SR(Who Cares?) #79

It's strange. I had a #1 at McDonald's yesterday, but did not have the sudden urge to poo 30 minutes later. Has the Big Mac's efficacy as a laxative been lost on me?

ADDENDUM Haha. The #1 usually leads to a #2. HA.

SRT #78

I broke down and bought Converses. :-/

SRT #77

And I have officially been accepted into one grad school, which means that come August, I'm outta here no matter what. I received an email about three weeks ago telling me to expect an acceptance package, and while I did tell others about this happy development, I was still halfway expecting a follow up saying they had made a terrible terrible mistake. But now that I have the actual package in my possession, I can rest a little easier.

And thank god, I don't think I can take much more of the ennui that is my job.

SRT #76

Have you noticed that the more you hate on someone, the more reasons you find to hate them? I know this sounds obvious, but bear with me. Of course it's a slippery slope from casual hatred to the sheer concentrated hatred of a thousand suns, but the hatee only makes it easier as time passes. It's as though they know how my black soul feeds on hate, and when faced with decisions, they consistently chose the option that leads to the greatest amount of hate. This is unquestionable proof that God loves me and wants me to be happy.

This and beer.

This and beer and Paul Smith.

This and beer and Paul Smith and shoes in general.

Ok, there is lots of proof that God loves me and wants me to be happy, but this gift of hate is definitely number one right now.

SRT #75

Instead of going to the Sartorialist exhibit tomorrow, I am going to be dodging war protesters after work tomorrow. Not that I'm against protesting the war, it's just that weaving in and out of any protesters can make me irritable.

SRT #74

1. How are you gonna be on FaceHunter AND The Sartorialist on the same day? That's crazy talk.

2. I now drive by a homeless shelter every morning. Old homeless people are perhaps the saddest thing ever. It's disgusting how the elderly are neglected.

SRT #73

I fuckin' hate how whenever I declare embargo, my email is suddenly deluged with messages about crazy crazy sales. Why, God? WHY?!

SRT #72

I was supposed to finish up a report today.

That did not happen.

We'll see how it goes tomorrow.

SRT #71

I'm really looking forward to re-reading A Wrinkle in Time, which is included in my latest Bookswim shipment. I remember really enjoying it when I was a kid but really have no recollection of why. I must resist the urge to check wikipedia for a plot summary.

SRT #70

I am well on my way to becoming a fatty. Let me count the reasons:

1. My mom broke her arm in such a way that she is not going to work for 4-6 months. I now must take the bus home, which removes my daily 1.7ish mile walk every weekday. That's a lot of walking.
2. Over the Christmas break, I successfully got my metabolism back up. I am hungry every 2-3 hours no matter how much I eat. Without the daily walking, this is bad.
3. I love food. Someone just has to mention a food to me and I will desperately want it for the next few days. This week started out with steak, but now I need a crepe. Preferably from this place i used to go to on UPenn's campus. Perhaps I can track down a steak crepe around here.

My jeans have been feeling a little tight lately, so I need to take some preventative measures. But what?

SRT #69 (Tee hee)

Every time I walk by my boss' office, I try to catch a glimpse of the monitor. Today he is playing hearts. Good to know that I'm not the only one having an unproductive day.

SRT #68

Yesterday had a couple of random encounters.

1. In the morning, a blind guy ran into me. When I turned around ready to lash out, his blindness was apparent, and I was forced to hold in my rage. And he apologized. Jerk. How DARE he steal my moment to unleash some annoyance!

2 In the afternoon after work, a gay dude (in a cowboy hat and who seemed a little drunk already) asks me what direction Dupont Circle is. What kind of gay in DC doesn't know that? You would think he's from out of town, but a conversation ensued where he complained about his apartment being under construction and he was running away from the noise, so he's definitely from around here. This degenerated into how much work sucks and only alcohol and a strip club could comfort him. I declined his offer to come hang out at this mythical strip club. I had important tasks to put off and ignore until the last minute.


Very random.

SRT #67

Why is it that no matter what direction I am walking, the wind always blows in the direction most inconvenient to my hair? It's quite the mystery.

Also, if I was into skating, I would totally ignore all other expenses and get this.

SRT #66

Since I got out or work around noon, I stopped by the Franciscan monastery to try to take some pictures of the catacomb replicas they have. Last time I was there, I was in grade school for a field trip and shit was kinda creepy. Unfortunately for me, you aren't allowed down there without a tour guide, and the only tour guide there was an old feeble looking dude. You'd think this wasn't a problem, except that he told me that there was a policy that no tour can occur where there is only one female. Blech. I could take him in a fight. A slight breeze could break this guy's hip, but that's the policy now. Le sigh. I got some pictures of the upper church though, and perhaps I'll actually look through them before the end of time. (Most likely scenario: I go through them during my Christmas break.)

While I was checking out the upper church, I noticed two Italian looking dudes come in as well. As far as I saw, they weren't there for a tour (like me) or confession (a couple people were waiting for the priest). All they did was have little conversations in various corners of the church. They definitely did not stay in one place, but they had no interest in the church itself. They simply carried on their conversation the entire time. The occasional hug would be exchanged as well. I feel as though deaths were being arranged to look like accidents. Some shady shit was going down.

I swear they're in some sort of mafia. But mafia? In DC? I dunno...

SRT #65

One of my favorite blogs is Things I've Bought That I Love, written by the chick that writes for and plays Kelly Kapoor on The Office. Since I do not have a comparable disposable income (Though that could change if this strike never ends. God, why won't this strike end? I need my stories!), I maintain a loose mental list of Things I Wish I Could Buy That I Will Love Forever And Ever. Here's today's list:

• Solar Powered Spy Camera
• Mini Donut Maker
• Photo Hangers
• Comma Cufflinks
• Robot Necklace
• So much of Black Fleece

Some of these things I've found that I love today. Others, I've been pining over for a while. Le sigh. I must find cheaper/more accessible things to want.

SRT #64

As I was sprinkling white pepper onto my macaroni salad, I could feel my arm fat jiggle back and forth. Not cute.

I guess it's time to break out the Wii boxing again.

SRT #63

It is not yet Thanksgiving. Why do people have Christmas decorations up? Why are Christmas carols on the radio? Why do people beg for me to hate them?

These are the great questions of our time.

SRT #62

I was contemplating the Ugly that is known as sketchers the other day and was driving myself crazy trying to remember a particular catchphrase that irritated me to no end. I have suddenly remembered it:

The S is for ACTION!

There is no "s" in Action. Where the fuck did this come from? Shit drives me crazy. Is there actually an "s" in the word, and I'm just not seeing it? I've been known to miss such painfully obvious things, but I've looked and looked, and it's just not there. Please, someone explain this to me. God, this hurts my face.

Normally, I do not seek out things that hurt me in such a manner, but my cousin insulted a pair of my shoes which are SUPER CUTE, and she wears Sketchers. I'm sorry, that invalidates any opinion she can possibly have on the cuteness of shoes. I'm really bothered by this. Ugh, it really hurts my face. I'm going to comfort myself by staring at my cufflinks. I <3 them.

SRT #60

My phone/alarm clock BETRAYED me this morning and did not go off. I woke up at the time I need to be walking out the door in order to catch the last bus. So I just called in saying I would work from home today, and I actually did do some work. New and exciting, I know. In celebration of this momentous occasion, I played TF2. The End.

SRT #59

I've finally committed myself to the application process. I've asked for recommendations and shit, which means I have to do it. I'm much more productive when something is expected of me as opposed to just expecting something of myself. In most situations, painting myself into a corner is the only way for me to get anything done. Sad, but true.

So one of my professors wants to meet with me to discuss these plans. She's asked me to bring in a copy of my resume, an unofficial transcript, and a career statement. The problem is the fucking career statement. I am still blank on what to write. Is it acceptable to bring in something like:

Dear School,
I want a career that enables the buying of extravagant shoes with no financial worries and worldwide gallivanting. Let me in. I will make it happen. I'll be your best friend forever!
<3,
Catherine

Somehow, I don't think that's going to cut it. Anyways, I'll perhaps go to Philly this Friday or next Monday for this meeting. It's time to man up and do something productive. Hopefully, I can whip up something awesome, or something barely sufficient to get me into a school. Either way, I'm OK with it.