Self-Indulgent Ramblings

Apparently, if you’re going to steal priceless art, Oslo is the place to do it. Geez!

I want a spoonful of peanut butter. I mean, a gigantic, messy spoonful of peanut butter. I’ve also been having a lot of cheese cravings lately - eating shredded cheese by the handful. Disgusting, I know. But so yummy!

I think I need to be getting more protein.

Is Married. Yup. My little brother is officially married. I witnessed the event myself. Against all better judgement, she went through with it and now my little brother is married. Of course, all weddings seem to center less around the couple and more around asking all the people there who aren’t married why the hell they aren’t and when they’re planning on either a) getting married b) coming out of the closet and demanding the right to be married or c) joining a convent. This is, of course, magnified when you’re the oldest - not only of three children, but also of all 20 of your cousins - and you’re attending your younger brother’s wedding.

To make matters better and worse… I brought my {gulp} boyfriend with me to enjoy the festivities. Oof. It was great to have him there and my aunts just thought he was darling. BUT… it made the “so, when are you two getting hitched?” all the more present. I mean, he was there, with the family, at a wedding, right? That MUST mean he’s got a ring in his pocket! And he liked playing with my 15-month-old cousin Allie… he likes kids!!! There’s hope for Jen yet!

You know, I don’t spend all of my time trying to convince people to be single. I don’t go around saying, “It won’t be long until you could leave him, you know!” Why do married people always assume that it’s the only way for people to be? It’s not even a concept I completely understand, for Pete’s sake! I mean, the fact that my brother has now passed into a married state just doesn’t compute. I mean, it does in some ways, since he has whole-heartedly married every girl he’s dated since he was 13. But the reality of the fact that he is now a married… just doesn’t make sense. My parents have been married as long as I’ve known them… so they’re married people. My friends, my brothers, my cousins… most of them were NOT married when I met them. So they are NOT married people. This is not a flexible state in my mind. It’s just the way things are. Even people who’ve gotten divorced since I’ve known them are still married in my mind. The whole concept is ridiculous!

So dear married people,

Stop trying to marry the rest of us off! I don’t need to drink that kool-aid!

Other than the constant eyebrow raising and nudge-nudging about my marital status, the wedding was lovely. Short service, cute flower girls, crazy family (I watched as my aunt explained to her pouty 6-year-old daughter that she was making it the worst day of her life.), free booze… all the ingredients for a great wedding.

It freaked me out when the photographer told me to stand next to my sister. Neither my new sister-in-law nor I has ever had a sister. So that was a weird sentence to hear directed at us. Particularly on our third meeting.

In the north… you turn on the lights. In the south… you cut on the lights.
In the north… you mow the lawn. In the south… you cut the grass.
In the north… you use an umBRElla and celebrate ThanksGIVing. In the south… you use an UMbrella and celebrate THANKSgiving.
In the north… you carry a purse. In the south… you carry a pocketbook.
In the north… you say “F*@# YOU!” In the south… you say “Bless your heart.”

Today, I am excruciatingly unbillable. I was too efficient this week, so I managed to finish my tasks yesterday… and have nothing left to do before I head out tomorrow for my brother’s wedding. So I sit quietly in my pod watching Daily Show clips and listening to the goings on around my office. And here are some things I heard that make me laugh.

• Hiccoughs. I think hiccoughs are hysterical. I’m not sure why, but I just always find them funny. Even when I’ve had them all day and they send a dull shock of pain through every muscle in my body… they’re still funny.

• A 40-something co-worker of mine just gasped and said, “Shut up!” in disbelief as if she were a valley girl a la 90210 or Mean Girls. Who does that?

• I can currently hear three guys talking about… I can’t tell what. But what I do hear is that laid-back yet still nerdy guy excited tone where you know they’re talking about a video game or a motorcycle or something.

• I’m convinced that the entire admin staff at my doctor’s office has no idea what the hell is going on.

• I’m convinced that life is too short not to sing along with the muzak. (Myself, I tend to harmonize with the muzak.)

• I’m convinced that people wander around with those bluetooth things permanently implanted in their ears to let other people know that there is always the possibility of something more important than them coming along.

• I’m convinced that, sometimes, the universe is just mean for no apparent reason (to lose your job AND get poison ivy… and then RE-get poison ivy just as the first batch is healing… and THEN have to go with your girlfriend for a weekend to deal with her crazy family!?! That just seems like my {gulp} boyfriend is getting a little more than his fair share of crap… though he did end up getting a new, better job… so there’s that. But still!).

By the way… I had a FABulous birthday.

Okay, Thursday I was travelling back from Chicago. That’s right - the same day as our latest terror scare. So we were all checking bags in order to avoid having to surrender our various and sundry liquid/gel toiletries. And, as I plodded through the security line at O’Hare International Airport… it occurred to me: I think that the TSA is just messing with everyone. They just decide what they want, and then they ban it on airplanes.
“Hey, do you guys need some mini Swiss Army knives? And how about some toenail clippers? Awesome! They’re banned!”
“Hey guys, I’m kinda thirsty. Let’s ban liquids. And heck, I could use some fruity shampoo and toothpaste while we’re at it. I’ve got kids in college, after all!”
I mean, I definitely saw one of the security guys open a cabinet behind the station… where I saw a brand new bottle of Crown Royal. You’ve gotta believe that duty-free is going to take a hit with this one, eh?

And then it occurred to me… why should they be so specific about the nature of the threat? Aren’t they giving people ideas? What if they just started banning random things to mess with people. “From now on, no cotton underwear will be allowed in the cabin.” Everyone would go nuts trying to figure out how cotton underwear could possibly be involved in the latest terror plot.

We also decided that we should market a sort of body stocking and lobby that it become regulation plane wear. Or maybe we should all just wear those old-fashioned onesie pajamas with the footies and the trap door in the butt. It offers a certain advantage for body cavity searches, eh? (Eeeeiiieeewwwww… I just grossed myself out.)

Anyway, those are the bizarre thoughts I’ve been having while traveling over the last week. This weekend I’m taking to the skies again… this time with my boyfriend… so I’m thinking we’ll have plenty more ridiculous thoughts to consider.

I love my birthday. I love the whole week of my birthday. I love that my birthday is on a Friday this year. And you know what’s funny? Now that I have my MySpace page… I’m getting a lot of birthday lovin’… cuz it broadcasts that my birthday is approaching. So I’m getting all kinds of fun birthday wishes. I love that.

…I’ve performed several improv shows, traveled to Miami for a big grown-up conference, performed a Shakespeare comedy, still managed not to find a new apartment… all kinds of fun stuff. And… I found this:

I’m sure I’ll have more to write soon. Wednesday I go to Chicago… for 24 hours of a client’s conference. Friday is MY BIRTHDAY!!! Then the following weekend my boyfriend and I fly to Yellowstone (well, we fly to Bozeman, MT and then drive an hour and a half to Yellowstone) for my little brother’s wedding. Then the day after I get back from the wedding, I hop on another plane for a trip to Omaha. And, somewhere in the midst of all this, I’m supposed to interview two candidates looking to double the size of my department (you know… from me to… me and someone else).