United

Not much new on the Aussie front.

Except now I'm a union representative. Cool, huh? We'll see how this one goes.

And the question of the day: black or grey?

Rain, rain

It rained all day. This made for AWESOME sleeping weather this morning. And then I got up and had to go to work.

Boo.

I am going to a Baby Shower this weekend. They are registered at Burlington Coat Factory. Really? They're really thinking ahead by getting that summer baby a load of coats...

In other news, it has come to my attention that MMMono does not read my blog. I came to discover this as I engaged her in a conversation under the assumption that she had the necessary knowledge from said blog and she was lost and I had to verbally tell her my blog entry. Not nearly as much fun. Also, Fail for MMMono.

And now, this is officially the trashing MMMono blog. She'll never read it anyway. Go on, it feels so good!

New Career choice

I am making the plunge. I am changing my career. No more waiting.

Wait for it....I am going to join the military to become a spy.

Seriously. Guys! Stop laughing!

Okay, maybe I've been watching too much Burn Notice...

Nonchalance

I am attempting it. I am attempting to be okay with this situation, but I am simply not happy with the way my life is turning out. It is making me upset--reclusive, even. It is very difficult to get out of bed unless it is absolutely necessary. Even then, it takes FOREVER. I feign nonchalance, a lack of caring or strong emotion in the face of it, but how could I be nonchalant?

I went to see Rent--local theatre was putting it on and my friend a super hot, tragically gay friend--we'll call him Bari-- stared as Mark! That had the opposite effect as originally intended. I LOVE Rent, you guys. LOVE IT! Like, I was going to move to NYC and live in alphabet city and dance in the moonlight. Just depressed me a bit. The youth and wonder of my life is gone.

I have this stuck in my head, because BOY and I communicate in song sometimes and this is what he told me to do.

Wait, the line was where?!?!

Kids, I have crossed the line. Apparently, I aimed for the moon and hit the Delta Quadrant.

$port and I were chatting as per usual whilst I was "working". Abridged convo as follows:

Aussie: Are you emotionally prepared for me to make a bitchy comment?
$port: I'm always ready for that
Aussie: Good. One of the new ladies at work put up a picture of her 4 kids. It is a portrait studio pic and not only is it "funcitoning" as a calendar which annoys me greatly, but they are some ugly kids. I do not want to see that at work.
$port: Wow. You really need to quit your job - it's making you evil
Aussie: LMAO [No really. I laughed out loud and for an extended period of time]
$port: Seriously. That was an UBER bitch comment
Aussie: I warned you. . .
$port: No, bitchy is that someone smells funny. Don't even try to cover it up. Just go to confession and hang your head in shame

Will do, $port. Will do.

Guys, I really need a new job. It is a matter of my eternal soul's salvation. It took a great deal of soul-searching and moral direction for me to refrain from posting aforementioned pic on this here blog so as to let you all vote on the alleged ugliness of the children. Instead:

But, I didn't know that could happen

I was too tired to blog this yesterday, so you get this story today.

I was inspired by the rain to think summer thoughts. Of course, this translated into me driving through the yucky rain to go to te mall to look for a sundress. I found myself in Kohls (too dark), Rue 21 (too trashy) and finally Old Navy. Old navy had great colors, a variety of cuts--I still can't eyeball a dress and tell if the cut will flatter me or not--and I was excited.

I took a bunch to the fitting room for fun. I tried on this dress in blue, looked into the GORGEOUS reflection in the mirror and fell in love.

Too bad that when I turned to see the back, I about died. The scrunchy on the bottom hit right under my typically cute butt--and ruined my butt. It also made it appear that I had back fat. I HAVE NEVER TRIED SOMETHING ON IN MY LIFE THAT DID NOT MAKE MY BUTT LOOK GOOD. I AM VERY UPSET ABOUT THIS.

You see, friends, now that I have taken a breath, I know that this happened because the dress did not flow. It is the dresses fault, not mine.

Needless to say, I gave up on dress shopping for the day until I have reinforcements.

It's gonna happen. Happen sometime!

You guys--something exciting has happened. I applied on a whim to the Naval Library in Quantico--you know, where Agent Gibbs works. Well, I got an email today. Guess who made it into the final round of application eliminations! That would be me. So in a token "DO NOT REPLY TO THIS EMAIL OR WE WILL BLACKLIST YOU AND ALSO SHRED YOUR APPLICATION AND REMOVE YOUR IDENTITY FROM SOCIAL SECURITY BECAUSE WE CAN DO THAT" email, I was informed that after a final review of applications, I might be asked for an interview-- ("THIS IS NOT A JOB OFFER"). Honestly, with all of those capitals, how am I supposed to know where the important parts are?

So, here's hoping. DC would be--I can't bear to count chickens, you guys, but suffice it to say that this may be what I have been waiting for. Here is hoping. I find myself praying about it every spare moment. For instance, right now at work, while I am writing this blog entry, I find myself stopping typing mid-sentence as I become overwhelmed with what is undeniably the most hope I have allowed myself to feel in quite a long time--and then I pray.

In other news, I was reading an article on CNN Money about why people hate their jobs now more than ever...and they interviewed this guy who works 80 hour weeks and hasn't gotten a raise in 2 years and was taking an offer with hirer salary and less hours. Smart! He decided to write a ginormous letter of resignation detailing what a shitty position he had...and the columnist said(paraphrasing) "yeah, don't do that. Ever. Bad life choice." Apparently, they can consider that to be your date of leaving instead of giving a 2 weeks and screw you out of vacation pay out and benefits. Yikes.

Oh, and yeah. Read this. I feel like Moi might actually be good at it...

More laters, but for now, it feels like maybe this time I'll win.

Man. Up.

By far the best thing about my relationship with $port is that I can say anything to him and he can say anything to me and we are cool. For instance:

$port: I broke my leg.
Aussie: Walk it off.

Aussie: $port, don't do that again. It makes you look like a proverbial chicken. You will never get laid.

$port: It's not that you're fat, you're just not attractive.

Aussie: It looks like something crawled on your head and died. Get a haircut.

$port: If you were on welfare, I feel like you would spend it wisely--on Patron.

Aussie: Seriously, Jew nose.

Okay, maybe that last one was too far and made him legitimately upset. Whoops. Walk it off.

In addition, our conversations are riddled with supportive phraseology
including but not limited to:

*man-up
*Go big or go home
*A lame blind man could xyz faster/better/with far more awesome
*I hope you die cold and alone
*Grow a pair
*what doesn't kill you was not properly executed. I'll try again.

So, when I told him that he needs to follow this hygiene regimen in order to man it up, I am happy to know that he understands me.

Oh my ball!

Epic. That is what this week has been. Have to admit, started out pretty mundane, made a turn for crappy, and then shocked the world by rocking solid.

Today is Noa's birthday. We drank shots last night to Noa Kritzier. Best idea ever: shoot tequila without limes or salt and chase with---wait for it---snack pack.



We went to a decent but still ends up being shady and adventurous local dance establishment. Random guy number 3 decided that I was cute--which I was in my jean skirt and trendy accessories. So, we're dancing rather platonically--twirls and all--and he is attempting to make conversation while staring at my boobs without me noticing the gawking. Also, relatively certain that the spin/twirl move was invented by a guy that needed an incognito way to check out a girl's rump. Neither of these maneuvers is very effective when done drunk. The conversation was especially stimulating.

RG3: What's somebody like you doing in a place like this?
Aussi: It's my friend's birthday.
RG3: Did you bring all your friends?
Aussi: ...no? Wait, I don't understand--of course not.
RG3: Do you come here much?
Aussi: Not really, no.
RG3: I swear I've seen your face before.
Aussi: . . .sorry, I don't think that we've met before.
RG3: What's your name? What you drinking? Baby what's your sign, tell me yours I'll tell you mine.
Aussi: It's been fun. Talk to you later, bye!

Toi, I know that you're on to this...and I'm sure that the rest of you feel some sort of deja vu sense tingling. Thank you, Timbaland and Katy Perry, for sponsoring this club convo. I will never be the same.

No, really, still alive

Let's pretend that you don't need a 5 week update. It's all the same and too depressing to acknowledge that. EXCEPTING the use of flip-flops everyday now that the weather is nice.

Hmmm...I've been reading some really shitty books as of late. No, seriously. Worst books EVER. I feel like I can't do reader's advisory, but reader's dis-advisory. I suppose telling someone what not to read is still advise, so it is still advisory, though, isn't it.

I started watching LOST. I just finished the first season on DVD. wtf? Must get Season 2. It is currently in transit. Dominic M...whatever...Pippin is still alive and I know he dies at some point, because he quit the show or whatever. Other than that, I have no idea what happens excepting that there are 5 more seasons of them on the island. It is so suspenseful at the end of every single episode, I think I might die. I don't know how people hung on to the cliff for an entire summer. Mind boggling.

Nothing else to report.