Obviously You Should Never Take A Mixed CD I Make For You

I typically mock, laugh at, and otherwise older-sister my mouth off at Bubby for her choice in music. When I inherited her laptop, complete with a full iTunes, I had to sift through about a million Avril Lavigne and Fall Out Boy songs to find anything decent to listen to (decent ended up being Chris Brown - my standards are getting weird).

Fighting about what music is going to be on has been an ongoing battle since birth. She pretty much came out screaming, "I want to listen to Rick Dees!" and then I threw up for about four years. It got to be such a problem that my Mom had to institute an every-other-song rule when we were in the car, so right after I had us listen to Cherish for the hundredth time, Bub would put on Hanson.

Now that we're adults we don't have that rule. We just don't ride together.

This being said, occasionally my emo-boy-band-lovin sister hits gold and shares it with me. And I'm quick to admit whenever she's right. So, now I am ridiculously OB-SESSED with these two videos. Not so much the songs, but the videos makes me happy in ways I can't really describe. Especially the first one.

Enjoy!

Only 93 Days Til Catalina

We're having a snow storm. AGAIN. If you need me I'll be the girl cutting myself in the corner.

Also, this whole 'protest to winter thing' where I don't wear a coat or boots out of spite (stupidity), is really not all that bad (I'm freezing to death). After a while 30 degrees feels not so bad (except where it sucks), and I'm starting to really think spring is right around the corner (it's never coming. never.)

Now Clean From The Waist Down!

Today, after hours of cursing and about $75 worth of Drano, I finally took a shower where I wasn't knee deep in ice cold water. I had grown so accustomed to standing in a pool of water when I shower that it took me a good five minutes to figure out why my feet felt weird. Oh! It's because they're not being immersed in your dirty shower water from yesterday! Happy Birthday!

I'm pretty sure my apartment is managed by some sort of Eastern European mafia so if it takes them a week and a half to get to my shower issue I don't really complain because I like my ears right where they are. Remember that homeless man who likes to camp out on my doorstep? I talked to my landlady about it and she said:
"I know. He make me so mad."
Then she leaned in conspiratorially, taking an unnecessarily strong grip on my shoulder:
"Don't worry. I handle. I take care of. You know what I mean?"
"I kind of hope not."
"Good. Between us."

Something tells me that's not the first time she's said that.

Jameson

So, on my birthday I went to kitty town (I'm not kidding that's what it's called) and thought I'd just look around, but then this handsome devil followed me around wherever I went and kept saying, "Take me home! I won't climb on your furniture, I just want you to sing to me and feed me grapes!"





So far he's pretty awesome, and he tries to eat my chocolate covered oreos which pretty much proves we were made for each other.

In other news I'm almost thirty now. And I just got a cat. Oh god.

Palmer for President in 2012!

That girl in the picture with me. . . yeah, that one on the right, she. is. here.



She got her just after 11pm and arrived to find me making her a quesadilla and pouring her a glass of wine in an attempt to lull her to sleep with a full belly so that I would not be brain dead waking up for class this morning. It worked, she went straight to bed without putting her dishes in any place that would be appropriate (note to Bub: window ledge is not appropriate dish place), but I was up from about 2am to 5am anyway. I heard a coughing noise which woke me up and I was immediately convinced there was someone outside my door, and that this person - upon hearing any slight movement from inside my apartment - would break down the door and try to stab and/or otherwise murder me and my baby sister. I was so freaked out I didn't move (or breathe) for a solid hour. Then I got up and, I kid you not, took ten minutes walking the five steps to my front door where I held my breath and cautiously peeked out my peep hole. (ha peep. hole.) After three hours of this I realized 'overactive imagination' doesn't even cover it, and that at some point I was gonna have to stop watching 24 right before going to bed. Either that or I'm gonna need more martial arts training.

Under Protest

I'm pretty logical most times. (Stop laughing) I mean, yes I kinda (read: absolutely) believe that when I knock on wood with all of my knuckles I'm maybe preventing something bad from happening. But that's not illogical, that's slight ocd. I mean I'm logical in that I turn my homework in on time so that I'll get a good grade, I go to the dentist twice a year, and I don't get in the middle of two people screaming at Tito's Tacos about how they're going to the car to get 'their backup'.

But . . . buuuuuuuuut, something about FIVE STRAIGHT MONTHS of snow and having to wear fifteen pieces of clothing at once has really started to fuck with me. Last week I decided that if I dressed for different weather, maybe different weather would appear. So I've stopped wearing boots and a coat as some sort of insane protest to Mr. Weather. So far it's not working, but I refuse to give in. It's mid-March for the love of God! I should be walking around in some dress that's way too short for me!

I told Bubby that if she brought me 80 degree weather when she comes out this weekend I would pay her a hundred bucks . . . and I mean it. And you know what's crazy? Part of me actually believes she can. Because she's just that awesome.