31 October 2009

7 Quick Takes Friday (Vol. 3)

Obviously, I'm a day late, but yesterday was exhausting, what with the waking up at 3:30AM and not falling back asleep after 3 hours of lying there trying. So I got up, finished my costume, finished my school work, watched my cousins, and did a whole bunch of other mindless daily routine things that make me want to shoot myself in the head when reading about them in other people's blogs. Ugh. So boring.


And speaking of my Halloween costume - success! I loved it! I'm going to wear it every day! It's my future wedding dress! But to be fair, I should tell you that I did not come up with the idea myself. No, sadly, I am not that creative. But I knew someone who was: the Internet. And that's where the idea for outfit spawned from, though again - I made it myself. I cannot stress that enough to equal the amount of effort the whole thing took. But it was incredibly fun (you know...for sewing), and the result was even better than I could've ever hoped for considering the fact that I've never sewn anything more than a bandanna (which was only the once), and CERTAINLY never an entire outfit or with an actual sewing machine.


Also, I don't have 7 things this week, so I'm going to cheat by dividing my costume-talk up. And using this interruption as one of the 7. Like this.

Here's a look at the freshly sewn skirt, pre-balls (which I'm gonna call "spheres" from now on, for obvious reasons):

I don't know what I'm doing with my feet on the right that makes them look like I have them on the wrong legs. Also, don't mind my face on the left - that's just what I look like after being up for 9 hours without showering and it's STILL only 12:30 in the afternoon. But whatever, I'm still hot.

The skirt hung slightly crooked, but you really can't tell. Not without the spheres, anyway (they make it a bit more obvious, but...meh). I thought it was pretty dang good, considering. Plus, it actually was rather pretty, and I was a bit sad that I had to cover its beauty with 24 gold half-spheres.

But the awesomeness that was my costume got me over that real fast.

I meant to take a separate picture of the sash thing I'm wearing (not at the studio - that'd be weird - just at home), because that was THE HARDEST PART of the whole thing and deserves it's own photo, but I forgot (whoops. maybe later). Took me ages to get it just right. And in addition to the slight crookedness of the skirt, the sash wasn't exactly perfect either. It turned out perfectly - it was just like I planned - but see...while I was planning it and making it, I kinda forgot all about my womanhood for a second, and the fact that I am a feminine being entirely made up of rather noticeable curves. My middle name might as well be Lombard Street. So when I went to tie the thing in the back, the sides didn't exactly line up (by the time I got to the bottom tie, the sides were a good 4 inches away. I'm looking at you, hips), and it didn't exactly have the most form-fitting shape. Then again, do you have any idea how complicated it would have been to sew it to fit the contours of my body? No, neither do I! And I wouldn't have wanted to find out even if I considered my non-straight-as-a-board body to begin with, because the equilateral shape was hard enough as it was. So it's not like it would have turned out differently if I had given it some thought. In the end, I just used some safety pins to hold it more or less in place to prevent it from bunching, and it worked just as well. I guess.

So, you know...ta daaaa!


Oh, so you probably want to know what I was, right? Well, Mr. "Anonymous" guessed correctly in the comments of my last blog, so good job there. But for everyone else who is still lost as ever, here you go. I was...a Dalek:

See the resemblance? Yes? No? Kinda? Well, whatever, I don't care. STILL love my costume, so hmph. It's from "Doctor Who," which is the latest in a long, long line of movies/TV shows (I refuse, on principle, to call them - uuuggghhh - "fandoms." Gross. I shudder. That's so...ugh, Comic-Con) that I obsess over for a few months at a time. Honestly, you can just as easily measure my life in titles as you could years. Last year, it was "Pushing Daisies," which subsequently led me into an intense pie making phase. In college, there was "The 4400," where I bought a jacket exactly like one of the main characters, because, man, I wanted to be her. And I asked my doctor if he could check for Promicin while doing my blood work. There was also "The 10th Kingdom" phase in Jr. High when I tried to buy quicksilver (turns out it's just mercury, but what a sad day that was when I found that out). And don't even get me STARTED on "Harry Potter," and how every single summer, I PRAYED for an owl to deliver me a letter saying that I had been accepted to some local magic school, and how I figured that American magic schools just have a different starting age than Hogwarts, which is why I didn't get a letter when I was 11. I also spent $45 on a hand-carved magic wand. You know, for me to cast all the totally real spells in the books. Anyway, I tell you all that to say this: I'm a geek, and I always have been. And when I get into something, I really get into something. I come from two very long lines full of addictive personalities, and I'm just thankful that my obsession is sci-fi/fantasy and not alcohol, gambling or little kids. It's slightly less creepy that way. Slightly.

And thus explains my costume.

And of course, no one at work had ANY idea who I was, which I was kind of expecting, and while I couldn't have cared less, there was still part of me that hoped just one person would know what I was, because, you know - insta!friend. But whatever. A lady from the shop across the way walked over just to ask me what I was though, because she and her workmates were trying to figure it out, and they had narrowed it down to either a rock wall or a marquee. Yes, miss, my Halloween costume is a marquee. (And ten minutes later after typing that sentence, I'm STILL trying to figure out a witty way to end that comeback, but alas, I'm still exhausted from two nights ago and I am drawing a bl____k, so I'm just gonna have to leave the sarcastic setup unfinished and move along, dull and defeated.)


I'm going to bed. Happy Halloween!


UPDATE: After viewing the blog, I saw the pictures got cut off due to the narrow body layout (DUMB), hence the reason for the new (wider) template. One of these days, I'm gonna get around to making a my own layout.

29 October 2009

Halloween Costume Teaser

I haven't dressed up for Halloween in years, probably since high school. And I wasn't planning on breaking that streak any time soon since I've got no where to be that requires that I dress up; but then I found out that I have to have a costume for work this Saturday, so I had to come up with something. Of course, this is me we're talking about, Little Miss Go-All-Out, and instead of buying some cheap costume or using the ready-made Indian get-up that we have stuffed in a closet somewhere for emergency costuming situations just like this one, I decided to make my own costume. From scratch. Like, with sewing and whatnot. Problem is my extensive domestic repertoire has never consisted of sewing, and while I thought I'd be able to figure out my mom's 30+ year old sewing machine just by playing around with it (which is a method that almost never lets me down), I came to realize that my innate technological acumen is not backwards compatible with anything made before1982, give or take a year. So I had to wait for my mom to come home to show me how to operate it (oh how the tides have turned!) The parts I've done so far have turned out pretty nice, considering my lack of sewing experience, but before I show you any of that, let's take a look at my list of supplies and see if you can figure out what I'm supposed to be.

(Also, my camera is back! It came back the very day I shipped my laptop out for repair, but let's focus on the positive! My camera! It returns! And is healed! Hence the photos you are about to see)

Well, duh, there'd be fabric involved since I said I was sewing. And yes, it is already cut out (save for the brown scraps which will end up lining the bottom of the gold fabric when all is said and done), so there's your first clue - there's a skirt involved. But I'm just gonna tell you now, my costume is an INTERPRETATION on a character. The thing I'm dressing up as does not wear a skirt. So good luck figuring this out, suckers.

Not pictured is a plain brown top that I already own (I wasn't about to attempt sewing a freaking shirt), but this will be a sash-like thing around my midriff (did you know it's not 'midrift?' Like, with a 't?' I did not. Thanks spell-checker. Learn something new everyday) worn over the top, with the ribbon sewn on eventually, in a precise pattern.

And I need two light bulbs. Though they won't be able to light up, unfortunately. I know I'm good, but I'm not that good.

Next, a bunch of styrofoam balls cut in half and painted gold. Not pictured are the other 14 halves that I don't have yet. The balls were surprisingly expensive for being styrofoam for Pete's sake, so I decided to get a 50% off coupon for the craft store and go back tomorrow. Anything to save a few pennies these days.

Oh, and I need a headband. But it's more of a functional thing than a form thing.

And a plunger is needed. Obviously. I mean, you can totally tell what I'm going to be now, can't you? No? Well, before I move on to the next item to help you narrow it down, let me tell you about my plunger-finding drama. First of all, Wal-Mart had plungers for $4, but I'm cheap, and the size they had was way too big for my needs, so I decided to check out the Dollar Store. I put it into the GPS, since I didn't know where the nearest one was, and where did it take me? To a building that USED to be a Dollar Store, but had since gone under. So I tried the next Dollar Store on my GPS's list, and once again - if there used to be a Dollar Store there, it ain't there now. And then the situation repeated itself a THIRD TIME. How bad must the economy be that DOLLAR STORES are going out of business? So I drove to the only Dollar Store that I KNEW to exist (it was in the next town over, but what can you do?) , only to find out that they didn't carry plungers. Apparently poor people don't have clogged toilets. Anyway, I finally found this plunger two stores later - at a Lowe's Foods - and wouldn't you know, it was the EXACT quaint size I was looking for! Granted, the plunger part needs to be painted black, and I might paint the handle gold, but other than that - PERFECT! And just over $2! Bargain.

Then there's the egg beater...mixer...thing. You probably think I'm making this all up as I go along, but oh no! I have a very specific character in mind that I'm going for here. And this mixer thing is a KEY part. I simply wouldn't be this character without it. Except that it's not ACTUALLY a, uh, mixer thing (oh my GOSH, what on earth is that called?), it's actually a weapon, a gun kinda, but nope! I've said too much already. Don't want to give it away, now do I?

Also - cookies. They're not actually part of the costume in any way, shape, or form, but I was eating them while painting mah balls, so there you go. (And don't go knocking the store-bought. These are actually quite good, thankyouverymuch).

So, to recap - fabric, a slew of painted half balls, light bulbs, headband, plunger, and egg beater thing.

What am I?

26 October 2009

I'm just gonna turn Amish and call it a day.

I should go ahead and tell you, I didn't buy my laptop. Nor did my mom, nor my dad, nor anyone else related to me in anyway. It was a gift from a man in Texas whom I've never met. He (Larry) and my mom go back a long ways (I think he was her art teacher in high school or something, but, you know...not in a Mary Kay Letourneau kind of way or anything, despite what you may think what with him buying her daughter expensive gifts and all)(though I'd have no problems if he were my dad instead of my actual dad, because, oh I dare to dream...)*, and while his generosity has served me well this past year in the form of a portable computeration device, it has made FIXING the damn thing a nightmare.

First of all, I found that there is a Toshiba authorized repair center in Raleigh, about 15 minutes away from me. Excellent, yes? No need to waste all that time and money on shipping. So I took it in today (the lady - no joke - said, "It was smoking? Huh, never had that before,") however they were unable to fix it just yet because according to Toshiba, my warranty expired this past June. Now, that's not true because Larry (bless him) also purchased an extended 2-year warranty for me, which lasts through June of next year. The lady at the front desk of the repair shop went to talk to her boss about my warranty situation, and while I only heard bits of what he said, while telling the lady that I'd need to call Toshiba to get my warranty straightened out, I distinctly heard the words, "Tell her to get ready for a headache." And since my life story is based upon things never working out smoothly, you know what I thought? I thought BRING. IT. ON. BITCHES.

And then this is how I was punished for swearing:

Now, I left my laptop at the repair place because I figured it wasn't doing me any good sitting broken at home, and I'd only have to drive it all the way back there as soon as I got things set right with Toshiba. And you know, maybe that's where I went wrong. Maybe that put a hex on the whole thing then and there. Because as soon as I got home, I called Toshiba, suffered through the endless "Press __ for ___" rigmarole only to end up in, apparently, the wrong department because the lady had to transfer me. Only she had transferred me to another wrong department, and I had to get transferred again. Then it was the third person who let me know that it was my manufacturer's warranty that had expired, which is the only thing they accept, and while I may indeed HAVE an extended warranty, it was purchased through the store from which my laptop was also purchased (Fry's Electronics) and Toshiba doesn't accept those nasty, inferior things. Oh, no, no, no. Just....no. I was then told to call Fry's Electronics (heretofore known as FE) to see what they could do, so I did. I called the store in Texas from where it was purchased, I explain the situation, they transferred me to their Service Center in California, and the guy there then told me (after exclaiming, "Wow, smoking?! Really?") that my best bet was to see if there was an FE in my area that I could take my laptop to. Well, there wasn't - the closest one is in Georgia, so I was told to call them and ask if I could ship my laptop there to be fixed. So - called them, explained the situation, asked for an address, was given said address, and just to confirm I asked, "So I can just ship it to you and you'll fix it?" And the lady said, "Oh no, you can't ship it. We don't allow that. We can't be held responsible if it gets lost or damaged in the mail. You have to drop it off here yourself. " You read that right. They wanted me to DRIVE MY LAPTOP TO GEORGIA. GEORGIA. SIX HOURS AWAY. So I said, "Screw that AND you. Okay, thanks," and hung up.

At that point my dad called me, and after telling him the story up to that point, he said to call someone as high up on the ladder as I could go, not just someone at a small store, and demand that someone help me. And that is me, isn't it? Demanding? Haha, yeah no. Anyway, I just grabbed the first 800-number I could find off the FE website, and I called it only to find out that the lady I had reached was only with the online portion of the company and couldn't help me. She asked me for the location of the store the computer was purchased from, I said Irving, TX, and before I could stop her, she transferred me there. Or rather...BACK there. And what happened? I was transferred to the Service department again, where I got the same guy I talked to earlier, and when I updated him on what I was told from the store in Georgia, he said that while it's rare, they DO allow people to ship things to them to be fixed, that someone was obviously being lazy since they "get heavily reimbursed for repairing those things," and that I should either try calling the other FE store in Georgia, the same store and ask for a different representative, or call the Home Office, of which he spoke very highly and PROMISED that they were incredibly helpful and would do whatever they could to help me out. That guy right there was the nicest guy I talked to during this entire experience, he was every bit as sweet as he promised the people at the Home Office would be, and the people at the Home Office? They were not. At all. No siree.

I dialed the number he gave me and I got a woman who said that there was nothing she could do, she didn't deal with my kind of stuff, so she forwarded me to some guy - I don't remember who at this point, I don't even remember if she told me - who proceeded to tell me that the only thing he could recommend was to call the place I bought it from (Texas again) and see wh- and then I hung up on him. I had given the guy the complete story - he knew I had already talked to the store in Texas twice, and I wanted to know where the HELPFUL people were that that guy had promised me! I called the Home Office one more time hoping to get a different person, hopefully a person who had a magic wand to fix my computer, breath that smelled of warm cookies so pungent that it'd waft over the phone and sooth my soul via good old fashion olfactory means, and I dunno...maybe an engagement ring just to top it off. My expectations had been driven THAT HIGH by the man at the Service department, and I so desperately wanted to find the kind service man he described to me over the phone.

SO! In my second call to the Home Office did I find him? NO! No I did not! It was the same woman as before, and I tried to tell her that I was given her number with the GUARANTEE that if anyone could help me IT WAS SOMEONE THERE. She said no, sorry, let me transfer you AND I. LOST. IT. I began SOBBING hysterically trying to explain the run around I was being given, that no one was giving me any helpful information, and that I was pretty sure this whole experience was going to kill me. Because it was. I was going to die. And wouldn't that be embarrassing? Having my obituary read "death by poor customer service?" And that poor woman had no idea what to do with me. She had put me on hold - UNBEKNOWNST TO ME - and I continued blathering on and bawling for a good five minutes before I realized that oh hey! No one is listening to me! Brilliant!

Next thing I know, she transferred me to the SAME guy I had hung up on not ten minutes previous, but it went to his voice mail thankfully, and you better believe I just hung up. So I called the OTHER store in Georgia, hoping someone there would just say, "Yes. Ship it here. Plain and simple, miss." And when the girl picked up, I explained the situation (again! I love the words "explain" and "situation!"), and I asked point blank, "Can I just ship it to you for you to fix pleasepleasePLEEEEEASE." And while she said "Yes," it was quickly followed by "Let me transfer you to our repair department."

At which point I got a busy signal.

So I called her back. She tried to transfer me again. I was on hold for FIFTEEN MINUTES only to finally hear the phone ring ONCE and then get a hang-up signal. OH. MY. GOSH. K1LL. M3. NAO. I then called the store for a THIRD TIME. It couldn't tell if it was the same girl though, so after taking a deep breath, I tried to sum it up, but it didn't go so well because I was only able to get out, "My laptop broke, I'm 6 hours away, and someone tried to transfer me somewhere, and I'm about to stick my hand in a blender. Do you have any idea what I'm talking about?" But she wasn't the same girl I had just been "helped" by, so of course she didn't know what the crazy, suicidal girl on the other end of the phone was talking about. I tried to elaborate a bit (the situation! it was explained! again!), and she put me on hold while she...did something. I don't know what, but next thing I knew she was back and explaining that apparently the lines of the company were down, but she could take my name and number down and the repair department would get a hold of me as soon as possible. (I have no idea what the difference between the service department and the repair department are, just fyi).

Next, I called the local place that has my computer, and before I could even explain a TENTH of the story, the guy interrupted me and asked, "So are you gonna come get your computer or what?" DOUBLE-U TEE EFF, SIR. See, before I had left the place earlier that day, the woman who was helping me had explained that they had dealt with things like this before, where Toshiba had the wrong warranty info down but it all gets sorted out in the end, so I figured that maybe there was something they could do, which is why I was calling. Apparently there isn't anything they can do for my situation, since Toshiba flat-out refuses any non-Toshiba warranties, but I DIDN'T KNOW THAT YET - I thought that there might have been some sort of loophole for people in complicated situations such as mine - and it would have been helpful if the guy had a) let me finish EXPLAINING! THE SITUATION! because I was on a friggin role, b) given me some advice since I was obviously getting no where on my own and he IS a computer expert after all, and c) explained why he was being such a dick. Ooo, I'm gonna slap him when I pick it up tomorrow.

Then finally, as a last resort, I attempted to find the guy who had been nice to me earlier - the guy at the Service Center. Problem was, he was one of the few people I didn't have a direct number for, and I had been way too blinded by frustration to get down a single person's name in this whole ordeal; but I went the only way I had been able to talk to him before. I called the store in Texas. For the bajillionth time. And as soon as the girl answered, I immediately asked to be transferred to the Service Center. And when a man answered, I got so excited. It just HAD to be him. I blurted out, "Toshiba. Dead. North Carolina. HandinBlender. Familiar?" But alas, it was not the same guy. He tried transferring me to the Repair department, only to be met with the same phone difficulties, and after offering to take down my name and number for them to call me back, I politely declined (did that already, remember?), hung up, and screamed into a pillow for an hour. THE END.

Okay, I guess it's not. I've not heard back from anyone, but at the very least the one store in Georgia DID say that I could ship them my computer, they'd fix it, and I'd only need to pay for Seriously Expensive Shipping. So there's that. That's good, I guess. But...well, I still need to pick it up, ship it, have it repaired, returned...that's a lot of steps for more bizarre and unforeseeable things to go wrong. I'll just feel a lot better when the whole situation (the one that has been explained ohmyfreakingeyeroll) is over and my laptop is back home and running again.

^(that was one last venting I needed to do)

*Nope, I was wrong, Larry wasn't my mom's art teacher - I got him mixed up with another man with whom my mother is still in touch with. Her art teacher sends me photography magazines every now and then, though. I wish I knew my mom's secret, that's for sure.

23 October 2009

7 Quick Takes Friday (Vol. 2)

The "I Can't Have Nice Things" Edition.


Yesterday. Yesterday I paid for my camera. Not just yesterday, but last night. Late in the evening. And then it wasn't even 12 hours later - not even half a day for me to enjoy a world in which all Stuff in my life was Working Properly or, at the very least, Being Repaired (I don't know why I capitalized some of the words in that sentence. Did it make me seem smart, or emphatic, or something? Maybe I was going for one of those.) - that my laptop died on me. And while Eliot may still be right about the end of the world, his words can't be applied to the end of my laptop, because there was nothing whimperish about it. My laptop, it started flickering like a strobe light, there was a crack kind of sound (a "bang" if you will?) and then smoke. SMOKE. Smoke. OH MY GOSH SMOKE. SSSMMMOOOOKKKEEEE. For reals - SMOKE. I don't know how else I can format it for you to accurately get across the magnitude and insanity of the situation, but there was OH MY EFFING GOODNESS SMOKE coming out of my laptop (a.k.a. my EXTERNAL SOUL).


Then it turned itself off, and it never spoke to me again. My electronics hate me. Luckily, I think my laptop is still under warranty, but who knows if that'll do me any good because, well...let's take a trip down memory lane, shall we? To just over a year ago, when my previous laptop looked like this:

That wasn't covered under the warranty. And most recently my camera wasn't under warranty. Let's see if the third time is the proverbial charm, shall we?


Did I tell you my car had a leak in it? Well, it did. Right below the windshield on the passenger (took me three times to spell that right) side, and every time it rained, I had a small pond on floorboard. It only took me about 8 months to figure this out, though (I thought that moldy smell in there was just me being shut inside a small space, because why would I ever think that it was raining IN MY CAR?) (and I found it out by placing something in the passenger floorboard one day after a heavy rain, only to pick it up an hour later and discover that it just had a lovely swim), and I so I decided it was about time to buy some koi fix it. Someone advised me to use some silicon, which I did, and now my car is forever a giant slime ball, because while the silicon was able to plug up the hole and fix my leak, it is also silicon which makes it water-proof and IMPOSSIBLE TO REMOVE EVER, EVER, EVER. And since I (and my mom. Don't let me fool you into thinking I was faking my way through a car repair by myself) had applied the stuff to a number of areas since I really had no idea where the actual hole was, AND I had to press down the, um, oh what is it? The liner? Rubber cover? Thing that covers the bottom 4 inches of the windshield and is somehow attached to the car just under the hood? Yeah, that thing - I had to press it down to make sure it was being glued (siliconed?) to the window, which resulted in a whhhhhole lot of silicon excess being pressed out and it spread everywhere. So now, not only is the leak gone and fixed and plugged and whatever, but my entire car is waterproof. Win-sortaWin. I could be a modern day Noah. But just on a much smaller scale.


By the way, this blog is MONETIZED! And it has been for, oh, three months or so? So far I've made - you're gonna want to sit down for this, because the vertigo you're gonna get from reading this large number is gonna knock you over, blow your mind, AND save your soul - bum-buh-ba-daaaaaaaaaah! $0.09.

Yeah, this here blog is gonna pay for all my broken stuff in no time.


Oh! And today at work! I cut my finger on cardboard! CARDBOARD! Who does that? How is that even possible? And it's not even a cut, it's a CHUNK out of my pinky finger, and it bled for AN HOUR. It didn't hurt or anything, until I got home and tried typing on the computer, because my exposed flesh is on the precise point on my digit where it touches the keys. Now, we don't have any bandaids in this house, because first-aid, shmirst-aid or something like that, so I had to tape some toilet paper around my finger just to give it padding, and now I've been typing this out with 9 fingers! Well, my pinky still uses the shift key when necessary, so I suppose it's still technically 10 fingers, but it can't be used for it's usual q, w, a, s, z duties, because this monstrous "bandage" thing just isn't made for single key strokes. ATHis ias what it looks like when iaz type weith thwat damb pinky. Clever folks out there will notice that neither the b nor n key are in the jurisdiction of my gimpy finger, so clearly I'm just a sucky typer as it is, given that I couldn't even type "damb" (damn! did it again!) with my good fingers.

If I were a racehorse, they'd shoot me.


And how did I forget this? I came home today - hungry as always - and went straight for some cookies which are stored in a round, plastic container. And in my attempt to pop the lid off, I cut my middle finger on my right hand. Granted, it's wasn't too deep, it's not a missing chunk, and there's no exposed inner layers of flesh pounding against the keyboard, so it's not a big deal at all (because my mutilated pinky finger is novel-worthy in and of itself, I KNOW). But who slices two appendages open in ONE day on plastic and cardboard? (CARDBOARD!) Just me, apparently. Juuuust me.


Now I'm wondering if this Seven Quick Takes idea is a bit of a waste for me. I feel like any one of these stories so far could easily have been posts all their own if I had just fleshed them out a bit. And I'm sure all of you are just DYING for me to expand on my 3 millimeter-long finger scrapes, am I right? But then I'd at least be able to post more frequently. I've got nearly a weeks-worth here already, by george! Of course, this DIRECTLY contradicts my very first comment I made last week in my very first Quick Takes post about how lumping them all together is "efficient" or something. I really can't make up my mind about anything, can I?


Okay, gotta end it here. I need to go redo all my homework. Oh, did I not tell you? IT WAS ALL ON MY LAPTOP.

21 October 2009

As soon as I come up with a title, I'm having ice cream. Ha! Done.

Oh, how dully this year is winding down. I had plans on going to both Hersheypark and Dollywood in October and November respectively, and now they've both fallen through. My mom and I have done Hersheypark in the Dark in the past twice, but we haven't been in two years. She enjoys it as much as I do even though she's not an enthusiast and she can't go on anything that goes in circles or upside down without making me feel horribly guilty for dragging her along getting deathly ill. But she loves the wooden coasters, she loves the town, and she even commented back when I was dating a fellow coaster enthusiast that she was worried that we'd never go together ever, ever again and oh how sad that made her. So here I am swinging single, in need of a theme park partner, and totally read to go to Hershey this minute, and lo! so was my mother! Kindred spirits, we are. But then her friend from Florida and her husband invited her to go to Savannah, GA with them, and that's what she chose to do instead. Which I understand, because, you know, it's not like I'M MOVING TO ANOTHER STATE IN THREE MONTHS or anything (and might never return! Ever! Maybe! Who knows!) And it's certainly not like I'm moving to the same state that her friend lives in and my mom would stay with HER if she ever came down to visit me. No, it's not like that at all. Annnnnnd...end sarcasm. Okay, I don't mean to sound all selfish, but really now - just build me up to knock me down, mother. Rip that Hersheyhope out of my cold, lonely hands.

And then I was going to go to Dollywood, because 1) I won two tickets, 2) I had scheduled a Character Audition for my Disney College Program in Nashville, 3) and my grandparents are only an hour away from the park. That gave me two reasons to make the trip, and I'd have free lodging. Fantastic. But then this thing with my camera came up, and no matter how much I tell myself what a good deal it would be to upgrade to the far nicer refurbished camera (because it would - MAN, it would), I simply can't afford it. Curse me and my responsible nature! Plus, I'm this close to paying off my credit card which I want so badly to cut up and never use again SO HELP ME, so with all these things I need to pay for, I've decided to cancel my audition and sell my Dollywood tickets (already did, actually), and save the small fortune it would cost in gas money to drive all that way. Bah. But at least I'll still be at Disney in 3 months. Else, this would be a really depressing off-season.

Also, I think I'm developing Restless Leg Syndrome, because for at least the past month (maybe two), my legs have started DRIVING ME CRAZY whenever I'm trying to fall asleep at night. And actually, they're driving me crazy right this minute as I'm sitting here typing this and not moving. They don't ache, they don't itch, they don't burn, but right in the calf and in the lower knee, deep inside the muscle, it's like there's this....intense gnawing, this insane desire to just move. You know when you played Simon Says as a kid and the command was "Simon Says freeze?" So you froze, but after about 30 seconds you began to realize that the person who was acting as Simon was nothing more than some cranky prawn who apparently hated kids and only roped them into playing this game so he could use the freeze command and have some daggum peace and quiet for those blessed few seconds, and now your desire to win and your desire to move are at war with each other all while being at war with Mr. Simon's experiment to see how long he can keep the kids silently frozen before they all give up and start running around the room and screaming and driving him crazy again? Well, my legs feel like they're those poor, poor children, and my inability to be in constant motion 24/7 is that ever so cruel Mr. Simon. They just want to moooooooove!

Is there an award for World's Longest Simile, because I'm pretty sure I just won it.

P.S. I don't think I like one button suits.

16 October 2009

7 Quick Takes Friday (Vol. 1)


Every now and then I get these random thoughts in my head that are slightly too long for twitter but too small for a blog post all their own (i.e. totally pointless, and your life wouldn't be lacking if I never typed any of it out). But then I discovered Conversion Diary. She invented this marvelous thing called Quick Take Fridays, and that's when I realized that God put her blog into my life for a reason. Not to bring me closer to Him or anything* - no, that'd be too obvious - but instead to show me the most efficient and valuable way to amass all trivial short stories of mine into one post once a week so that my imaginary readers out there can waste their time in bulk, rather than a few minutes out of every day (you know...by reading all those pointless blogs that I'm constantly posting on here. All the time. Everyday. Because I'm such a regular poster and all.)

*please note my facetiousness here. God enjoys a good chuckle too, fyi.

Anyway, let's try this out.


I work at a franchise portrait studio at one of the local malls, and as part of the check-in process with the customers, we always take down the children's birthdays (and about 98% of the shoots consist of children, so we take down a LOT of birthdays). Now, there's this (unrelated to my job, but related to this here story) thing called the Birthday Problem, which basically says that the number of people needed in order to reach the odds of 50/50 that at least two people share a birthday is.........23. I know. You'd think it'd be something a bit more (theoretically) common sense like 182.5, but whatever. It's called the Birthday Problem for a reason. And back to my job, I always like taking down the kids' birthdays out of the hope that one of them will have the same birthday as me, because kids always seem to flip out when someone shares their birthday (okay, I might flip out a little too, since I'm five years old and all), and it's cute and adorable and it's a good way to get on the good side of the kids before you blind them to death with about a hundred flashes. And I've been at this job since, what? January? February? I can't even remember now, but it's been a decent amount of time. And I have asked HUNDREDS of children when their birthdays are. Maybe even a thousand. So, just take a guess at how many of those children have had the same birthday as me. Seriously. Just guess. I'm gonna move on to #3 while you take your sweet, precious time guessing since this is becoming a longer story than I had anticipated.


I have a deviantArt page, and I don't know if anyone cares, but I've moved as of today. My account there is so old, I was still going by 'havenli,' and honestly, doesn't that sound like a name some lonely, pathetic high school freshman girl would come up with? Yes. Yes it does. And that probably has to do with the fact that I was a lonely, pathetic high school freshman girl when I came up with it. Yeah, it's THAT old. Almost a decade, which is terrifying to think about actually. Anyway, I've been desperate to shed that name from all sites I'm still active on, which is why I went through the tedious task of re-registering and reuploading a whole bunch of my photos under my new account. It's not all the photos (Lord knows that'd take DAYS), but at least the ones worthy to stick around. Oh, and some new ones are there too. So. Go there. Look around. You can buy some of my pictures too. That'd be nice actually. Real nice. Mama needs a new camera.


NONE! That's how many kids I've worked with at my job who have the same birthday as me. Not a single, solitary kid. Out of ALLLLLL those hundreds of children. I've even had twins come in who didn't share the same birthday as each other (one born at 11:something PM and the other born at 12:something AM), and really now, what are the odds of THAT? I'd put my money on it being less than 50% for every 1 in 23 sets of twins, that's for sure.

Anyway, there wasn't really a point to that, I just think it's weird, is all. My birthday defies the laws of probability.


Speaking of work, I've stopped liking my job ages and ages ago. I won't bore you with the details, but I've been looking for something else for a while now. The problem is, I'm moving to Florida come January 20th. So do I stay at a job I hate for another 3 months? Or do I find another job, knowing I won't be there very long. If it was a job I didn't care about, say...a grocery bagger or something else everyday with a high turnover rate, it wouldn't be an issue to me. But I just had an interview today with my church for part-time position in its pre-school, and they seemed to love me and I loved them and we laughed and cried and we saw rainbows and unicorns among us, and unless of they interview someone with actual teaching credentials (which is entirely possible), I think there's a good chance (better than 50% of 1 in 23 applicants!) that I might be offered the job. Only I'd have to leave in 3 months. And I KNOW I'd have to leave and they don't, which makes it worse because they even asked me about future plans, which I had to lie about. That's right, I had to LIE. IN CHURCH. Okay, I actually didn't lie. They asked about "next semester" with my class schedule, and I said that my classes would be no problem, and that's technically not a lie. I just withheld a little information. Which, FINE, it's just as bad, and I might as well stock up on Dermoplast Spray for Hell now. But still. I think I'd like working there. Better than where I am now (oh, how I do not like where I am now). But I would feel awful leaving them so soon like that. Then again, I don't even have the job, and might not even be offered the job, so I guess I'll just pray on it and cross that bridge when I get there.


Oh my gosh, I'm just now on #6 and still have #7 to go? Wait, this counts. Ha! Beat the system.


In case you missed the quick allusion to it earlier, my camera is broken. It's gonna cost $212 to fix, which was just AWESOME to find out, I'm sure you can imagine. Only Canon has this upgrade program where I can let them keep my camera, and I can instead upgrade to a better camera, though one that is refurbished. At first, the word "refurbished" scared me, until I realized that that's basically what my camera is being right now - "refurbished." So instead of getting my Canon Rebel XT back, I can get a refurbished Canon 50D for $629 (they're about $1200 new), and ohhhh, is it ever tempting. I mean, I have to spend $200 anyway, what's another $400 for a better camera? Well, it's another $400, I suppose, if you want to get all bogged down by the details. But it is such a great deal. I guess it's just one more thing to add to my prayer list.

14 October 2009

A quick little update

Ha! A full thirty-five days have gone by since my last blog, and did I not tell you it'd be at least a month until I got my fingers all tippity tapping on here again? You're lucky I have a mess of homework I should be doing instead right now, because it's my unwavering dedication to procrastination that is making this blog possible.

And in reference to that last post, the sleigh is a-movin', and I'm going back to Disney come January. This came about after I had a kindasorta nervous breakdown (which is being a bit overly dramatic, but that's kind of what I'm known for) last month, where I really had no direction and NO idea what the hell I was doing in any single part of my life, and in my ever-so-vulnerable state, all the demons from my past failures came out for a lively game of peak-a-boo (emphasis on the boo), and then - shortly after developing a small welt on the back of my wrist from backhanding a wall (remember? me? dramatic? overly so?) - then bits and pieces began to fall into place, and it just seemed right for me to apply for a second Disney College Program. So here I go. And truthfully, it cannot come soon enough. My mom and I always got along while living together, so I always thought the lack of rent was SO worth living at home despite my ripe old, pathetic age of 23 (and maybe a slight blow to the ego? maybe?), but for whatever reason, within the past couple of months, I've just had this overwhelming desire to get out. OOOUUUUTTT, God help me, I need to get out. And part of me wonders if, once I get down to Florida, I'll ever come back - if I'll do my program and return home, or if I'll fall in love with Disney all over again and decide to stay forever. I lost my desire to make a name for myself long ago. I'm not career driven, I don't need the world to know who I am, and who on earth do I need to prove myself to anymore? But I loved making minimum wage at Disney World. It wasn't flashy, it wasn't glamorous, it wasn't something I'd brag about a school reunion, but...well, it's called the Happiest Place on Earth for a reason, and that's what it was to me. So if that's what I'm meant to do (whether for 8 months or for 80 years), even as blue collar as it is, it's certainly a life I'm content with. Besides, at least it's a magical blue collar.

On the other hand, part of me wonders if, due to being unhappy with everything both before and after my last Disney program, I've simply romanticized and idealized my time spent there, and I'm gonna return only to find that it wasn't as fantastic as I remembered, and I'll just be all devastated and forced to go all emo on life, and I dunno, go join a nunnery or something (can you imagine? an emo nun? But that would be so very me...), but I guess that's just a risk I'll have to take.

And these three measly paragraphs have only taken me something like 4 hours to type out, so I think I'm gonna call it quits for now and look into this sleep thing that seems to be all the rage this time of night. Adios.