3.30.2007

Ho Hum Day-O

Today hasn't started off too well. I woke up this morning with a headache and discovered a new, red pimple on my chin. On my way to school, I opened my mail while carrying coffee, my purse, and my bookbag. As I was opening the umpteenth rejection letter, I spilled coffee all down my new white linen halter top. Then I get to school, set my laptop back on the table, and my laptop bag falls over, promptly dumping my newly fixed laptop on the floor. Thankfully, it still works, but only seems to work now when plugged in. Then, I log on to my computer and Mozilla Firefox has updated itself, yet again, promptly deleting all of my bookmarks (yet again). I had quite a list of websites I had bookmarked for my research paper which are now lost. Maybe I should have just stayed in bed and waited for the sun to rise tomorrow morning before bravely facing law school.

As I promised; here are two more weird things about me, thus completing my MeMe. Also, as part of the MeMe obligation, I am tagging Hippo Noodles and The Pink Highlighter.

1. I do a very good impression of Janice. You know, Chandler's ex-girlfriend on Friends? Really, I do. Oh, Cha-a-a-a-ndler! Ha Ha Ha Ha.

2. For a long time, I dreamed of being a music video creative director. I'm not sure if that is the correct title, but basically I wanted to be the person who comes up with the concept for the video of each artist's songs and direct its production. I think I would be very good at this job because I am random, creative, love musicians, and have a lot of show-bizziness in me. Plus, even now, when I listen to a new song, sometimes a vision flashes in my brain that I think would be a good idea for its music video.

Finally, let me tell you a little story about my dad. Every year of childhood that I could read, I could expect a scholarly book under the Christmas Tree with a note telling my brother and I that if we would read this book, my dad would pay each of us $20. We usually grumbled about it, but eventually accepted his offer, read the book and got our money. The books ranged in religious works, AP level books (which I later had to reread...for those AP English classes), and a variety of other subjects.

There was one book that I especially did not want to read due to its apparent idiocy (to me) and its thickness. The book that I am talking about is "How To Read A Book" by Adler and Van Doren. I negotiated getting more money (I think maybe up to $25?) after making my pleading case. Then, I proceeded to read it. If there is one book that I am thankful to my dad for making me read, it is this one (of course, I never told him that - I wanted my $25 bucks to count). Not only did it help me understand how to critically read, but also it make me appreciate what authors go through when writing anything. My favorite part of the book was the list in the back of a suggested reading list if you truly wanted to be an educated American. I have been wanting to find this list for a while, but for one reason or another, kept putting off doing the obligatory Google search to locate it.

Today, I decided it was high time to be academic and quit reading chick-lit (just finished "The Dirty Girls Social Club, sucias!) for a while (not that I will ever quit reading such bubbly fun fiction, but I am almost a grown-up and I feel I need to bone up on my meatier reading).

Here is the link and a list of the books.

3.29.2007

Is the reason the wedding is for the bride...because the marriage is for the husband?

While working on my Women and the Law paper, I ran across a law review article entitled "The Focus Factor" by B. Glenn George (15. Tex. J. Women & L. 147). Here is one excerpt that I found quite interesting:

Susan Maushart's Wifework describes the reality of marriage, or rather being a wife, as a “nasty shock.” Weaving together her own experiences (two divorces, the second leaving her as a single parent with three children under the age of five) with research studies, Dr. Maushart makes the case that marriage is often a bad deal for women in virtually every respect, while men reap significant benefits from the arrangement. “If you are female, marriage will make a huge difference--and a surprising proportion of that difference will be negative. Becoming a wife will erode your mental health, reduce your leisure, decimate your libidom, and increase the odds that you will be physically assaulted or murdered in your own home.”

According to one study, marriage means fifty percent more laundry, seventy-three percent more cleaning and forty-nine percent more cooking for the wife. The husband, on the other hand, reduces his time on such tasks compared to his single state. Thus, the presence of the husband adds to the wife's workload (eight hours per week, according to one study) without bringing with it the “extra help” a “modern” woman might expect--or at least without bringing as much help as the eight hours he is adding to burden. And Dr. Maushart is talking here just about housework without the additional commitment of childcare. Add children to the mix, and mom is performing five times as much childcare duties as dad. Another study described husbands' avoidance of laundry as “notorious.” Even when both husband and wife work, the wife does all of the laundry in eighty-five percent of these relationships.

Whether of not the wife is employed has surprisingly little impact on the balance of housework performed by a married couple. Indeed, the difference between men with working wives and men with nonworking wives comes down to ten minutes--men with working wives perform ten minutes more housework per day than men with non-working wives. Other studies report a negative correlation for men between the number of hours worked and the hours spend in domestic work; in other words, fewer hours worked by the husband translates into less work done around the *161 house. To the extent that studies indicate a more balanced division of labor when both husband and wife have demanding careers, the balance is explained by the fact that the wife is “off-loading” more of her domestic labor hours to paid help (help generally arranged by the wife); the husband rarely contributes by shouldering an increasing load.

Dr. Maushart's colorful style captures the essence of these statistics with enough humor to soften the depressing reality. In discussing the culturally ingrained practice of “performing services” as a way for women/wives to express their love, for example, she notes the apparent absence of the proverbial two-way street:

Is there a husband alive who shows how much he cares by steam-pleating his wife's skirts, or making sure she always has enough bras in her underwear drawer? Does a man in love feel guilty about falling behind in the dusting? Does he assume 94 per cent of all child care tasks, refusing to use day care because ‘he didn't become a father to let somebody else look after his kids'? Does a truly devoted family man feel terminally conflicted about juggling paid and unpaid work commitments? And will he ever in a billion trillion years cop flak if he forgets his mother-in-law's birthday? Other scholars report similar findings on the home front, regardless of race, class or culture. As one scholar concluded after a review of available studies, “Little will be said about variations associated with race or social class differences, or differences between the various countries for which substantial data are available. . . . This is not due to lack of interest or lack of space, but because there is a great deal of evidence that these matters are barely, if at all, relevant.”

In one particularly revealing incident reported in a study by Dr. Francine M. Deutsch, Dr. Deutsch reports on a family in which both parents work full time, but the wife worked significantly longer hours than her husband. The wife worked an average of seventy-five hours per week as a clinical social worker, while her husband averaged 41 hours per week *162 as a speech pathologist. Yet, in spite of this significant disparity of time availability, the wife continued to do most of the housework. When asked to explain this apparent anomaly, the husband responded that he “didn't enjoy and wasn't interested in doing the cooking or laundry.” How does one even begin to respond?

******************************************************************************

I have to say that this excerpt resonates with me because I sense the Knight and I will have a dispute one day based upon this traditional split (or rather dumping) of chores on the wife. Right now, we live apart, he works long hours, and I am taking a mere 12 hours this semester. When he comes home for the weekends, he helps by vacuuming, loading the dishwasher, and cooking occasionally, while I take care of the laundry, dusting, mopping, bathrooms, and general pickup.

One reason why he does so much less is because the mess is mostly my mess. Also, he works a lot more than I do, and drives 3 1/2 hours one way to see me for the weekend. A final reason for my doing more, which I think the article should have addressed more closely, is that I like the way I clean a lot better than his method (plus, I secretly like doing the laundry). My guess is that a lot of other women feel the same way (well, except for the laundry part).

Sometimes now, we fight about his contribution to the household chores, but since there are a multitude of reasons why he could be excused from doing anything right now (as I just mentioned above), I usually nag a few times and let it go.

However, once we both live in Memphis together, and we are both working, a serious compromise of chore-splitting will be essential. Either that, or we'll hire a maid. Or maybe go "Big Love" style and get a wife. Or a robot? Any other suggestions?







3.28.2007

Go build me a cake or something.

People, this is a great time of the year. Spring has sprung, new love is in the air, and flowers are blooming everywhere.

I love this time of year so much that I have written a haiku:

Flowers, grass, sunshine
How I miss you very much
In the library.

Starting tomorrow, I have a whirlwind of school-related stuff due:
Tomorrow: rough draft of 25 page paper due
Next Thursday: Women & the Law presentation
Following Monday: my edits to my Journal article due
Weekend following the following Monday: Bar application due
Sometime in the mix during this time: Response to a Motion for Summary Judgment.

The only thing keeping me together is the thought that when all of this is done, my birthday will be fast approaching.

In case you didn't know, my birthday is less than 40 days away. While the idea of aging does not delight me, and I find myself scrutinizing the skin around my eyes more carefully these days, I LOVE birthdays. That might be because, since I was very little, I have been accustomed to celebrating my birthday in a very special way.

I don't have favorite posts, because rarely do I ever look back at something I've written and think "I'm so glad that in a lapse of judgment I just shared that with the world!" However, my synopsis of how to properly celebrate a girl's birthday makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside - not because of the words I have written, but because of what I'm discussing. Cake! Pampering! Presents! The holy triumvirate of birthdays.

Okay, I have to dive back under the piles of books and law review articles, but in the words of
Chili Davis "Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional."

Artsy Fartsy is thinking she just might quit her day job and be a professional haiku-er.



3.21.2007

Spring is here, and I am weird!

The lovely Pargolo has tagged me and asked me to discuss 6 weird things about me. I had a hard time with this, because, while I have been told many times that I am a weirdo, I was stumped when trying to think of actual reasons why. Well, except for the fact that I love making this face.
Seriously, it never ceases to amuse me.

Anyway, I asked Daisy for help, and she had no trouble immediately listing about 4 things that are weird. Thanks, Daisy.

Oh, speaking of Daisy...On Tuesday, we both come to our Women & the Law class. I haven't seen her for over a week and we had maybe one-two phone conversations during the break. My point in giving this fact is that we had had very limited contact with one another, and didn't really talk about much. Back to Tuesday - I am sitting in class wearing a military style jacket, jeans, and carrying my brand new large mustard purse. She walks in wearing a military style jacket, jeans, and carrying her brand new large mustard purse. We look at each other, burst into laughter, and she says "I guess that answers my question of whether you think this purse it too yellow." We do this often, showing up to school wearing similar outfits, but this time it was just ridiculous. Too funny.

Speaking of ridiculous, what has happened to Men in Trees? All of a sudden, it doesn't follow Grey's Anatomy anymore, and appears to have been replaced by some show call October Road (which, I must admit, looks very good, but still - I LOVE Men in Trees). UPDATE! Read this!

Okay, here is my list:

1. I am a Worst Case Scenario kind of person - I am a panicker, a worrier, and I have been blessed with an overactive imagination. If for some reason I can't get a hold of the Knight (like he's not answering his cell phone or he is late meeting me), I immediately start envisioning that he must have just gotten in a terrible accident, and is lying on the side of a cold, gritty street struggling to suck in his last breaths. Or, if I feel the slightest sick to my stomach, I immediately mentally run through all of the foods I have eaten in the last 48 hours, run a search on the internet for symptoms of common food diseases, and by the end of the search have convinced myself that I have e Coli. I have no idea where this trait comes from, but it drives me crazy. On the other hand, it makes me a very good planner because I always envision the worst case scenario and try to plan around it. See that? That was an example of me taking a bad characteristic and making it a positive. I have been practicing for interviewing...can you tell?

2. I am Speed Reader - When I was 3-4, my dad taught me to read. I don't think I am some sort of genius, but I had a father who felt that education was very important, and from an early age stressed that to me. (This is also the man that would make us engage in family spelling bees in the basement during a tornado watch to keep our minds off of the storm). I am sure that I was way more interested in playing dress up and coloring, but I distinctly remember sitting on his lap at age 4, and going to through some paperback book with Dad that was talking about teaching John how to read. Anyway, since age 4, I have loved to read and was quite a little nerd (and still am) all through school. I remember being in middle school sitting with my friends at lunch and all of us pulling out books to read. Every day. We didn't speak, unless we were discussing the latest book we were reading or asking each other if we could borrow their book once they finished. It was definitely something the other members of my cheerleading squad didn't understand. I get all kinds of flack from my friends and family because of my speed-readiness, but I'm okay with it by now. I read during my middle school lunch time, remember? You think I didn't get "flack" then?

3. I am Dysfunctional Dieter - I have always had a love/hate relationship with food and exercise. For most of my childhood, my weight fluctuated between normal and a little chubby. I wasn't a couch potato, and my mom watched what we ate, but our family stays a little on the thick side until we are done battling with puberty. And then after. During middle school and high school, I cheered, played volleyball and soccer, and ran cross country. I was exercising enough that I never really needed to watch my figure (what I would give to have that body back), but for some reason I obsessively watched what I ate. I think it had a lot to do with my overzealous cross country coach's diet suggestions, but whatever she told us, I took it to heart and doubled it. I only ate sweets on special occasions, avoided chips and soda like the plague, and preferred to each chicken sandwiches and side salads over burgers and fries at the fast food restaurants. For a couple of years, I was even a strict vegetarian. (Something I've been trying again, for some some reason, I'm having a much harder time with it. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that now I'm the one making the food, rather than my dear sweet mother.)

Once I started college, the cafeteria opened a whole new world. All of a sudden, I wanted nothing but Diet Coke, french fries, and a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch with every meal. And yes, I also took advantage of the reduced Papa John rate's for Lipscomb students. Many times. Too many times, to be exact. I still worked out a lot, but for the first time since my childhood, I was gaining weight and having a hard time getting rid of it. I think it was during college that food replaced shopping as a reward for me. Now, don't get me wrong, I still loved to shop, but I didn't make much as a nanny, and had my meager college girl bills to pay, so food was a lot easier to come by than any of the clothes sold in my snobby/rich part of town.

I think it took me about 4 years (yes, all of college - sorry, I'm a fast reader, but a slow learner) to realize that I could not continue to eat the way I was and stay cute. Unfortunately, by that time, I had already created some very bad habits and, even worse, some very large saddlebags.
Now, I am constantly on a diet. And I am a good dieter until I see results. Then, for some reason, I think that "I'm skinny me again and with skinny me comes nice and awesome metabolism." I start eating yummy things again, and what do you know, but all of a sudden, my booty has grown from JLo to J - Whoa!

So, maybe this dieting habit doesn't make me weird, but I sure can't reconcile my desire to be skinny while I continue to sabotage my own efforts each time I make some progress.

4. I used to walk around the grocery store pretending that I was a)famous, b) British and/or Turkish (depending on the day), and c)mentally challenged. I did this often as a child. I swear my mother considered taking me back to the hospital and making sure I was really hers. But, after she confirmed that I indeed am her daughter, she embraced my oddness and started talking back to me in my language of choice. Or asking me for my autograph.

Sometimes, she would even humor me by letting me get my own cart, put a few of her groceries in my cart, give me enough money to pay for them, and then we would file in after one another in the checkout aisle. She would turn around, make this awesome face filled with surprise and excitement, and say "Oh my goodness! Are you that girl? In that movie? Can I please, please, please get your autograph? My daughter would be so excited to hear that I met you!" I, of course, would haughtily oblige her request, yawn, sign my name with lots of hearts and swirls, and then resume my method acting of "starlet standing in a grocery line with commoners." Sometimes, people would stare at me, trying to figure what movie I could possibly be in, but more often, the sales girl would just roll her eyes, ring up my groceries, and then take my money. (What? We lived in a small town with, like, 2 grocery stores. Apparently, we had performed the same show for Miss Idon'thaveasenseofhumor Sales Girl before.

I had to stop doing this when my friends were old enough to work at the grocery store. Okay, actually, I stopped doing this a long time before we were 15, but sometimes, I still miss standing in line and pretending that my mother and I are long lost refugees from the motherland who have just discovered one another and can finally speak our native tongue without fear of oppression.

(Oh yeah - my mother nipped in the bud the act where I walked around the store drooling with my feet inverted. She explained to me that my behavior was insensitive and that people out there really did struggle with just the things I was mocking. So, I had to stop that one.)

(NOTE: I am getting tired and have worked on this for a while. The remaining two will be in the next post.) Kisses!

Artsy Fartsy is learning that sometimes it is hard to be a feminist AND have a husband.

3.20.2007

Hard to believe.

On Sunday, I watched a rerun of the second Pussycat Doll Tryout Reality Show (aka The Search For the Next Sex Kitten). I felt the need to capitalize each and every word in that title because the show is that important and fabulous. Okay, not really, but for some reason I just can't turn it off. Maybe it is because at some point in my teen life I would have liked to be a Pussycat Doll for a day and also because I think the show is hilarious.

ANYway, in this episode, the 9 girls vying for the illustrious position of the next "Doll" split up in groups of three to perform pop songs made famous by other groups and have a surprise "challenge." The show's basic setup mirrors America's Next Top Model, but with less weaves.

Okay, so, there is all kinds of drama with the three girl groups. Behaving like typical females in a competitive group, the weaker ones get singled out and ignored by the (apparently) more talented ones, and a whole lot of back stabbing goes on. Gosh, I feel like I'm back in college!

The challenge for the episode was for each of the girls to dance in a glass box in lingerie at a bar. The challenges was supposed to be able to gauge their "confidence" and "dancing ability." Each girl got up in the box, danced like a stripper, and then got applauded for it. There is this one girl, I think her name is Brittany, who, according to the judges and the dance coach, danced too sluttily for the Pussycat Dolls.

Stop there. They were just told to dance. With shreds of clothing. In a glass box. Elevated above everyone else. For a ton of patrons in a bar. What do they expect? Isn't that the point of the Pussycat Dolls? To be a group of sexual dance kittens?

Anyway, poor little Britt Britt obviously was as confused as I was, and was sent home for dancing like a slut. Poor thing.

So, the lesson we can learn from this episode is that there is fine line between classy slut and slutty slut. Apparently, PCD only wants classy sluts. As soon as I clearly understand what criteria is required for the classy slut v. the slutty slut, I will let you know.

3.19.2007

Them's there a lot of big purdy houses...

Helloo friends! I hope you all had a wonderful, fabulous, amazing week. I know my last post was a little droopy, but actually my Spring Break turned out quite nicely. Now that I have my computer back from the laptop doctor, allow me to tell you about it.

First, my last post about me being bummed about not doing anything for Spring Break was really only the tip of the iceberg. Fortunately for you, and unfortunately for the Knight, he got the brunt of my emotional state. Sometimes I have a tendency to get sentimental (sometimes = all the time). And for some reason, Spring Break got me all nostalgic and teary-eyed, and then when I started explaining to the Knight just how sad I was that we weren't doing anything and how we are never going to have another Spring Break for the rest of our lives, and don't you think that this is foreshadowing for the rest of our lives, never going on vacations b/c we let the little stuff get in our way, the sobby sob sob flood doors opened, and poor little Knight was on the other end of the phone all verklempt.

After our phone conversation ended, I consoled myself by watching Dallas reruns, eating pizza rolls (hey - they were vegetarian), and chopping all of my hair off. Really, I did! Here was me with the old hair:

Here is me now:

I know it is quite different from the old "do", but I love it. It can still be glam, just in a very different way. Also, the amount of money I am going to save on shampoo and conditioner is incredible.

Anyway, while I was making rash decisions and poor eating choices, the Knight got busy. Now, there you go again with your dirty little thoughts. He got busy by calling up his sister and planning a little surprise trip for me. My sister-in-law is the only non-law student I know who doesn't have a job. Well, let me clarify, she has a job, but it doesn't pay, involves changing lots of diapers, and has very inflexible hours. In case you couldn't tell by that description, she is a stay-at-home mom. Although her babies are quite adorable and wonderful, she happened to be ready for a little break herself.

Anyway, since the Knight and her husband were heading to Atlanta this past weekend for the NASCAR race, the Knight figured that the previous weekend would be the perfect time for him to ask Sister to go on a trip with me and let her husband watch the kids for a while. How could her husband say no if he himself would be going out of town the following weekend and leaving all the kids with her? Apparently, her husband felt the same way, and so off we went for a girls trip to Asheville, NC. (Caveat - you may be wondering how their bills get paid, with all this taking trips and caring for the children. Well, they have a little ice cream store, with lots of wonderful employees, and have the luxury of a flexible schedule. I know, its okay, sometimes I get a little envious, too.)

Both of us had been to Asheville before, but Sister went when she was 11 and I went with a boyfriend (on a school approved trip, thank you) whom I did not like very much. So, we were ready to do Asheville right this time.

After several Cracker Barrel biscuits and two parking lot style traffic jams on the interstate, we finally arrived at our beautiful B & B...The Hill House Bed & Breakfast.


It was a lovely, well-appointed home with an eclectic decor and a bottomless chocolate chip cookie jar. Also, Bailey, the inn mascot, was quite a little sweetie.




After arriving at the B&B, Sister and I headed to the Grove Park Inn for some wine and beautiful views. Both pictured here.


She had eaten dinner here several years ago, and distinctly remembered the giant fireplaces in the lobby, so we decided to go see if they were as big as she remembered. They were.

Then, we wandered down the terraced area and discovered the Grove Park Spa. All we did was just look around, but that in itself was a spa experience. Right now we are trying to scheme a way to go back and take the Knight's mom, because it was that amazing.

The next day we visited the Biltmore Estate. I have mixed feelings about this place. On one hand, it is beautiful and the largest home in America. Also, the stories about the home's owners and the decor is fascinating. On the other hand, it costs a lot to visit (between $38 - 44 and you still have to pay for a audio or live tour), and compared to all of the truly amazing castles in other parts of the world, it is mediocre.

Anyway, we went and had a great time. Here are some pictures, just in case you wanted to have a looksie of where we were.




Wasn't that fun? Don't you feel like you too have been to the Biltmore? No? Well that is probably b/c you aren't allowed to take pictures inside the home. What a sensible rule. Which I abided by until I saw this pretty thing. I just couldn't control myself. But, technically, I think this might have been okay, since this part of the building was actually outside, and if I had been in a helicopter flying above the Biltmore, I would have seen the same thing.

So after all of this rule-breaking and wine-tasting, we were pooped. And hungry. Two delicious places to eat in Asheville are Ophelia's and Bistro 1896. We ate at both places. I don't think any of this information is relevant, but if you are planning a trip to Asheville, I highly recommend both of them.

Okay, so moving on. Remember that list I made last time? Of all of the things I was and was not going to do? That is funny. Because I broke almost all of my promises. I ate salads and did not work on a dang thing. I have recopied that list, so that now I can confirm or deny such illusory promises.

  1. I am going to get my nails and toes done. Possibly twice. Got them done once.
  2. I am going to paint. A picture for Daisy, b/c she asked me to and I love her, a picture that I promised the Knight last Christmas, b/c I love him, and a picture just for me, b/c I guess I love me too. Didn't even think about painting.
  3. I am going to go to Memphis (with the Knight). He doesn't know this yet, but I really want to go to Graceland. Still no Graceland for Artsy Fartsy. :(
  4. I am going to try to work on a website for Law Women. I am the historian, which basically means I am supposed to document all that Law Women does this year. So far, I have taken about 3 pictures. I need to do something. Law Women? Who?
  5. I am also going to try to work on my paper for Women & the Law. My topic is about off-ramping and on-ramping (when women leave work for a few years to have kids and then try to re-enter the work force). Women & the Law? What?
  6. I am going to teach Betty some new tricks. She's got the "sit" thing down, but I really need her to learn "stay" and "drop it." No new tricks. Possibly unlearned the "sitting" thing.
  7. I am going to watch all of the old episodes of "Ugly Betty" on the internet. My group of friends has a little supper club on Thursdays and they prefer the Office, so poor little Ugly Betty has been neglected. I really love her and kind of want to be her next year for Halloween. I'll still have braces. No Ugly Betty yet. Sad.
  8. I am also going to get caught up on "What About Brian." This is a great show, but since the Learned Hand Bowling League has been in full force, I have had to miss every episode. No What About Brian either. Double sad.
Wow. I officially did none of the things on my list.

Things I have vowed not to do on Spring Break:

  1. Work out. Kind of fuzzy on this one. I walked and ran with Betty, but never did anything else.
  2. Eat salad. Yes, at least twice. But that is okay, I like salads.
  3. Do chores. Sadly, yes to this too. Both the Knight and I had some serious laundry to do.
  4. Get up earlier than 9:30 a.m. Yes to this too, but only because the bed and breakfast served breakfast promptly at 9.
  5. Throw a pity party that I'm not in Panama City. DID NOT DO THIS ONE! Mainly because I had already done this previous to my previous post and because after I went shopping and tried on clothes, I was glad no one had to see me in a bikini. Apparently, I have more than one bottom now.
  6. Work out. Again, yes and no. But after reading the previous answer, I really think I should consider this suggestion more seriously in the future.
Okay, so I am fine. And the Knight is wonderful. And even though I didn't do anything super glamorous, I had a nice, restful break and was happy to come back to my apartment. And Betty was so good for the entire week, even though she spent the week at multiple friends' homes, and had very few little accidents. She was ready to go home, too.
(Please, let's go home. I miss my toys and peeing and pooping on your pretty rug).

(Please?)

Artsy Fartsy is very glad to be home. And is also a big fan of OPI's nail polish color, Ms. O'Leary's BBQ.

3.07.2007

What horrible injustice was done to you that you have to act this way?

Don't have much to say, but thought I should get the butt beads post off the front page and moved down to get lost in bloglivion. But here I go talking about those beads again, so I'll have to do the same thing to this post.

Thoughts on icing and cookies. They go really well together and make me quite happy. Which came first, the icing or the cookie? I wish they could be a great way to lose weight. I am in the midst of being a big fan right now.

Betty and I went to the vet yesterday to get her third round of vaccines. After using $156 of my precious dollars and learning that in the past month she had gained a whopping .15 lbs bigger (now she weighs 2.15 lbs!), Betty trotted home and promptly slagged around all day. She was a little mopey, but mostly adorable and cuddly. While I don't want my doggie to be lethargic all the time, I have to admit that all day I kept muttering to myself "Hi, can I get a vaccine for my puppy every day?"

OH YEAH, BETTY SAYS HI! And she doesn't have any grodey parasites any more!

So, my spring break plans are sad. A wonderful friend invited the Knight and I to his parents' lovely beach house, and we were all set to go, and then a big work project came up for the Knight. So, now the Knight has to stay home, and I guess I could still go, but who wants to be the single married girl on a trip with a bunch of couples? I actually do kind of want to be that person (and often am, since we don't live together right now), but I have things to do on Thursday and Friday, and don't really want to have to drive to Florida and back all by my lonesome self - with no iPod or CD player. I think I am kind of depressed about it. In fact, when I start thinking about my last Spring Break being spent doing nothing beach-ish, I want to sniffle and then do something really impulsive to make up for it. So far, I've been looking on Travelzoo trying to purchase some ridiculously cheap trip to Nassau, and then I realize that even a ridiculously cheap trip is out of my budget and the Knight still couldn't come.

So, I think instead I am going to do the following things. This is more a list for myself, since no one really gives a flip about what I do with my last week of freedom. Oh behave.

  1. I am going to get my nails and toes done. Possibly twice.
  2. I am going to paint. A picture for Daisy, b/c she asked me to and I love her, a picture that I promised the Knight last Christmas, b/c I love him, and a picture just for me, b/c I guess I love me too.
  3. I am going to go to Memphis (with the Knight). He doesn't know this yet, but I really want to go to Graceland.
  4. I am going to try to work on a website for Law Women. I am the historian, which basically means I am supposed to document all that Law Women does this year. So far, I have taken about 3 pictures. I need to do something.
  5. I am also going to try to work on my paper for Women & the Law. My topic is about off-ramping and on-ramping (when women leave work for a few years to have kids and then try to re-enter the work force).
  6. I am going to teach Betty some new tricks. She's got the "sit" thing down, but I really need her to learn "stay" and "drop it."
  7. I am going to watch all of the old episodes of "Ugly Betty" on the internet. My group of friends has a little supper club on Thursdays and they prefer the Office, so poor little Ugly Betty has been neglected. I really love her and kind of want to be her next year for Halloween. I'll still have braces.
  8. I am also going to get caught up on "What About Brian." This is a great show, but since the Learned Hand Bowling League has been in full force, I have had to miss every episode.

Things I have vowed not to do on Spring Break:

  1. Work out.
  2. Eat salad.
  3. Do chores.
  4. Get up earlier than 9:30 a.m.
  5. Throw a pity party that I'm not in Panama City.
  6. Work out.

Okay, that is all I have to say today. Oh, the title of this blog - a line from "Friends with Money." It is very weird, and quite depressing. But I still watched the whole thing, because I am a completer, and that is how I roll.

Artsy Fartsy is tired of allergies and wishes for the good old days when Sudafed still worked and you didn't have to have your ID and sign away your life just to buy some allergy medicine. Also, she wants macaroni and cheese.

3.01.2007

Apparently, my stressing about the blog is over.

First of all, thanks to NG for the comment on last post, Ana on the Facebook, and all of you in person who have urged me to keep blogging. I think I'm done for the month about stressing of this blog. I really don't think what I have to say is going to jeopardize my career, but sometimes I get panicky. You know? I have a tendency to over analyze things and stress about being stressed. Okay, got that off my chest. Moving on...

Question: Would you rather have a son named Mary or a daughter named Burp? I can't decide. A boy named Sue is already a famous little diddy, so my son named Mary would at least have a song to identify with, but little Miss Burp? Please come to Burp's tea party! It's okay mom, I'm taking Burp to prom. Most Talented - Burp! I don't know what she would do.

Second question: When I say the words "Hunky Dory Bamboozle Mustard Pants", what does that make you think of? For me, it makes me want to write a song about a hot guy named Dory who got bamboozled into wearing pants with mustard on them. But then, that's just me. You probably have an entirely different and spiritual interpretation. OHMMM...MUSTAAAARD.

Another thing. When you are using quotation marks and then a piece of punctuation is needed, do you prefer to keep the (for example) comma ("word,") tucked nicely inside the quotes or out on its own("to your mama",)? I never really know which one is right.

Also, if your dog likes to play with anal beads, does that make her a little pervy? A little dirty girl?

I was going to explain the whole story to you, but then I decided that story would create way, way too much controversy and would involve mentioning people who are not even aware of this blog and may not like being singled out for giving me anal beads, SOOOO long story short:

I got some anal beads last Christmas as a gag gift (asked for funky jewelry, got funky beads instead), and the only use they have seen in the last two years is being casually hung on my Christmas tree right before throwing a party to see if anyone would notice, and hanging out in a drawer where I put other things I don't use, don't know what to do with them (can't really donate those beads to goodwill), and can't bring myself to throw them away.

I have put myself on puppy toy purchasing probation. I have discovered that since I am not buying clothes this semester, I have just channeled that drive into buying shoes, earrings, and since Betty's arrival - puppy toys. Every time I go to Wal-Mart or PetSmart, I buy her a little fun thing. And then I get home, and see all the other "fun little treats" that I have to pick up and put back in Betty's toy basket, and I kick myself for adding one more addition to the mess.

A couple of days ago, Betty was being unusually crazy and psycho - barking at the couch, nipping on my toes, running in circles chasing her little stub of a tail, and chewing on the edge of my fairly new, very pretty rug. I tried to tease her with her little lamb baby, her fuzzy porcupine (furcupine?), the brown chewie bone, the hairbrush (her all-time favorite toy), and even got her to "sit" a few times (her only training so far!). But no matter how many toys I flaunted or how many pieces of kibble I gave her for sitting, she would sit, get her treat or sniff the toy uninterested, and then resume being Tornado Betty.

I was getting pretty peeved, namely because I can only tolerate getting up and telling her NO! while pulling her away from the edge of the rug so many times and I started going thru drawers and cabinets trying to find something new to pique her interest. After pawing thru the drawer previously mentioned, I came across those famed gag gift anal beads (completely unused!). I paused, weighing the pros and cons of giving such a toy to my little puppy. On one hand, it is perfect for Betty's delicate little baby teeth - chewy but strong enough to withhold her gnawing. On the other hand, what kind of message am I sending to guests who come over and see a strand of anal beads innocuously placed in Betty's basket or more likely, just lying around on the floor? At this moment, Betty grabbed the cuff of my jeans, started growling playfully, and I handed it over.

Amazingly, she really liked the new toy and settled down for an hour of chew time. Finally -- Here I come, Oprah!

I thought her attachment to this toy would pass. Every other toy she has, she plays with for a few days, then ignores it, and only a few of the best rise to the top and are continually preferred by her. But no. Every day that I have come home since I introduced Miss Betty to le beads, she greets me at the door with some pretty purple beads in her mouth! What will I ever do if someone comes to visit? Like the landlord? How do I explain that one?

I had all these cute pictures of her chewing on her favorite new sex toy, and also some of her proudly showing off her new pink heart name tag, but my computer has suddenly decided to sporadically turn on, turn off, and turn on again. I think may have gotten a virus from looking at so much puppy porn lately. Dang porn! My computer is apparently boycotting my puppy and anal beads photo shoot. Maybe if I get it fixed, I'll post them, but I'm not making any promises.

Okay, hope ya'll have a great weekend. I'm off to Nashville to hang with the Knight and to attend yet another bachelorette party. Celebrating last nights of singledom is happening so much lately, I kind of would like to have a party celebrating not being single. You know, just to mix it up a bit.

Artsy Fartsy wants to know if wearing Betty's funky purple anal beads to the bachelorette party would be a good idea.

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