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Suit up!

I get a bunch of shopping spam at my work e-mail account for reasons I really don’t understand (gee… maybe all the online shopping I do on my state-mandated breaks) and most of it just gets deleted because the space in my work account is even more precious than the space in my closet, but at the same time, I sort of love it, because I can have my brain wrapped around some kind of critical analysis of a major issue, with some client screaming into my head about how I have just personally well and truly fucked them (I beg your pardon?) and then suddenly, my e-mail notice will pop up and it will be Bergdorf Goodman begging me to understand the important of accessorizing. CLUTCHES! they wail. What about the Clutches?!

It’s all about perspective.


Work has been crazy as of late. And by crazy, I mean holy shit you have to be fucking kidding me insane. I had to do a presentation to a bunch of senior management on Monday, and instead of traveling, I did it via phone at my desk, so that I could stare at my little plastic dinosaurs and tiny punk rockers and if things started getting scary, I had the option of discretely throwing up into my waste basket. It started a little shaky, with me saying “Uh” and “Um” and “Mother fucker!” but then I hit my stride and managed to not sound completely like an idiot. It helped that I wasn’t looking at the faces to go along with org chart boxes, quite honestly, and could stare at a vintage picture of Paris that I have on my wall and pretend that I was all bad ass and apparently it went well, as I haven’t been fired. Yet.


I’ve mentioned before that I always get a bit of a crush on my professors, but man, this guy? So smart! So witty! And just when you think that you can shake off the all the smart boy in glasses talking about words headiness, then he mentions that he watches Buffy! Or he wears Doc Martens to class, which when paired with a blazer with the suede patches on the elbows, apparently makes a geeky English grad student ovulate. And he’s got sort of an edge to him, like he makes fun of you in just a little flirty way and oh my it’s hard, internet, so very hard to avoid a wee bit of a crush.

Good thing I’m married. Otherwise, next week, I’d go to class wearing a shirt that said “I put out for big words”.

Yesterday, at The Grind (which is the little espresso bar inside the library) I saw a guy who looked exactly like Jim from The Office. EXACTLY. He was even as tall as John Krasinski.

Clearly, that shirt idea might be nice to have anyway. Just for such occasions.


I think I’ve mentioned this before, but if you are not watching the sitcom “How I Met Your Mother” on CBS, you’re totally missing out. Ok, so the very name makes you want to barf. It’s not the best name in the world, and the framing device is sort of stupid. But it’s got some great writing and is a true ensemble cast, and while I was utterly and hopelessly devoted to Friends, I think the writing and timing on “HIMYM” might be better. Instead of Central Perk, our new cast has the bar. Instead of a three on three male/female ratio, we’ve got a much more appropriate three guys on two girls (which are much more realistic to friend groupings, I think) and instead of sort of lamely cool secondary characters like Gunther and Janice, there is Korean Elvis and Rajeet the limo driver. Instead of overplayed “How YOU doin’?” there’s “Haaaaaave you met my friend Ted?”. And Neil Patrick Harris has well and fully erased Doogie Howser from my memory, because his Barney Stinson might just be one of my favorite characters on television right now, right up there with Dwight Schrute and Gregory House. Granted, not every episode is a winner (the recent episode involving a couple fighting was probably the worst one I’ve seen) but trust me, the episode called “Slap Bet”? Might just be the best thing to have ever happened to pop culture. Slap bet commissioners! A penis joke that was delivered so perfectly and with such spot on timing that I almost passed out, laughing so hard. And if that wasn’t enough, that episode gave us this gem:

The Season 1 DVD is out and should be available on Netflix and Season 2 should be out soon. And you can also catch up on the episodes for free on the weird CBS Innertube thing. The episode there currently, titled “Atlantic City” is a primer for the enigma that is Barney Stinson. But seriously, “Slap Bet”. It belongs in a vault, because it’s gold, baby, gold!

Ok, end of public service announcement. Synchronize your Tivos.


Last weekend was a weekend for finding things, as I found my camera charger, lost since the Saturday of the Minicon, and I found my driver’s license (lost since the Wednesday after the Minicon), and also I made the mistake of going shopping and finding a million perfect things that I absolutely had to have or suffer unbelievable anguish knowing that I had left the perfect score sitting on the shelves of TJ Freaking Maxx. So I ended up with new everything for the bed (new sheets, a new duvet, more sheets and a replacement for our mattress pad that is shredded on Esteban’s side…. proof that the man tosses and turns in his sleep at the Olympic level), some clothes, a purse, a Harajuku make up bag (because it was too cute to refuse), some Godiva stash for Esteban’s Easter basket, and a bunch of Body Butter. I also made the mistake of walking into Bath and Body Works, which is a bit like a frat party for housewives, lots of smelly things that are all on sale. The zeitgeist at Bath and Body Works always involves some gigantic sale and a million little aproned salesgirls ready to ask if you need anything or hand you a basket or tell you that if you buy 43 tubes of lotion, you get 38 free! It’s this artificial sense of urgency that bugs me and yet, at the same time, it’s the exact kind of logic that tends to suck me in. I am somewhat immune to the allure of Bath and Body Works, mostly because if I am going to spend $20 on lotion, I want it to actually be quality lotion, not the crap that is full of water and alcohol and makes your skin dryer than when you initially use it. And the B&BW stuff is just cheap drugstore crap with a lot of scent and packaging. I used to be a sucker for the White Barn Candle Company side of the store, but I no longer have candles in the house due to fear of my house burning down and the fact that they trigger an asthma attack.

But the silly little plug in things that shoot smells out the tops? Yeah, I’m hooked on those things, despite the fact that it is the stupidest waste of electricity in the world and it makes no sense at all that I demanded a HEPA-filter from the space shuttle in our new furnace but then send some kind of mystery chemical out into our home because it smells sort of like green tea and cucumbers. It doesn’t matter. I like them. I’m really a fan of the ones that smell like someone’s concept of ocean, but I also like the crazy ones, like the things that smell like hyacinth or four leaf clover, whatever the hell that is. And their eucalyptus and spearmint scent? LOVE IT. So when I found out that they were all six bucks a pop, I was doomed from the very start. Doomed!

So now I am poor. But the house smells very mossy so I guess it’s ok.

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