I don’t like yogurt, but I eat it nearly every morning. It’s my only calcium intake for the day (although coated in ‘cheese,’ Doritos don’t count), and sometimes it’s the only thing I consume with nutritional value. Why am I telling you this? Because I’m sitting here force-feeding myself yogurt while being sad about my once-thriving plant. Once-thriving because it is thriving no longer. I forgot to water it like two weeks straight. Can you believe there are people who argue with me about my lack of ticking biological clock? If I can’t take care of a plant, you really think I’d be a good mother?

This is way personal for here, but… I’m approaching 30 and I have yet to hear a clock ticking in my ear telling me to have babies. If I have a kid, I have one. If I don’t, I don’t. Sitting here right now, I’m really okay with that. I’m at peace with that. If I meet someone lovely and we decide to make a life together, and that life includes kids, then maybe it’ll happen. But if not, that’s great, too.

So, for the first time, this bank thing has an impact on me because my bank, Wachovia, is now in need of some serious help. Yikes. And I can’t help but think next summer, when I hope to buy a house by myself, I’ll have a more difficult time securing a loan.

Did you guys see the Steelers game last night? I was thinking to myself, even if they lose, this was still a really good football game. (Hooray – the Steelers won!) I really, really need to stop staying up so late to watch games, though. I’m so freaking tired in the morning. Although far more productive in the morning than evening, I still have a hard time getting out of bed.

Busy RBC weekend ahead. We got a new computer system, and I’ve only used it once and when it came down to crunch time on Sunday, I was clueless. So I volunteered to pick up an extra shift to get some more experience. I hate being responsible.

Where I work, bonuses are distributed, but you have to be there a year to qualify. Well, my team decided that although I’ve been around less than five months, I deserved a bonus. So I got one, which was totally unexpected and awesome. Any financial stress I had about Las Vegas and Los Angeles is gone. Cheesy, but more than the dollar amount, that they gave me a bonus despite my inability to receive one is worth more.

That last paragraph is NOT well written. Sorry.

I’m on a The Cure kick. What does that say about my mental state?

So, I’m very proud of myself. I recently had a difficult conversation with someone – a conversation that involved feelings - and I made it through safe and sound. If I had my choice, the conversation would have never happened. I would have let things go until my feelings dissipated, then been like, “Oh, by the way…” I’m so screwed up in that regard. So, so screwed up. I cannot say how I feel. If I love you, I can’t tell you. If I hate you, I can’t tell you. If I’m mad at you, I can’t tell you. In fact, regardless of which of the three I feel towards you, I’ll generally act the same. Like I said, screwed up. But I was forced (in a good way) to have the conversation, and I’m really glad I did.

I just sneezed six times in a row. But I’m not getting sick. I repeat: I am not getting sick. Do you hear me, body?

Um, so although my hair was dyed on Tuesday, people only started noticing at work on Friday…? A whole bunch of people came up to me and complimented me on my new color, and a lot of people thought it was my natural color. No, this is not my natural color, but my natural color (from what I remember) does have a ton of red. I pull red really well. In fact, if you tried to dye my hair blonde, it’d be red.

How’d you guys like the debate? So dramatic. Ty and I are planning an election day slumber party so we can stay up and watch all the political commentary like big nerds.

I’m getting sick. Dammit. It’s my sinuses. I told Aaron they were draining. He said his were, too, so he was spitting a lot. I told him I’m a girl, I swallow. (tee hee)

A good day is when I walk into my office and the message light on my phone is OFF. I hate listening to voicemail. I don’t know why, I just do. It’s one of my many (many, many) quirks. Today is a good day.

I think I’m going to have tea this morning. As I’m sure I’ve said on here, I’m primarily a tea drinker, but because of how much sugar I dump in said tea, I try to cut back on my consumption. And I have Starbucks once a week, although I don’t think I’m going to get any this week. My only day left is tomorrow, and tomorrow we have our monthly company meeting, which starts at 10:30, so I’m afraid if I drink coffee, I’ll have to pee during the meeting, and it’s embarrassing to stand up and walk out in a room full of oodles of people. I’d rather just not drink the coffee. That whole big, long, drawn-out intro was my way of saying: It’s chilly in Raleigh today, so I feel like having a mug of tea.

Last night Kristen and I went to the first pre-season hockey game and had such a nice time. One of the chefs was nice enough to give me his tickets, which were on the club level in a very good spot. Well, not that there’s any bad spot at the RBC Center, but club is my favorite level. I’m a snob, I know. So, yeah, went to the hockey game, chit-chatted with some of my lovely co-workers, drank girlie drinks (and a shot of tequila – the bartender was a pusher and cute and we couldn’t resist), watched the Hurricanes play like crap, ordered in-seat foods. It was a good night. Kristen needed a distraction, and honestly, so did I. Oh, and so weird. When I saw my co-workers, I can’t even tell you how many of them looked at me – in my trouser jeans (love them) and black turtleneck – and said, “Are you not working tonight?” Clearly, I was not working last night.

Right now my body feels soooo relaxed, just as the massage therapist said it would. She’s a smart lady! I feel like I’m made of jelly. I like it.

I just dropped my request for an absentee ballot in the mail. As far as I know I’ll be in Raleigh for the election, but I don’t want to deal with the lines and the traffic and the hassle. I’m a lazy voter, you see. The only downside: I will not get an I voted sticker. It’s truly a bummer.

I’m totally susceptible to advertisers and their jingles. Shel calls me an advertiser’s dream. Case in point: on my three-minute drive to work this morning, I heard a commercial for Bojangles. Can you see where this is heading? Yeah, I’m going to Bojangles for lunch. Ha! “Gotta, wanna, needa, gotta hava Bojangles!”

Oh! So they’re changing the name of my apartment complex, and it’s so stupid! The new name has nothing to do with anything, and is sort of a misrepresentation of some things. No, I’m not going to tell you the name. I don’t want you to come and visit me unannounced and be like, “Now that I know where you live, I thought I’d drop by for a visit.” And this is to the general ‘you’ because, like I’ve said, for the most part, I have no idea who reads this.

My hair is bright-ass red. I like it. It’ll fade by tomorrow, I’m sure. Boo to that, but it’s hard to keep red hair red. I’m done with my blonde phase, as fun as it was.

I had my first massage today. Whoa. Without being too graphic, when getting a Swedish massage, one is naked. Which I didn’t expect. Surprise! It was fantastic, though. I’d happily sign-up for another. It was my Christmas gift from Kristen that I only now got around to using. Silly me. Had I known what I was missing, I would have scheduled the massage for the 26th. But, yeah, naked.

So, here are my options for my wrist. Surgery or steroid shots. Well, I can keep taking Advil when it acts up, but once I can’t stand the pain anymore, they’re going to cut me open and remove the cyst (it was determined to be a Ganglion cyst). I don’t want to have to go in for shots, it seems like a waste of time. I’ve got too much to do in the next six months to worry about surgery and shots and not being able to use my hand, so I’m going to hope Advil does the trick for the time being.

In other news, I lost a pound in a week, which I wasn’t trying to do, but score!

Yesterday was nuts. Around 3:30 I agreed to proof Kristen’s resume. At 3:45 Quri called frantic from downtown Raleigh needing $130 delivered to her (long story). At 3:50 my father called because the 30 roses he ordered for my mother didn’t arrive, he was en route from Philly and needed to find 30 roses in Lehigh ASAP. I thought my head was going to explode, but it didn’t, each problem was resolved, and the intern outside my door got to laugh at my hectic little life.

Me, the temporary red-head:

I’m very, very, very stressed right now. And my head hurts.

Yes, I would like some cheese with my whine.

As I suspected, the Mountaineers did, in fact, lose on Thursday night. It sucked. I think this whole season is going to suck. It really does have an impact on me, like, I don’t talk about being a Mountaineers fan for show. I have a genuine, vested interest in that team, and it’s really hard to see them lose. I even dreamed about the loss that night.

Ok, my dreams. Kristen thinks I’m so weird. I don’t have crazy alien/spaceship dreams. They’re not filled with far-away places or talking plants. My dreams are based in reality, about people I actually know. Chances are pretty good that if I know you, I’ve dreamed about you. I dream about some people more than others, but it’s a pretty big cast of characters going on in my brain. I feel like my subconscious tries to work things out when I close my eyes. Generally it’s unsuccessful.

I have all kinds of appointments on Tuesday, so when I realized what a hassle it was going to be, I decided to just take the day off. One of my appointments is to get my hair dyed. It’s the first time I’m doing all-over color, which is nervewracking and exciting. I have no idea what color to go with. I want to be red in December, so should I get a jump-start on that now? Or should I keep the caramel that everyone seems to love? I’m definitely not going with brunette; my hair is too long and my face is too small to handle a mass of dark har. I’m thinking maybe a light auburn? Who knows.

Tomorrow is my parents’ 30th anniversary. I haven’t even sent a card. I’m a bad daughter.

Ugh. I didn’t check my work email last night. Well, actually, I haven’t checked it since 3:00 yesterday (current time of typing: 8:39am) and I have 32 unread emails. Uuuggghhhh. But seriously, I love my job.

I left work early to get my wrist x-rayed at the suggestion of my stumped doctor. Words you never want to hear from your physician: “I have absolutely no idea what that is.” But those were the words I heard, which sent me to a radiologist and the x-ray machine. Making things even worse, more interesting, confusing – the bump did NOT show up on the x-rays. The technician and I were like, “Um, where is it?” It was so non-existent that the technician drew a circle on her wrist in the location of my bump so she could adequately relay it to the radiologist. Oh my. Only me, I swear. I have a follow-up appointment on Tuesday with my GP to go over the x-rays and determine a course of action (which most likely will involve needles). If it didn’t hurt, I wouldn’t care. But it hurts. Oh! And people are squeezing it and then say afterwards, after I flinch and yank my arm away, “Did that hurt?” YES!


Kristen needed a suit so we went shopping last night, which was fun. She needs petite, I need long, so I was getting a kick out of trying on her jackets, which looked like ¾ sleeves on me. She was whining about being petite, I was whining about being tall, and it just proved the age-old adage: the grass is always greener on the other side.

Okay, so on Tuesday I was leaving my doctor’s appointment and Kathryn called wanting to know if I wanted to go downtown to hear Ben Stein talk. I was all, sure, that sounds interesting, so off we went. Turns out it was the freaking Greater Raleigh Chamber of Commerce annual dinner. Which was very fancy. Which we were unprepared for. We were totally Romy and Michelle, way out of our league, feeling imposter-ish, but laughing about it. Ben Stein was awesome, alternating between humorous stories and economic lectures. We were bummed that we didn’t know to dress for the occasion because Kathryn is a clotheshorse, much more so than I am, actually. And it would have been fun to dress up. Instead, I was wearing wide-leg black pinstripe pants (Ann Taylor) and a white wrap shirt (Express), so I didn’t look like a bum, I just wasn’t as fancy as the other people.

My beloved Mountaineers play tonight and I’m anxious about the game being on national tv. We looked like poo against ECU, so I’m afraid that’s how we’re going to play for the rest of the season, which will be rough. I’m not a fair-weather fan; I’ll support the Eers regardless of their record, but I really, really want them to do well. It’s been so fun seeing WVU on the cover of Sports Illustrated and ESPN, and I don’t want it to end. I’m trying to kick all of my pessimistic thoughts out of my head, but it’s not working because, truly, I’m a pessimist. I’m a happy pessimist, but a pessimist none the less.

Okay, so three people told me that the picture I posted yesterday looked like a deformed foot – LOL. Below you’ll find a picture in which you can see my fingers. I have an appointment tomorrow afternoon to get it checked out, and I know the doctor is going to be pushing on it and making it hurt. I’m going to be like, “So, um, can you not touch me? Thanks.”

When I told my mom about it, she said my dad had the same thing when he was younger. Thanks, Dad! I got your hair, your eyes, your smile, your love of books and your calcium deposits!

And in other news, the blue thing my hand is on is actually the SOFTEST BLANKET IN THE WORLD. Seriously.

Another view

Another view

I’m on a big Ben Folds kick right now. Probably because he’ll be in Chapel Hill on Thursday, probably because his new song was just released, and probably because he’s my favorite. Below for your viewing/listening pleasure is a list of my favorite of his songs. Well, they’re my favorites for which videos exist.

Where’s Summer B?
One Angry Dwarf and 200 Solemn Faces
Not the Same – album
Not the Same – LIVE!
Annie Waits
And, of course, Army! (the line is actually, “son you’re fucking high”)

Had I not spent $200 on a dress for Gregory’s ‘wedding,’ I totally would have scalped tickets.