.

It occurred to me at the gym tonight that at least one member of The Shins probably worked in an office at some point. Witness:

• "In our darkest hours we have all asked for some angel to come sprinkle his dust all around. But all our crying voices they can't turn it around and you've had some crazy conversations of your own."
• "But I learned fast how to keep my head up 'cause I know there is this side of me that wants to grab the yoke from the pilot and just fly the whole mess into the sea... Of course I was raised to gather courage from those lofty tales so tried and true and if you're able I'd suggest it 'cause this modern thought can get the best of you."
• "I'll try hard not to give in. Battened down to fair the wind. Read my head, at least pretend. Allow myself no mock defense. Step into the night."
• "But you'll find those lingering voices are just your ego's attempt to make it all clean and nice and make a moron out of you. Crossing a bridge on weakening cables, huddled up in fear and hate because we know our fate and it's a lot to put us through. Most ideas turn to dust as there are few in which we all can trust. Haven't you noticed I've been shedding all of mine? So let's abandon that track and leave our fathers fighting in a sack 'cause we are way too wise-assed for that. We've taken on a climb and it's long enough to put the best of us on our backs. Walking up a slide and there are those we know who'd have us five miles off the track."

Yes, you can call me crazy. Go ahead.

Today I registered for the AIDS Marathon on July 30. Technically speaking I signed up for the full marathon. Mentally I am ready for a 13.x mile run in six months but SOOOOOO NOT READY for a 26.x mile run. But I know people who've done it, and obviously is much easier to train for a full and scale back to a half than vice-versa.

To date I have run 3 miles at a time and been okay. Three goes into 26 eight.point.seven times. That's a lot of running.

It depends completely on my arthritic-since-age-13 knees. My attitude and motivation are there for 26 or 13 or whatever I can physically do. Yeah, I want to stay in shape but I also want to raise money for a good cause. (Well, another good cause. You'll be getting multiple requests for money this year. Sorry, it's the nature of being a good samaritan.)

So although I am close to 100% certain I will regress and simply do the half-marathon, I'm leaving myself open to the possibility. How cool would it be to casually say, "yeah, I ran a marathon"?

And plus I got all this runner paraphernalia for my birthday from my friend who found out I was considering it. So might as well put my new watch, key-holder-that-attaches-to-shoe, and pedicure materials to good use at least for a while.

Figures that the day I got all psyched about mentally and physically prepping for this, the damn gym was closed. Perhaps I should just enjoy my last weekend of pain-free knees and not feel guilty about it...

And then so timely...

This song came on. How DO you documentary a life when real life's getting more like fiction each day?

I won't see the movie though. I won't. (OK maybe I'll RENT it. Haha.)

To going against the grain, going insane, going mad...

We are spirits in a material world.

I am not making any of the following up.

Monday I went out to the balcony to water my plants. When I opened the balcony sliding door, I noticed that the plastic patio chair I keep outside was right in front of the door. I have no recollection of moving this chair, and moving it there would've been stupid anyway because it was totally in the way. I scratched my head, moved it back to its original position, and watered the plants.

Tuesday morning I woke up to an open closet in my bedroom. I have sliding closet doors, and I purposely keep them closed because Luna likes to go in and climb up my skirts and dresses, eat shoelaces, and generally cause trouble. The open doors alarmed me a little, but in my morning sleepy fog I went about my business and assumed I'd forgotten to close the doors the night before. I closed the doors before I left for work. When I got home from work the closet doors were still closed and Luna was sitting on her perch, staring at the ceiling and meowing incessantly. This is not an unusual occurance. The closet doors were closed when I went to sleep.

Wednesday morning the doors were open and a white t-shirt was laid out on the chair by the closet. I SWEAR I HAVE NO RECOLLECTION OF DOING THAT. There was no reason for it anyway, because I'd ironed something the night before that had no business being worn with a white t-shirt.

At this point, in case you couldn't tell, I was getting a little freaked out. I start to talk to the ceiling, like "um, hello up there? I'm sorry if you suffered a life ceasing event. If there's anything I can do for you please let me know, but leave me a written note (in English because I'm a lame American who doesn't know old or new foreign languages) rather than an abstract 'sign,' OK? You can write it on the mirror in eyeliner or lipstick, I won't mind." And Luna continued to meow incessantly at the ceiling.

I KNOW I closed the closet doors Wednesday night. When I woke up this morning they were open, one all the way, the other about 4 inches open.

So the conversations with the ceiling continue - in fact they're quite extensive right now - while I figure out the least expensive way to determine if I'm sleepwalking. Or if I'm crazy. Or where my next abode will be.

All of this is such an exciting change from my regularly scheduled life, though... So until the tree outside my bedroom window attacks me during a thunderstorm, I'm going to ride it as long as I can...

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Mark my words. The closet doors are closed right now.

I'm already behind on my life book.

So it's not the book with all the answers, but it WILL CHANGE MY LIFE. It contains 365 daily instructions for hysterical living (complete with sections for personal daily notes)... the hysterical part I could really use right about now.*

Being that it's the 7th day since receiving the book, and I keep forgetting to follow it by the book (no pun intended), here's a recap of what I've missed so far:

• Day 2: The Love of Your Life - where I was to look at everyone I saw as though they might be the love of my life and act accordingly. Fortunately I chose to take that day off work, so there were minimal encounters with people.
• Day 4: World Coloring-In Day - where I was to color in all the countries of the world that I've been to, I definitely want to visit, I intend to go there before I die but if I don't make it no big deal, and I never plan to step foot on. How timely that I was just talking with a friend about Antarctica on Day 3. Although that's not a "country" represented here.
  
• Day 5: Mass Social Experiment Day - placing an "out of order" sign on any public item(s) I choose, including but not limited to cranes, toilets, escalators. "The aim is to achieve comprehensive social breakdown across the U.S." Notes would've included phrases like "ALL RIGHT!!!!", "F-YEAH!!", etc.
  

Stay tuned for more progress on my hysterically-lived life. Performed on time, this time. Tomorrow is Day 8: Addiction-Free Day - where I'm sure notes will include things such as "OMG AS IF," "gaaaaarrr" and "FTS I'm getting a cup of coffee. Followed by a martini. Topped off with a crack pipe."

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* Can you say "worst day EVER?" I know that you can.

This sooooo could've been spam.

From my friend, in response to my inquiry about one of her recent vacation packages:

Apparently, the company I used for S. Africa has gone
out of business. When I called the 800 number, it was
some sex hotline. Bummer...

Today's post bro*ght to yo* by the letter U.

For most of today, for reasons which I still do not *nderstand, I co*ld not type the letter * witho*t a pop-*p box appearing which prevented me from any f*rther typing. So I had to either think of words which did not contain the letter *, or type words with an * in place of the *, or j*st type words witho*t the letter *. Which wo*ld’ve looked a little something like this:

For most of today, for reasons which I still do not nderstand, I cold not type the letter without a pop-p box appearing which prevented me from any frther typing. So I had to either type words with an * in place of the , or just type words withot the letter .

I am now amazed at how many commonly used words contain the letter U. Makes replying to an IM with "sure" damn near impossible, for starters. And then the syndrome affected the letters E and N as well, and I was just about to call it a day and go home... And then it stopped.

Respect the U. And the E. And the N. And technology. Because sometimes it just makes no sense.

Kinda like life.

It's not even that we missed the last train and had to take a cab back home...

No, it's not even that. It's that we went through the BART gates, looked at the schedule, realized that OH SHIT we just missed the last East Bay train, immediately exited the BART gates, and got $4.65 deducted from our tickets. For 3 minutes of "transit." Fucking public transportation.

Anyway! The show was fun. I especially liked her take on the space program - something about it being "welfare for smart people." And her reaction to the discovery of water on Mars... "And?? Hey, look at this, when I turn on this faucet - water!! Did you really have to go to space for that revelation??" I'm misquoting but that was the gist.

Good times. (Except for the $4.65 bullshit BART charge... okay, the $40 cab ride across the bay was no picnic either. But it was better than waiting for the creepy trans-bay bus at 1am. And a good reminder of why cars are our friends.)

A woman never forgets her age once she decides what it is.

OK, I'm officially sixteen hours into the ripe old age of 31. So far, other than being inexplicably and unbelievably tired at 4pm... I'm dealing quite nicely.

Just call me Jacqueline.

It's always better on holiday.
So much better on holiday.
That's why we only work when
We need the money.

(Uber-appropriate that this song came on as I sit here struggling with the joy that is cover letters.)

Cutting the cord: part one.

What a week. Well, what a latter half of a week. On Wednesday I had a meeting with my unpaid supervisor to discuss transitioning out of my unpaid job, which went better than I expected - and today I got good news that things are moving way faster than I could've imagined. (Hmm... I wonder if I should be concerned with how fast things are moving, actually... "Get her out of there as soon as you can!!")

Thursday I got lots of really cool stuff from my friends at my birthday lunch. And I also got bittersweet news about a project lots of us have been working on forever. "Bitter" because we've been working on it forever, but "sweet" because I realized there was no reason to go to work on Friday. After all, I had no idea what the hell I would be doing all day other than sitting there wondering what the hell I should be doing.

Today (on my unexpected day off!) I started talking one-on-one with peers at my unpaid job about leaving. Everyone was very understanding but it was actually kind of emotional - which, I guess, is not really surprising considering how much time I spend with those folks and how much respect I have for them.

Afterward, in light of that, I tried to imagine my last day at work. And I got kinda sad. But then I went back to revising my resume and the "sweet" feeling came back... Stay tuned for Part Two.

Who wrote the Book of Life anyway?

I was talking to someone today about how, back in elementary school, the "practice tests" provided answer keys in the back of the book. Remember that? And how cool it was?

How I wish that were true today. I really need some answers.

It's (past) 5 o'clock somewhere.

This is the best thing about my day today:



Sad, but true.

File under: the next time I complain about my life...

... remind me that last night I finally got around to watching Murderball. And remind me that, when all is said and done, right now I have nothing to complain about.

On second thought....

... any movie that I am still thinking about several hours after seeing it, is damn good in my mind. If I'm still thinking about it tomorrow then yes, it's worthy of all the awards its been nominated for.

I shoulda held out for "Jesus Is Magic" at the Parkway.

Today I saw Brokeback Mountain. Yeah, the acting was good. But are we really to believe that two people forge a 20-year bond during a youthful summer fling after which they go back to their regularly scheduled lives and continue to see each other two or three times a year? I don't care if you're gay cowboys, straight college kids, happily married people who see your exes at your 30 year high school reunion - I DON'T BUY IT. And even if I did - you are not being fair to yourselves or the people around you. Cut it out - or get together for good and be done with it.

Not to mention, all I kept wondering through the whole film was, "I wonder if Michelle Williams is jealous that her child's father gets to kiss Jake Gyllenhaal and she doesn't?" I know I would be if I was her.

Sigh. I think I'm officially too jaded to ever see a love story ever again.

William, It's Been Eight Months, It Really Was Nothing.

Oh, how I wish I were half as clever as many of these people.

Public service announcement.

Death Cab for Cutie on Saturday Night Live tonight.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled Saturday.

"Who is [pro-life], once you start to pay attention?"

Recently viewed:

Dark Water, which was not so interesting even though John C Reilly was in it. Usually I like anything he's in. So that was a little disappointing.

And then Happy Endings, which was really great... but not so happy. And which drove the subject of this post.

And now I have Murderball and some crazy Rob Zombie flick in my hands. I think I'll go with Everybody Hates Chris because I really need a laugh right now... and that's pretty much a guarantee with this show.

So this is the new year...

... and I don't feel any different. Thirty-one is looming over my head and I'm no better off than I was last year at this time.

But! I am hoping that by April things will start to change. I am in the process of setting some things in motion. Personal things, professional things, financial things. It will go more slowly than I would like, but if I start now I should be able to make some good headway. My friend's recent visit proved to be a very good influence on me. It was just the kick in the butt that I needed.

Overall I'm still trying to figure out what I want. But hell, the day I suss out what I do want, there'll probably be a parade. Seventy-six bloody trombones. (Name that paraphrased tune. Line. Whatever.)

So... stay tuned for new and exciting endeavors. At the risk of jinxing myself and reconsidering, I'll say that the first endeavor involves a half marathon later this year. Even if I do wimp out, it should count for something that I am really, seriously considering and planning for it for the first time... Right?

Public Service Announcement.

Attention, residents of this fine planet! I just wanted to set the record straight on something. When I'm ranting or venting or complaining or whatever word you'd like to use instead of "whining" (which, granted, is what I am doing but it makes it sound so juvenile)...

I am not seeking solutions. I'm not looking for advice, I don't want help problem-solving, I am not trying to achieve an end goal.

I AM JUST WHINING.

Please empathize, sympathize, nod and smile, and/or pat my head accordingly. But don't try to help me. That will really only serve to irritate the living shit out of me (and therefore run whining to someone else about YOU).

Thank you!

Solitary confinement.

Tonight is the first night I have had no commitments since December 15th. I have no unpaid job offsites to plan for, I have no out of town guests to entertain, and I have no deathly illness.

Tonight I don't have to figure out how to keep someone occupied for four more hours while they wait for their medication to settle so that they can eat a snack before they go to bed (hello, parents) and I don't have to listen to a one-sided cell phone conversation (hello, best friend*).

Tonight I can just do what I want. Which involves hanging out with the cat while I watch someone chastise an Antiques Roadshow contestant for buying a crappy rendition of a Civil War sword while I wait for the first part of a very interesting PBS documentary on country boy living.

YAY SOLITUDE.

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* I love my best friend. I do. She's my oldest and dearest friend and she knows everything about me. She gets all my quirks. And most importantly, she knows exactly how I like to spend a day shopping (going to every high-end store to seek out the sale racks, finding great deals and exact sizes, getting annoyed with the multitude of stupid shoppers who - like with the DMV, lose 50 IQ points when they enter a store - and gives me THE EYE to commiserate, acknowledging midway that our blood sugar levels have dropped and we really need to eat some pizza... and vice versa).

But I don't see the need for her to recount the conversation about every single action that we did each day with her significant other (which I overheard and obviously get), especially since I am so anti-all-that-crap-right-now. And I don't see the need for her to relay every minute of her conversation (which I overheard and obviously understand the gist of - blahblahblah twocentstampincrease blahblahblah Medicarepleasesignup blahblahblah youhadtofirepeople blahblahblah birthdaycakeforGrandchild blahblahblah) even after I say "yeah I know what you and your mom talked about."

I think that this is what normal people do - talk to their boyfriend and family on a regular basis. And therefore I think that I have officially become hermit material. This bothers me immensely... But at least I've got a PBS show to distract me!

Insert joke about East vs West Coast rap here. And shit.

The past two weeks have seen a serious influx of visitors from back east. My parents were here for a week. A very dear friend was visiting with his girlfriend over the holidays and I got to hang out with him in my favorite local coffee shop.* And this week one of my oldest friends is here on a consulting gig and is staying with me over the weekend.

Maybe if this keeps up I won't have to go BACK THERE ever again...

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* How nice to be reminded that EVERYONE from my hometown ends their sentences in "and shit" and swears like a fucking sailor. Really. It was just like being home - without having to actually be home.

Be born again (toll-free).

This was too funny not to publicly laugh at. Or to be publicly very, very afraid of. I now lean toward the latter.

I didn't get much farther than the following instructions on how to translate something into "Alphabetics" before starting to projectile-vomit uncontrollably:

Look before and after a word in its alphabetical listing (such as in a dictionary or lexicon). If a word (such as your name) does not occur in the listing, merely insert it alphabetically where it belongs. Sometimes you will find relevance in words tens of words away from the original word.

But I did learn from a related site that my area code means "band of soldiers" (according to whatever BDB is) or "no rebellion, no uprising" (according to whatever CLBL is). Oooooo-KAY then.

There is so much fun to be had with this. Too bad I'm now so irritated that THIS is how the bloody fundamentalists prove their completely irrational and inhumane points. I mean, Jesus F'ing Christ on a pogo stick, already.

Peachy keen, jellybean.

You know you're feeling better when you dance around your apartment singing along to "Summer Nights"* from Grease, which they are replaying on VH1 for the nine millionth time, probably this time because Kenickie is now on Celebrity Fat Club season 3. (How sad is that, a piece of my childhood has officially been ripped to shreds.) At least there's still the line, "Men are rats, listen to me, they're fleas on rats, worse than that, they're amoebas on fleas on rats. I mean, they're too low for even the dogs to bite." Gotta love that.

It's a little more upbeat than Murderball, which I got from Netflix tonight and really want to see, but which is just not as enthralling as the Pink Ladies, the young Jeff Conaway, and the infamous car chase, tonight.

Watch it - hey, I'm Doris Day.

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* When I was in 6th grade my friends and I tried out for the elementary school talent show, re-enacting "Summer Nights" from Grease. We were rejected because of the lines "did she put up a fight?", "she got friendly down in the sand" and "well she was good, you know what I
mean." How come there are no lines in that song where the GUY is a slut?

And then, during the show, after being approved by the "censors," one of the contestants did THE MOST RAUNCHY dance I have ever seen - even to this day - to some stupid song and we were all pissed because he got to feel himself up onstage OVER AND OVER AGAIN and we didn't get to do our well-thought-out routine.

We made our comeback in gym class when we did a group project - an exercise routine to a reworked version of "Shout" by Tears for Fears: "Stress, stress, sweat it all out. Stress is what we can do without. Come on, come exercise with us. Come on." To this day I cannot take that song seriously.

Knowing is half the battle.

I've been getting catalogs in the mail from Eddie Bauer for a while now. I'm really not sure why because I've never bought anything online from them. I finally wrote to them to ask that they remove me from their mailing list, and here is their reply:

As you requested, your name has been removed from our mailing list.  Because
our catalogs are printed up to three months in advance, you may continue to
receive them for a short time.

If you are interested in reducing other unsolicited advertising mail, we
recommend contacting the following organization:

   Mail Preference Service
   C/O Direct Marketing Assn.
   PO Box 643
   Carmel, NY  10512

We appreciate your help in reducing unwanted paper in support of our
environment. 

Pretty cool of them. Now YOU know too.

Bleeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh.

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From here.

What have you done today to make you feel proud?

I've had a sinus infection since Friday. (Hooray for my apparently-new new year's tradition!) Today was the first day I actually felt like eating substantial food, so on the way home from the drugstore to get more medicine, I picked up something to eat.

I'm not sure what's worse... Giving in to my Barney's craving for curly fries (plus a tofu burger) after eating basically nothing for three days... Or eating my curly fries while watching the Biggest Loser marathon on Bravo.