Off To A Weird Start

I thought it would be more interesting to tell you about this crazy dream I had last night than to do a more traditional New Year's post and share that this year's resolution is to "Love My Job." That theme is a little tired. But dreams! Now that's exciting stuff!

I am one of those fortunate fools that can remember their dreams. I've always loved this about me because my dreams are CRAZY!! (But one of the many many reasons I enjoy sleeping so much.) Typically they are pretty wild featuring lots of chasing and fighting. My favorites are where I'm punching the hell out of somebody. It's so out of character for me, that I find it very satisfying. I'm a bit of a badass.

In last night's dream I had an ATM card that would gift me with thousands of dollars in quarters every time I swiped it. After a few swipes the bank figured out that I was being gifted with this money (for some reason they called it "stealing." The nerve!) and had put the kabash on me ever using it again. Even though I was forbidden to use it I still had the card and wanted to see if it would still work. (One does this type of crazy nonsensical stuff in dreams). So I swiped it between the grates of an air grille and quarters instantly came spilling out everywhere!

No sooner did the quarters start making a nice little pile than my phone rang. The caller ID showed that it was the police! I didn't answer (duh!), but I knew that THEY knew that I had swiped the card again, and they were coming after me.

Scared to death, I high-tailed it out of my apartment. Not stopping to grab anything ... I just ran. I ran all the way down the street, into Rock Creek Park, through various neighborhoods, dodged behind some school buses as I watched cop cars patrolling the area, before finally making it to a train station where I hopped on a train.

It was at this point where I realized that I hadn't brought anything with me. No money, no phone, no magic ATM card. Nothing. I started freaking out (even more than I was already freaking out). But then I thought, "Calm down, it's ok. Just call Mom and Dad. They'll wire you the money for the train ticket to Colorado. It'll be ok. It'll be ok." And I started to relax.

But then I remembered I didn't have my phone. I'd left it at home with everything else. Blast! I reluctantly asked to borrow one from the woman sitting behind me. With the phone in my hand I started to dial, but then remembered that my parents no longer live in my childhood home in Colorado ... and I had no idea what their new phone number was. For that matter, since all numbers are stored in my phone and not in my brain I didn't know ANYONE's phone number! I had no idea how I was going to pay for my train ride, let alone where I should go, or who I could get to help me. I was entirely alone in the world. A huge family, tons of friends, and I couldn't contact any of them. That's a really scary feeling, friends.

With the conductor closing in on me, I thought I was lost. He would kick me off the train. The police would catch me. My life would basically be over. I HAD to stay on that train! But with no money and no one to call I couldn't see how.

But then, like a flash I realized that I could be saved by the most unlikely of sources: Online Shopping! Doing so much online shopping has drilled my credit card number into my brain. I was saved! I knew all of that shopping would become really handy some day! I happily drifted out of the dream repeating that blessed 16-digit number over and over again, knowing that everything would turn out all right so long as I had a credit card number. The end.

I'm now putting myself through a regimen of memorizing my family member's phone numbers, and stashing cash and credit cards around the city just in case this dream ever comes true. My dreams have come true before, so it's best to be prepared.

Isn't Starbucks That Guy on Battlestar Galactica?

I've been neglecting my blogging duties. I apologize. But I'm soooo tired. I've been trying to get to work earlier ... and it has completely wiped me out. My body loves the nightlife. It loves to boogie. It thinks being an early bird getting the worm is disgusting. And it also happens to believe that my alarm clock playing a supporting role in whatever weird dream I happen to be having when it goes off at 6AM.

But on the other hand, my body also really likes getting home earlier in the day. So I get up.

Consequently, I have been stumbling around like a damn fool until it gets to be around 11 or so and I can have a Diet Coke. I can't have any soda earlier in the day, otherwise, ugh ... rotgut. So at any given moment between 7:30 and 10:45 this is my thought pattern:

I am so tired.

I wish it was time for my Diet Coke.

It is so unfair that I don't have a bed in my cubicle.

Man, I'm tired.

If only someone would invent a caffeinated breakfast drink.

...

.... (Fantasizing about what this wonder drink would be like. Fruity? Oatmealy?) ....

...................

Wait a minute. They already did, it's called coffee. You've heard of it ... the most popular drink of ALL TIME! moron.

Holy cow, I'm so tired. My brain is completely gone.

The sad part about this story, is that I'm not joking in the slightest. Almost every single day I think about this, always somehow forgetting about coffee. Caffeinated breakfast drink, indeed.



[Although seriously, I think this would be a good idea ... something suitable for breakfast that would have about as much caffeine as a Diet Coke. You know a nice little perk up drink, not one that turns your cardiovascular system into that of a rabbit's. And while I'm making up perfect requirements, lets have it be calorie/fat free. Drinkmasters of World, get on it. And don't forget me when doling out royalties.]

Mad Season

All right you guys, confessional time. Brace yourselves.

One of my least favorite things about myself is my inability to be irrational. Like, you know those people who are able to flip out and act all crazy when they are upset? That isn't me.

But sometimes, I really really wish it were. Sometimes when I'm angry or upset I would love nothing more than to cry until mascara streaks down my face. Or maybe punch a wall or break plates or something. But nope. About two minutes into a passionate frenzy, my rational brain rolls its eyes and asks, "Is this really necessary?" To which I reply, "Nah. Probably not." And that's it. Tantrum over.

This sucks because sometimes you really just want to be able to fly off the handle and throw the entire contents of your closet out of the window and afterward just shrug your shoulders and say, "What? I was mad."

Being level-headed and emotionally mature is so boring.

Hottie McHotterson

Several years ago my friends and I each picked our Top Three Most Attractive famous people. I'm sorry to report that in my opinion these girls had really bad taste in men. But we were young, we all make mistakes.

Our friend Libby, for example, picked Alan Rickman. You might remember him in all of his pasty glory as Severus Snape. I think Alan Rickman is a fine actor, and I really enjoy watching his films, but if I were picking my TOP THREE hottest men ... no, definitely not. But, then again Libby also had a "poo rag" which she used for quite some time, and so perhaps her judgment shouldn't be anyone's guiding light.

My brain has turned to a pile of mush and I can't remember who made my original top three, and so instead of trying to remember I decided that I should just pick again. You must tell me your three too! Most of the fun of this game is to laugh at who other people think are hot. (Camie, if Adam Sandler is still on your list I really might vomit.)

And so, without futher ado ....

Third Place goes to:

Hugh Jackman

He sings, he dances, he's Australian! One thing we're going to be seeing over and over again is a man with an accent. I loves me an accent. I think Hugh might have been on the original list ... I'm not sure, but I was looking for pictures of my previous Third Place choice, when I ran across a picture of the dashing Mr. Jackman. I immediately ousted #3 and put Hugh in his place. I do really, really love him.

Consequently, serving as an Alternate to Mr. Hugh Jackman's Third Place position is ...

Daniel Craig

I had to give Daniel Craig some props because I can't really remember a time when I've been so bowled over by the unbridled hottness of an actor as I was when I saw Casino Royale. If you haven't seen it, you must. Just know that when you leave the theater all other men will be a little less manly in your eyes.

If Daniel Craig fails in his alternate duties, there is a second alternate ....

Mr. Clive Owen

He's a saucy one, that Clive. Plus I really like his name. Clive. When this old man played knick-knack-patty-whack on five, he came up with one babe of an actor. I also really like that Clive is married to a normal looking lady. That's another common thing with most of the men on my list, they're all happily married. I find the fact that these men are happily married incredibly attractive. I'm weird.

Ok, so enough with the alternates.

In Second Place:

James McAvoy

You might say, "WHO?" Let me school you. This newcomer is rocketing up my list. I first loved him in Becoming Jane, but every time I see him in something new it justifies his presence on this list again. He's completely adorable. And his blue eyes are sinful. Plus, he also shares a quality with my #1 man. He can look really, really bad. Like "This is your #2? Explain yourself" bad. For some reason, when he looks bad, it just makes him even more attractive when he looks good. He's like a foil for himself. It's awesome. I mean, David Beckham looks good all of the time, but where's the fun in that? Every time you looked at him you'd be like, "yep. still hot. this is so boring." Hanging around him would just be depressing. Hanging with James, on the other hand would be exciting and completely wunderbar.

And now, for my #1 Most Attractive Famous Person

Ewan McGregor

I have loved him for a long, long time. He may have been my #1 in my previous list, but I won't swear to that. He's got it ALL going for him: accent, happily married, can look really bad (hello Obi Wan? What happened there?), but can also look SO, SO, SO G-O-O-D! My sister thinks that he's contractually obligated to either sing or take his pants off in every film he makes. I say, Mores the Better! He's free to do whichever he wishes, it won't dethrone him from being my #1 man. I Heart you, Ewan!

Who are your three? (PS. Please don't say Brad Pitt, I don't want to have to divorce you as my internet friend.)

The Postman Always Rings Twice, I Just Don't Answer

When I was a kid I thought getting mail was the shiz-nit. Having no particular reason to receive mail except for on my birthday (no pen-pals or whatnot), my mom used to let me have all of the "Resident" mail. This was, of course, nothing but meaningless crap. But to me, those worthless mailers somehow established me as an individual in my crowded house. If the Post Office knew about me, well then, that was really something! I was never one to get hung up over the fact that the mail I got to open didn't actually have my name on it, or in any way indicate that the Post Office had a clue who I was. To me it was enough to open my "letters" and flaunt my importance at being such a snazzy mail-getting individual in front of my siblings.

Somewhere along the way I managed to establish myself in the Post Office's eyes, and now I get loads of meaningless crap with my name emblazoned all over it. It's one of the great ironies of my life that nowadays I really can't be bothered to read any of it.

For several years now I've made a practice of storing up all of my mail for the entire month. I do a cursory glance through when I pick it up - just to make sure there isn't anything odd I need to pay attention to (like photo-cop traffic tickets - damn them!). And then at the end of the month, generally around bill-paying time, I'll sit down to an orgy of coupons and J Crew catalogs.

People generally look at me funny when I mention that I can't go out because I have to read my mail. But there are many pros to this plan.

1. Time-sensitive offers (50% off THIS Weekend ONLY) hold no sway over me
2. One time trash run, instead of slowly filling up the bin
   
3. Able to compare and contrast fashion catalogs more easily
4. Bills and statements are all in one spot and can be easily stuffed in their drawer en masse
5. Don't get caught up reading a new catalog when I should be doing something important like watching Seinfeld reruns.

I really enjoy procrastinating my mail reading. Recently though, I've been a bit too neglectful and didn't keep to my usual monthly schedule. The last time I read it was at the end of May. Which means I haven't paid any attention to my mail for the ENTIRE SUMMER!



Staring at this pile is a bit daunting. (don't worry, no bills in there -- I hope -- I'm all auto-pay these days. It's fantastic. If you haven't turned over your responsibilities to the internet yet, might I strongly suggest that you join us in the twenty-first century? It's quite lovely here. Lovely and responsibility free.)

I suppose I should get started going through this pile. I'm sorry if you've sent me any cards or other bit of friendly mail this summer. I promise that once I've excavated it you'll get lovely reply sometime before the New Year. I'd promise to get it to you earlier, but it might take a solid week to make it through this pile. After which, I'm sure I'll be so sick of printed material I'll have to take a break from it for a few months. Then I can write you back. Or maybe I'll just send you an email. Yeah, email sounds much better.

Tomorrow I'll Be Calling Out Fat

It starts as a general feeling of discontent. I fidget. I cross my legs one way, then switch. I sigh. I look in the cupboard. Nope, nothing there. I check my email. Just spam. I look in the fridge. Nothing there either. I go back and sit on the couch and try to read ... but it's no good. I need something. I'm not sure what it is ... but I need it.

And then, from nowhere a whispering thought comes into my mind, "How long has it been since your last cheeseburger?"

"Too Long! Too Long!" I cry.

It's as if the clouds of my discontent are parted, and angelic light streams from the great cheeseburger in the sky. Of course! I need a cheeseburger. And fries. Lots and lots of fries. Oh, and a Diet Coke. Hooray!

Having finally pinpointed the source of my discontent, I practically fly to Five Guys, my burger joint of choice. And there I find satisfaction with my life as I eat about 4000 calories worth of burger joint food and finish a book. I'm glowing with satisfaction! It is close to perfect. In fact, the only thing that marred the experience was that Muzak played "Freebird" for what felt like 38 minutes. That song kinda sucks. May I never be caught requesting it at rock concerts again, even if it is just to be funny. If the band actually took me up on it, I'd be pissed that I'd wasted my request on crappy Freebird when I could have used it on something like "She's Like the Wind." Now that would be perfect.

Nap Attack

It's very important for me to be properly rested. Sadly, there's no wild-child lifestyle for me. No rocking out til the break of dawn and whatnot. Without my requisite 8 there can be no functioning. And I mean it. My body goes into active rebellion and there is NO FUNCTIONING. When this happens no amount of caffeine or exercise will stop the inevitable. The impending nap will not be denied.

Now, I'm not talking about your run of the mill Give Me 40 Winks and I'll be Ship-Shape Nap. Nor is it the I've Just Eaten the Entire Buffet at Circus Circus and Am Slipping Into A Food Coma Nap. This is a Mega Nap. A pending on narcolepsy nap. A "You better find someplace to lay down in the next thirty-two seconds or LIKE IT OR NOT you'll be crumpling to the ground like a bag of Jello and complete strangers will see you drooling in the middle of this grocery store aisle while you take this nap" Nap.

These naps are very serious business.

I remember one particularly violent nap attack in college. It was all I could do to withstand the remaining minutes of my class before I stumbled outside of the building and collapsed onto the grass, a mere 6 inches from the sidewalk. Oddly, while I was sleeping I could hear upperclassmen walking by and commenting on the spectacle I was making of myself, but The Nap would not be denied. And I had to just keep on sleeping until my body deemed itself to be back within "functioning range". I ended up sleeping there for about 3 hours. Waking up, I was glad to see that I only had an earring silhouette sunburn and wasn't covered in silly string as I had feared.

Clearly, this little napping issue of mine can be inconvenient at times. So like most disabilities I've had to learn to live my life managing it. The first thing, obviously, is to stay well rested. I am consequently an Olympic Sleeper. My duvet cover has a sleeping Bald Eagle and my slogan "Sleeping For America" emblazoned on it to cheer me on. But every so often I do still get spells in which a nap must happen. To manage these, I always scout out my places of employment for suitable napping spots. To be suitable, it must be easily accessible, weather resistant (or provide summer/winter options), and if at all possible my boss should never ever see me in it lest they be tempted to fire my ass for sleeping on the job. Even though, it's like totally not my fault.

In the past, these are the places I have resorted to regularly:

• The most excellently comfortable couch on the Asian Studies floor (used to be the 1st floor) of the BYU Library
• Under my desk
• On the BYU, University of Maryland, or National Malls
• The floor of any carpeted hallway (the Humanities Building at BYU was a great favorite)
• The sound recording studio of the Humanities Research Center
  
• The East Asian Studies room of the University of Maryland Library (despite the short couches)
• My car in parking lots, drive ways, park-n-ride lots, highway shoulders, or neighborhood streets
  
• Park benches
• Empty office cubicles
• Grassy flat spaces, such as those non-parks that urban planners put on busy corners
• Grassy medians between highways/busy streets
• And if I'm very lucky and I can make it home, my bed.

Libraries are a favorite for the obvious reasons: plenty of quiet, lots of places to tuck yourself away, and people expect you to be asleep. Especially in the Asian Study Rooms. This is but one of the reasons I became a librarian - built in nap rooms! If there's no library handy though, I'm a sucker for any flat grassy spot. If I'm not likely to get killed or mugged and it's flat and grassy, you can bet that I'll be asleep on it. I don't really prefer hallways or office spaces because they're loud and you're in the way ... which I always feel guilty about once the nap funk clouding my brain has dissipated and I can feel proper amounts of shame and self-respect again.

But ideally, the best scenario is to be at home in the peace and quiet of your own room. And I am very happy that today's nap attack was close enough to home that I had enough time to drive erratically down the block, peel around the corner, ride the elevator upstairs, get into my apartment, change my clothes and collapse into my bed before falling into a 4 hour episode. Standing in line at the bank, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to make it. Count. Money. Faster. IDIOT!!

I feel much better now.

Early Onset Alzheimers

I find it funny that there are things I forget about myself. For example, I regularly tell people that I don't have any allergies. When in fact I am allergic to kiwi fruit. If I eat one, my ears and back of my throat itch uncontrollably and sometimes my gums bleed, which I'm assuming means that I'm allergic. I haven't been officially diagnosed or anything - but it seems like a no-brainer. (I remembered this rather violently this weekend when I thought it would be fun to eat a kiwi.)

I also forget that I have scoliosis. On those forms that ask for your medical conditions I blithely write down "none" all the while forgetting that I do have one, even if it's such a mild case that it takes a team of nurses staring cockeyed saying, "Hmmm. What do you think, Ethel? It does look a little bit curved." This was extremely traumatizing for me as a pre-teen since it involved me without my shirt on in front of the PE teacher and school nurse. No wonder I've blocked it.

I also forget my blood type. Actually I'm not sure if I ever knew it. I should put this on my list of things to find out.

Sheesh! If I ever get married I supposed I'll have to cut my husband some slack if he can't remember things about me because apparently *I* can't remember things about me. And I'm supposed to be the expert!

Good Day, Bad Day

The difference between a good day and a bad day is really the level to which I stick to my ideal routine. If I stick pretty close to it, then I count that as a good day. If my inner sloth takes over, well then, not such a good day. Here's a typical workday:

GD: Wake up somewhere between 7AM and 8AM - This is flexible because I usually allow myself to wake up whenever I'm ready. (I assume that there'll be a point in my life where this won't be an option ... so I'm taking advantage of it now).
BD: Wake up anywhere after 8:30 AM, causing me to be really ridiculously late.

GD: Make lunch. Eat breakfast (or pack it to take along).
BD: Don't do either

GD: Walk to the Metro to catch my bus. Bonus points if there's a copy of The Express Mag in my lobby. Even more bonus points if I catch my bus right away.
BD: Too lazy/late to walk, and end up driving to work and paying for parking.

GD: Plenty to do at work keeps me busy and engaged all day.
BD: Not too much to do at work makes the highlight of my day my daily Diet Coke. (to be fair, that's a highlight even on a busy work day.)

GD: After getting home from work, doing something productive with my evening. This can include going out with friends, going to the gym, a church activity, going to the library or grocery store, etc. Bonus points for doing housework such as making dinner or cleaning one or more things in my house.
BD: Taking a nap or watching TV. Reading all evening is marginally acceptable - but I still feel like a half a slacker.

GD: Getting to bed before 11PM. Getting to sleep before midnight.
BD: Reading into the wee hours of the morning.

You see, it really isn't so hard to have a good day. It's basically the difference between behaving like a responsible adult and a lazy teenager. But you'd be surprised at how easy it is to slip into BD behavior. So the question is ... what can keep me motivated? Anyone bottled a cure for laziness?

A Word Please

Sometimes a word gets stuck in my brain, and when I'm not actively thinking about anything else the word rolls around and around my brain ... much like a screensaver. There it is -- scrolling along. Over and Over again:

Muffintop

(Maybe my pants are too tight.)

One Ring to Rule Them All

Young Hadley reminded me of the pleasure of a simple favorite thing. My favorite thing is my Rose Ring. Imagine the picture below as a beautiful pepto-pink and you'll get an idea of what my ring looks like. But they say the the value is not in the having but in the getting - and so let me share the tale of Gretchen of the Ring. (By the way, I apologize in advance to Tolkein fans).

My quest for The Rose Ring started when it caught my eye in my Lucky mag. When I saw that it was only $6 I immediately went to Middle Earth (FredFlare.com) to get one for myself. But some fashionable Dwarves got there first and bought them all for their fat-fingered masters. Discouraged, I thought my quest was doomed, and I would never be a keeper of The Ring.

But good things come to those who wait. And before long I was on my way from Mordor (Washington D.C) to The Shire (Portland, OR). And there it was. Snuggled safely in some unassuming shop in downtown The Shire. Without raising any suspicions I smugly slipped it onto my finger and paid the shoplady.

Little did that silly woman know what she had. A ring that fits perfectly on my Jimmy Dean fingers! A ring that makes every outfit cooler! A ring that garners compliments on all sides! This is the Ring to Rule Them All! And now it is mine. All mine. My precious, precious Ring.

Decisions that Count

After years of internal (and sometimes external) debate, I've finally made a very vital decision. If I had to choose whether or not I'd be Blind or Deaf, I definitely choose Deaf.

Being deaf would certainly be inconvenient, but it wouldn't cripple my life the way being blind would. How could I survive without having a book or three in the works? How would I do my desk jockey work? How could I blog? Without my sight I'd be out of work and bored.

So, you ask, why now? Why have I suddenly made my final decision on this issue? It's all due to a spate of binge reading in low light. My eyes are feeling strained (however not strained enough to need glasses yet - this is an awkward period). Contemplating eye failure has left me in a state of distress! How could I cope with my life as it is without being able to see? Everything I do relates to seeing and reading. My work, my entertainment ... everything! Not being able to see is unthinkable.

I'll miss not being able to hear, and I'll hate to give up my iPod. But Reading is my passion, the one thing I continually turn to, the one (and only) thing I favor over sleeping and eating. In short, Reading is the love of my life, and given the choice, who would give up the love of their life?

Relative Hilarity

I think I'm pretty damn entertaining. As a matter of fact, I think I'm one of the most entertaining people I know. In idle moments I'll think about funny things I've said or done, and it makes me think, "Gosh! I'm just so darn entertaining! How lucky I am that I can be constantly entertained by ME!" And then I read my blog entries over and over and revel in my entertainingness.

But let's not make this about me. For a brief moment in my selfish life, let's look to others who also entertain me. Of course there are the professional entertainers - can't get enough of Demitri Martin, for example. But looking closer to home, my little brother Derek is a terribly entertaining fellow. His antics put me to shame! I don't get to see or hear nearly enough from him since he lives in Portland OR and hasn't been able to master the concept of time zones. But when I do there's sure to be some jewel of entertainment, such as:

Why do cancer kids always have names like "Landon"? It's like cursing your kid to have cancer if you name him something like that.

or

Hey! I'm glad your coming out because I sold you to one of the Mexican prep cooks at work. I figured you would fetch the highest price because of your bilingual abilities. It will be cool. Cruz is his name and he is about 4 feet tall and he works out. He has a little bit of a temper, but I am sure you could tame him.

The kid makes me laugh full-belly laughs. So I'm glad there are other entertaining people in this world that I can look to in case I ever tire of looking at myself. (Don't be a hater, that might happen. One day.)

Grammar Peeve

While busing to work I love to read the BlogLog in the Washington Post's Express magazine. Today they had a grammar peeve about the sentence "I'm doing good." I'd like to give a hearty "hell yeah" to that, and add my own grammar peeve.

I absolutely cannot stand it when people say "Where are you at?" Even worse is the ghettified "Where you at?" I have heart palpitations whenever those ridiculous Verizon walkie-talkie commercials air. They say "Where you at" about 86 times in 30 seconds. Torture, I tell you. Torture.

I know that my grammar isn't 100% perfect all of the time. So there's a little he-who-is-without-sin-cast-the-first-stone going on here - but COME On. Can we just, for the sake of humanity and my nerves leave that little "at" off? "Where are you?" is sufficient.

Thank you for your support. In return, tell me your grammar peeve and I'll try to accommodate.

75 Things That Make Me Who I Am

Erin posted 75 things that make her her - and so here's my attempt at the same.

1. No matter how tired I am, I always read before going to bed.
2. One of my favorite guilty pleasures is reading all night, or at least until I fall asleep with the light on.
3. I wish I was the kind of person that knew my mailman's name.
4. At a new restaurant it takes me a long time to choose what I want, but every time after that I usually get the same thing.
5. I'm creative, but not in the way I wanted to be. (Can one make a living by creating the Work Density Measure?)
   
6. I have no "talent show" talents.
7. I worry that I won't handle difficult challenges gracefully.
8. I'm religious, but I don't like to talk about it.
9. Missionary work is my least favorite topic.
10. A cute outfit can make my whole day better.
11. I love the word "persimmon".
12. I'm a story-aholic. I'll pick up a new book immediately after finishing the first. I think of it as similar chain-smoking, lighting the next cigarette off of the last.
13. In my dreams I remember other dreams I've had. It's almost like an alternate life. Sometimes I get these lives confused and think I've done things that I haven't.
14. I watch TV with a blanket on me. Always. Even in the summer.
15. I don't like watching TV when its sunny. It feels wasteful.
16. I've been known to avoid people I know when I see them in public. It's an instinctive reaction and can be pretty dramatic. I'll turn around abruptly, or go into a building, or if I'm at home I'll hide under my covers.
17. I agree to do things I have no intention of doing, with the assumption that the asker won't follow up. I almost never get burned on this.
18. I like restaurants with short menus.
19. Mexican food is my comfort food.
20. I am not a collector. I don't like anything that much. (except maybe books, but I check them out).
21. I will not shop at gift shops.
22. I almost always wish I could share whatever I'm doing with someone, a friend or family member. But it depends on what I'm doing as to who I'd like to have with me.
23. I'm very independent. I'm often alone, but not usually lonely.
    
24. Charles, my stuffed penguin that I got when I was 12, is the only item I own that is truly irreplaceable. (except maybe my grandmother's china)
25. I am a chameleon. I take on the traits of others when I am with them.
26. I am a night owl.
27. I rely on my smile for a large part of my confidence.
28. I am good at talking to people, but as a formerly shy kid, I'm still scared. Even, sometimes, talking to good friends.
29. I enjoy public speaking.
30. Money has always been a motivator for me. Must not be a very good one though, since I'm pretty lazy.
    
31. My sense of humor and wit are my favorite things about myself.
32. There will always be something physical I don't like about myself. But I usually get over it and move onto something else to not like after a while.
33. I don't like doors slamming.
34. I have a math phobia.
35. I like children, but commercials where they make messes drive me crazy.
36. I'm a bad driver.
37. Like Erin, I believe in stereotypes.
38. I'm incongruently frugal. I'll happily plunk down $40 on a dinner out, but then dither over whether I should get the $1.50 or the $1.79 can of beans.
    
39. I greet my car and my house every time I see them. eg. "Hola Casa mia!" (my house speaks Spanish).
40. I am a HUGE self talker. HUGE. I actually have to tell myself (outloud) to stop talking to myself.
    
41. I hum when I'm eating food I really enjoy. Sometimes I'll dance in my chair and wave my fork around too.
42. I like to floss.
43. I like to dance.
44. I think I'd be less interested in alcohol if it didn't come with such fun bar ware.
    
45. I'm the 5th of 7 kids, and as the oldest of the second batch of kids I think I've got the best spot in the family.
46. I don't like to play team sports. Especially volleyball.
    
47. I love to ice skate.
48. I love to watch movies and don't feel weird going to them alone.
49. My favorite movie snack is chocolate covered peanuts. (dark chocolate if you've got it).
50. I love dark chocolate, and think white chocolate is an abomination.
51. I love strawberry ice cream.
52. I like pink, orange, and yellow best, but I like all of the colors.
53. Definitely Diet Coke over Diet Pepsi.
54. Chicken Lollipops and Lemon-scented Crepes are my signature dishes.
55. I cry very easily. Don't be distressed if you see me crying, it's probably nothing.
56. I hate snakes. I watch snake shows on Discovery Channel to try to cure my phobia. It's not going very well.
57. I like maps. I need to know where I am on a map to feel like I'm really there.
58. I like history and architecture.
59. Rather than going to the standard tourist spots, I like to walk around neighborhoods when I visit new cities.
60. I absolutely love having my own apartment.
61. I love listening to the evening edition of Marketplace. I especially like the theme music.
62. I will never get a tattoo. Not because I think they are bad, but because I could never pick anything I'd like enough to have on my body for forever. I'm way too fickle.
63. I have tiny ankles and wrists. I'm very proud of them.
64. As a former mountain girl I'm surprised at how much I love the ocean. In the spirit of #39I speak French to the sea, but since I don't know too much French it's a short conversation.
    
65. I don't like pets. I'm considering faking an allergy so I don't ever have to have one.
66. I love beautiful fruit and vegetables. The kind you get at a good farmers market - not at Safeway.
67. I hate knick-knacks.
68. I love when my house is clean, but I don't like to clean it.
69. I love technology and the Internet. Can't wait to see where it goes next.
70. 32 is the age I've always wanted to be.
71. I prefer British phrases to American ones. (eg. "take away" vs. "carry out")
72. I judge people on their English and grammar.
73. The longer I'm out of school the dumber I feel.
    
74. The worst job I could have would be being a door-to-door salesman. I would HATE that.
75. I have a high level of tolerance. But when I'm done, I'm done.
    

Just in case you didn't know ...

I'm Superman!

Superman ------> 85%
Spider-Man ------> 85%
Wonder Woman------> 60%
Supergirl ------>60%
Robin------> 60%
Green Lantern------> 45%
The Flash------> 45%
Iron Man------> 45%
Hulk------> 40%
Batman------> 30%
Catwoman------> 20%

Apparently, I am "mild-mannered, good, strong and you love to help others." Yeah. That sounds about right.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz

A of All

Wait for me! Wait for me! I don't want to be just one of the pack ... but then again, it's lonely here without a blog. So watch out folks, I'm starting my own blog! Buyer beware: you may find out more about my wacky brain then you're really interested in in. I can't be held liable for anything forthwith.

On the off chance someone I don't know reads this, here's a brief bio:

• Born/Raised in Loveland,Colorado
• 5th of 7 kids (4 boys: Tod, Brad, Kevin, Derek & 3 girls: Kirsten, Gretchen, Merridee). My family is scattered around the country, with the highest concentration in the Pacific Northwest.
  
• Lived in Maryland since 2000.
• Bounced all over Montgomery and Prince George's Counties, but now happily settled in Silver Spring, just over the DC border.
• University at BYU
• Grad School at University of Maryland in Library Science. (seriously, they have a school for that.)
• Now gainfully employed at CSA as a "Senior Project Specialist" aka Project Manager for this little beauty: MultiSearch (CSA's Federated Search engine)
  
• After school job at Ann Taylor Loft
• Favorite Time of day: Bedtime
• Favorite drink: Diet Coke
• Favorite Color: All of them
• Favorite Radio station: WOXY (internet station)
  
• New Favorite way to waste time at work: Post to my blog (of course!)
  

These introductory blogs are pretty lame - so I'll just wrap up now, and let you check back for better (and definitely more interesting) posts later.