thoughts on thursday

NOTE: Okay, I started this yesterday, got hit with my undiagnosed ADD and never finished this post. Since I'm too lazy/uncreative to think of something else to blog about, I'm posting what I wrote yesterday. Don't like it? Tough noogies.

It's Thursday and I have nothing real to report about anything. I guess the only way to make a real entry is to do another Thoughts on Thursday.

This would look better if I was on a computer that had more than a Paint program; just pretend it looks nicer.

Thought 1:
The other library, the one I don't work in, but the one that is still connected to the building that I do work in, is closing tomorrow at 1 because of electrical issues. How lame is that? If they get to go home at 1 on a Friday, then I should be able to as well. I mean, we're all working similar jobs, we're all on the same payroll...

Actually, that's not true. Since I'm 'full-time temporary, part-time hourly', I'm on a different payroll than the real faculty and staff. But still, those are just details that shouldn't affect me getting to go home early on a Friday afternoon.

Friday afternoon, people. That's, like, the best time to get off work and still be paid for it ever.

Thought 2:
I bet UK is glad they got rid of this guy before he went and pulled this stunt and had this lovely picture of himself taken:

Check out that handsome mug.

Thought 3:
I'm 89% sure that I'm getting a wrist tattoo. What am I getting? Why, a dorky literary tattoo of course!
The quote is from Mansfield Park by Jane Austen, and I think it will look lovely on my right wrist. I have some fears of getting inked in such a visible spot, but I'm pretty confident that it can be covered up with the bracelets I wear, or a watch, or, you know, long sleeves. Problem solved.

Plus, I really like the quote and I can't see it working as well in any other spot.

Thought 4:
My little cousins are trying out for America's Next Top Model tomorrow in Chicago. I am so excited and nervous for them. They're both gorgeous, smart great girls and they totally deserve an opportunity to shine. So, tomorrow, if you're hungover and lying on the couch watching reruns of ANTM on Oxygen, send some good thoughts their way.

Yes, that is exactly how I plan to spend my Saturday afternoon.

Thought 5:
Gah, this has been a shitty post. Maybe I can save it by throwing in a few movie lines?

Carol: Ray isn't coming out of his room until he resembles the man I married.
Art: Carol, we don't have that kind of time.
- The 'Burbs

Mr Shickadance: Ventura.
Ace: Yes, Satan? ... Oh, I'm sorry sir. You sounded like someone else.
- Ace Ventura, Pet Detective

Cassandra: There's only one reason Christian girls come down to the Planned Parenthood.
Roland: She's planting a pipe bomb?!
Cassandra: Okay, two reasons.
- Saved!

a talk with the universe.

So my "Crystal, You Dumbass, Don't Buy That" list is slowly unraveling.

And, by slowly, I mean that I bought three seasons of television on DVD last night at Target because I have no fucking self control.

But, it was season six of The Golden Girls for nine dollars! You best believe that, if they had the other seasons in stock (which were all nine dollars as well, and the reason why they were sold out), I would have bought the whole series. I also purchased the first two seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer because, evidently, I want to make myself even more unattractive to the opposite sex and stay single forever. And, if that doesn't do the trick, I also bought oodles of scrapbooking supplies.

I swear, if I take up knitting, someone kill me.

As long as I don't go on a shopping spree these next two weekends, I should be able to get my savings account back on track. I was doing fine up until I got hit with a $200 pet deposit and a verbal lashing from the landlady on Monday.

This not spending money for the next two weeks should go well since I've just got approximately 20 publishers to contact/bribe/beg. I have to get published, you guys. I really believe that if you want something bad enough and if you try, then it will happen. And, maybe I should do what that book The Secret says to do and put what I want out there in the Universe.

Hey, Universe, I want to be a published author.

Okay, I've never read The Secret, but I'm pretty sure that was one of the steps. Another step probably says not to be a smart ass about the other steps.

Oh God, what if I had to give up sarcasm in order to get a book deal? Talk about Sophie's Choice...

why i hate the jonas brothers.

Whenever I make some snide comment about The Jonas Brothers (which is a rather frequent occurrence), I am always asked, "Why you be hatin' on The JoBro, bitch?".

Sadly, none of my friends actually talk like that, but the question, however grammatically incorrect and offensive, is still there.

Why do I hate The Jonas Brothers?

The answer is simple: It's payback time.

Since I was eleven years old, my taste in music hasn't mattered. It hasn't mattered because my favorite band is Hanson, and "oh, they sing "MMMBop", what do those long-haired girls know about music?"

I have been facing prejudice since I was a wee little lassie because of my brother band. You would think that I would see the dark road The Jonas Brothers are heading down and would have pity on them. Oh, they're popular right now with their TV show and concert specials on the Disney channel, but that's going to change once their targeted demographic hits about sixteen. The JoBros will essentially fall off the map. They'll probably release a few albums and a handful of singles that will go unnoticed, except by the fans who are still sticking around because, well, that first love never really fades, does it? The band will perform at small venues and state fairs and occasionally be brought up in conversation, but only as a joke.

The same has happened with Hanson. With every album release after their first, Hanson has cause nothing more than a murmur in the music world. Oh, the albums get good reviews in obscure rock magazines, but sales aren't phenomenal and... have you heard "Great Divide" on the radio? I didn't think so. Not that radio play means a lot since most radio stations just play crap these days anyway. By the general public, Hanson isn't respected. Which is just bullshit beyond belief. Did you know that they broke their contract with their record label in order to make the music that they wanted to make?

Do you see The Jonas Brothers cutting Mickey Mouse's apron strings anytime soon? Because I sure as hell don't. And that's why I hate the comparison between Hanson and The Jonas Brothers. Hanson is a stronger group. Maybe, in ten years, I'll respect The Jonas Brothers for being talented musicians.

Right now, though? Not so much. I really don't think that they have the stones to be good musicians. And, if they do have the stones, then you best believe Disney has them in a vice grip.

My other reason for hating The Jonas Brothers? Well, it's simple really. I only have room in my heart for one brother band.

Oh, and these lyrics don't do anything for me either:

"You got moves, I've got shoes, let's go dancing
Pop and lock, battle dance against Hanson
If we lose, all the girls, they'll be laughing
Where would we be, if we couldn't dream?"

Fuck you, Jonas Brothers. Listen to how a real band does it without dropping names in a stupid ass way:

mr. brown shorts

I think it's safe to say that this day has been a total waste.

Mr. Brown Shorts (my name for UPS) left a note on the apartment door Friday saying that there was a delivery for me, but I would have to sign for it. Since no one was home, the note said they would come back on Monday before 10:30. No big deal. I have a pretty good attendance record at work. They would be fine with me being a few hours late.

Besides, this is Mr. Brown Shorts, not The Cable Guy. I figured Mr. Brown Shorts would be here at 8, 8:30 at the latest, I would sign for my Psych winnings, and I would only be a hour late for work.

Oh, how optimistic I am.

It is currently 2:22, and Mr. Brown Shorts just arrived about thirty minutes ago. I admitted defeat and decided to forget work because, really, climbing the Hill for two hours of work just didn't seem worth it.

Plus, I'm pissed.

And, in the grand tradition of my bad moods, I've resulted to cleaning. It used to be that I would clean for only two reasons: 1) if I had a paper to write or test to study for and would take any diversion I could, and 2) when I'm annoyed.

Since I've graduated and don't have to write papers or take tests anymore, the only time I'm really driven to clean is when I'm annoyed about missing a day's pay to wait for Mr. Brown Shorts.

Not that I'm not grateful for what he brought me. I can't wait to wear my *FREE* tee-shirt that I *WON*. But, still. I'm a stickler about time. You can ask any of my friends. If you say 10:30, then you best mean 10:15.

Yeah, I'm one of those people. And I get it honest. My mom and grandpa are the same exact way. Although, over the years, my grandpa has got worse about it. If you ask him to be somewhere at 6, he'll be there at 4:30.

But, back to my cleaning-out-of-annoyance. I have the kitchen and bathroom in decent shape. They've seen better days, but, hey, Monk doesn't live here so I think it'll be okay for the time being. I started to clean my room and have temporarily surrendered to the mess. You see, I use cleaning as a diversion. And my diversion to cleaning is blogging. It's all very Circle of Life and whatnot.

Plus my room is disastrous. And I just don't know if I have the strength to conquer this mess.

I could read another book. That's what I did while waiting for Mr. Brown Shorts. Which makes me think that the day hasn't been a total waste. Granted, the book wasn't fabulous or anything, but filled the void that was left once The Golden Girls went off this morning. And Lord knows I have plenty of books left on my summer reading list. Say, fourteen or so.

Or, maybe I could work on my own books. I was actually writing on a first chapter yesterday. Maybe I can find that same inspiration... and end up like Blanche in this clip from The Golden Girls which sadly wasn't airing this morning:

writing and drinking, goes together like a horse and carriage

It's been so long since I began writing a novel that I have forgotten how to.

Oh, sure. I have bits and pieces to five stories and one self-help book jotted down in notebooks and saved to Word files, but I don't have an actual start to any of them. And I started writing Always the Last to Know over two years ago.

My God, did I really spend over two years writing a book? I have GOT to get a boyfriend.

I'm a writer and I don't even know my own writing process! Do other people who write have this problem? I thought that my writing process was writing little snippets then throwing it all together later (which, admittedly, isn't much of a process) but, as it turns out, all I'm able to do is write snippets, freak out over the fact that I don't know how to turn them into a story, and then take to my blog that, like, five people read (please, God, tell me at least five people read this... if not, I'm going to the next step of writing and down those jell-o shots in the fridge this instant).

The story in question is the sequel to Always the Last to Know. I would really love to start writing my NaNoWriMo since I already have the first chapter outlined so in-depth that it's practically cheating, but since I can't start that until November 1, and since I haven't figured out what paranormal angle to take for another story or two, couple with the fact that the self-help book is a collaborative project that was started ages ago by people who still don't know that they're contributing chapters, but I refuse to give up on the idea, and the other story may fall apart since I don't even know if police can do that.

I probably wouldn't freak out about this as much if I had just read On Writing and Bird by Bird like I was supposed to for one of my undergrad classes. The purpose of those reading assignments is clear, now that I want to drown my woes in congealed liquor.

Oh well, at least I have my songwriting career to fall back on. Expect to hear "The Boy at the Peddler's Mall" on the radio next month. Until then, enjoy this little ditty by She & Him entitled "I Was Made for You":

Crystal, You Dumbass, Don't Buy That!

I won a t-shirt, I won a t-shirt....

I will be ballin' in this shirt, you can't even deny it.

How did I win this shirt? Because I've been stalking Psych_USA's Twitter page for the past two days. I swear, I love free stuff so much. And, from the way it looks, I better start embracing the life of a freegan.

Okay, maybe not an actual freegan, because diving in dumpsters is icky, but I'll definitely stop buying tons of new clothes and Steve Madden shoes. Because I have to start paying $242 a month toward my student loans.

Eep.

I honestly have no idea how I'm going to do this. I'm going to start by making out a budget. Or, really, a "Crystal, You Dumbass, Don't Buy That!" List.

First thing on the CYDDBT! List is breakfast from Java City. Do I need a muffin and a Diet Pepsi? Don't those things totally rule each other out? Instead, I will actually get up when my alarm goes off, or at least closer to time it goes off, and will eat something at home. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day and I've read in various places, not just in Cosmo, that people who eat breakfast are generally thinner. I like being thinner. Or, I think I would like to be thinner. Never having been a thin person, I don't know what that would feel like.

Secondly, I will stop eating out so much. Crickey. That shit adds up real quick. I will still eat out occasionally because I really can't fend for myself in the kitchen outside of the realm of frozen dinners and spaghetti. But it's definitely going to have to slow up. And this way I will lose weight from not eating greasy cheeseburgers and munching on Lean Cuisines instead.

Craft supplies. Just... no. When you have an under-the-bed container full overflowing with stuff, it's time to stop. This is so ridiculous that I can't even make fun of it.

Number four is clothes. I have plenty of cute clothes. There is no need for me to go buy a new shirt for every time I go out to 3 Brothers. I mean, yeah, I enjoy shopping, a lot, and buying new shirts and dresses is so much fun, but I don't need those things. I can survive plenty well with what is in my closet now.

This goes double for my stupid collection of necklaces and earrings.

I would add books to this list, but I haven't bought books for a long time because I've been too broke to go on one of my half.com sprees... and my debit card barely makes it out of those things alive. Besides, I have a good collection of books that I haven't even read yet, including two Meg Cabots (yes, there are Meg Cabot books out there that I haven't read; it shocks me too), three Jane Austens, Dracula, Fight Club, and I'm itchin' to reread the quirkiness that is Georgia Nicholson's life.

And, finally, DVDs. This is going to hurt the most because I love my stories. And I love getting a good deal on movies and have a very difficult time passing up a sale. But, really, aside from, like, five movies, there's nothing that I'm absolutely dying to own right now. I can totally do this.

You will note that this list is void of alcohol. That should be a red flag that I have a problem. But it's not. It's just that my alcohol consumption is cheaper than all of these other things. The only thing it really, really costs me is my liver. And by the time that thing goes kaput, they'll be manufacturing them and practically giving them away.

Homer Knows Best...

psych out!

Most of my friends have heard me gush about Psych at one point or another. Why? Because this show is amazing. And is totally bringing back the fist-bump.

Shawn and Gus bobble-heads, for your inner Dwight Schrute.

For those of you who have sadly missed out on these past three seasons, let me catch you up to speed. Shawn Spencer, with his attention to detail, killer memory, and stellar eyesight, poses as a psychic and, with the help of his buddy Gus, solves crimes with/for the Santa Barbara Police Department.

It's kind of like The Mentalist. Only Psych came first. And is funnier. And has an awesome cast. Sorry Simon Baker.

I've been with this show almost since the beginning and will forgo my Friday night plans (shut up, some people out there may not know that I lack a social life) to stay in just to see what kind of pop cultural references these guys will come up with that I may or may not get.

And, because I've totally ran out of steam, be sure to watch Psych this Friday, 10pm EST/9pm CST on USA.

thoughts on tuesday

The main program we use at work is down this week for maintenance and I have a lot time to think when, really, I should be learning how to spell the word 'maintenance' without the use of a spellchecker.

And, taking a note from Shannon, I'm going to make some snazzy alliterative theme for this entry. Like her 'Things I Love Thursday' or 'Not Me Monday', this is going to be 'Thoughts On Tuesday'.

***Let's pretend that there's a really nice graphic right here to go along with this blog entry. When I get home today, I'll make one, I promise. ***

Thought Numero Uno:
Why has no one given Gary Busey his own reality show yet? Who would not watch that shit go down? Ratings will be astronomical if someone just followed Gary Busey around 24/7. Better yet, just give him his own station. GBTV: All Gary, All Crazy, All the Time. When he's sleeping or something, they can show movies like Rookie of the Year and Lethal Weapon. Scoff all you want, but you know that you love Rookie of the Year.

Henry: Pitcher's got a big butt, pitcher's got a big butt!
Rookie of the Year

Now, be honest, don't you want to turn your TV on in the middle of the night to see that face screaming back at you?

Thought Numero Dos:
I saw a hawk on campus this morning. At least, I think it was a hawk. I'm not exactly an expert woodsman or bird picker-outer or anything, but I'm pretty sure it was a hawk, and the Google image search I just done mostly confirms that. This thing was a fucking beast. It was walking around on the ground and I guarantee that thing came up past my knee. Being so large, you would think that the hawk wouldn't have been scared off by three black birds, which brings me to my thought... why are there so many black birds on this campus? It's like living in an omen. Seriously, it's made me totally paranoid that something bad is going to happen any minute. Like a bird pooing on me or something.

Thought Numero Tres:
Why am I counting these thoughts off in Espanol?

Thought Numero Cuatro:
Why does a cabin that has a heart-shaped jacuzzi one of the few that can be rented by people under the age of 25, but the other cabins without heart-shaped jacuzzis require you to be at least 25? Not that I object; I'm actually excited about staying at a place that has a heart-shaped jacuzzi just because I didn't think those kinds of things actually existed in the real world. Plus, it makes me laugh. A lot. I mean, look at it!


Thought Numero Cinco:
Oh my God, I really did post a picture of Gary Busey and a picture of a heart- shaped jacuzzi in the same entry. This cannot mean good things.

you shut your mouth when you're talking to me

I am never drinking again until I drink again.

My headache caused by last night's festivities which resulted in my decision to walk home barefoot in the rain through the ghetto, only ceased a few hours ago. Ditto the horrible feeling of nausea.

My feet, aside from the ghastly blisters on my heels, are fine. I think. The ghetto sidewalks seemed surprisingly clean for a Saturday night. But that could have been because I never got a good look at the ground since I was drunk and trying to text someone while carrying an umbrella. Needless to say, I got rained on. A lot.

I woke up this morning to discover that I had totally crashed mid-text conversation. Oops. I've spent the rest of my day on the couch watching Friends, sleeping, trying to keep down food, then watching Legally Blonde and the bulk of The 40-Year-Old Virgin on TV and pined over Luke Wilson and Paul Rudd, as is my nature. Actually, I prefer Owen to Luke, which is weird since I tend to like dark haired, dark eyed guys and Owen is blond with blue eyes. And he's in Wedding Crashers, which is one of my favorite movies...

Don't judge me. I love Wedding Crashers. Oh, and in imdbing Owen Wilson, I just discovered that they're making another Meet the Parents installment. This one is called Little Fockers. No, I am not kidding. Also, I'm kind of excited about it. I've missed Owen Wilson being in funny movies.

Jeremy: Have you even shot one of these things before?
John: The whole 17 years we've known each other I've been sneaking off to go on little hunting trips around the world. No, I don't even know what the fuck a quail is.
- Wedding Crashers

To end this mad rambling on a good note, let's throw in another picture of Owen Wilson, just for good measure.