Jester of Tortuga

What a fun weekend. Toi and I have been missing over the past few weeks. We finally figured out that Saturday would work...and then MMMono was like "I AM MAGICALLY ALSO AVAILABLE!!!!1" The stars truly aligned, friends.

So, Toi and I went for an outdoor adventure involving ledges and climbing, but not like Billy Goats. And were eaten alive by 512 mosquitoes.



Then we went to dinner, made Sangria, and then MMMono showed-up with a new pet fish. Good times. We gossiped while watching Community and Doctor Who and then we went on a Spotify playlist/YouTube spree. While drinking and eating no bakes--I stirred with love.

There was some definite hot/sexy here (and photoshop):



My biggest contribution to the night was this piece of EPIC AWESOME:

Another witchy post

As the summer is winding down, I am actually thrilled with the prospect of school starting. Well, that might be inaccurate. In fact, that is entirely inaccurate. I love getting paid when I am not working--why would I want that to stop? I am thrilled that I will be done with MCC as of today--Thank. The. LORD. It....has been ridiculous. I hate the patrons because they are so rude. I hate my boss because she not only micro-manages, but also speaks to me as though I am a mentally retarded six year old with anger management issues. I hate the other adult staff because they all tell me what to do, but in that sort of "I'm just letting you know...this is what I would do if I were you, but I'm just clerical staff, so it's up to you" kind of way. I hate the asinine rules.

As example of the huge bowl of stupid: The Library Catalogue computers are only to be used for the library catalogue, but they have full access to the Internet and Microsoft Office Suite and do not require a separate log-in for printing charges. SO, this is a great way for a student or a community member to work around the system so that they do not have to pay for prints. Therefore, I am expected to police any individual who spends more than "a minute or two" at the library catalogue. My reaction? Why don't you just lock down those computers so that all they have access to is the library catalogue? The answer I got, oh so satisfying "This is a public school. We can't do that." I...I don't think you understand my point. I'm not saying that you should do it to all of the computers, but you *can* do that on these select few, since you are enforcing this rule and heckling people, I don't see the difference, really. And! when someone was actually printing records of books--they had like 10 or 15--the head librarian was like "We should have them stop that. They are wasting paper. No one needs that many WebCATs." And then she stood there looking at me like I should go and tell this patron to stop looking-up books. So, I walked over and said something sweet and helpful to the general effect of "Hi, I noticed that you are doing a bit of research. Anything I can help you find?" And then I helped the patron find all 12 books that she was looking for. And, yes, she checked them all out. Like I said: ridiculous.

In sum: I want to go back to my high school job where people treat me like an adult, view my opinions as informed, and my boss leaves me the fuck alone.

Feeling...whole

For reasons unbeknownst to myself, I was watching television this morning. Not a DVD of a TV series, but actual, live, broadcast television. Weird. One of those commercials came on, you know the ones, for some shampoo that is supposed to be better than the others. They started with the classic opener "Split ends?"

Which got me thinking...I might have split ends!! I proceeded to grab a tuft of hair and look. Nope. Hmmm. How does one acquire split ends? save me, Google!

After consulting multiple resources of questionable and not-so-questionable repute, I have come to the conclusion that I **must** have split ends, I am just too dense to see them. Which is alarming, because my hair is long enough to look at quite easily, and I already have glasses, so it can't be vision problems, surely. I...I am just retarded.

According to the literature, hair typically becomes split 3-4 weeks after the last time the hair was cut. If you take good care of your hair--conditioning, avoiding sun-damage, etc.--you can stave-off split ends for up-to 6 weeks. When was my last hair cut? November. That's 9 months ago!!!! There is no way that I do not have split ends...it just doesn't make sense. Googling further, I even found this lovely graphic to help...but, alas, I suck at life.



If anyone had even the smallest tinge of doubt before, I think it is irrefutable that I am not, have never been and will never be a girly girl. Oh well.

Feeling...unknown

On Thursday, MMMonoca called me. I approximate the conversation:

Aussie: Hi!
MMMonoca: Hi-ii!!!! What are you doing Saturday. I presume you are busy, but if not, would you like to be my date for a wedding? They have an open bar!!!11
Aussie: I think I can swing that...what time?
MMMonoca: Yay!!!1 I'll drive. Pick you up at 2pm.
Aussie: anything to help a friend!
MMMonoca: Also, Free Booze.
Aussie: Win!

****

Saturday. 8:30am.
MMMonoca, via text: How long does it take to get to Fennville from your house?!?!?!

I didn't realize the wedding was in Fennville..All good!
Aussie: 50-60 minutes.
MMMonoca: also, I'll call you when I'm, near your house. Despite the fact that I have been there MULTIPLE TIMES, I have no idea where it is.
Aussie: Okay!

***

After picking out my jewelry and embarking on our journey on Saturday:
Aussie: Look! Are you there Vodka, It's Me Chelsea ! I love this book! I'll read it to you on the drive!
MMMonoca: First, {locks doors; begins speeding down the highway} you should read the binder on the floor...somewhere. That's what we have to do to set-up the wedding. P.S. We are getting there 3 hours early to set-up the wedding.
Aussie: ...
MMMonoca: Yeah. I told her two weeks ago to let me know if she needs anything, Then we met-up and she gave me this binder with pages of instructions on table-top directions, and .
Aussie: Oh. Dear God.
MMMonic: I know.
Aussie: ...

The bride, who I met on her wedding day, helped for about an hour, until the groom appeared. Then she fled to get ready. I was **shocked**, as an aside, at how long it took her to get ready. We visited to ask a few questions multiple times and she was **still** applying make-up. Friends, I have never applied make-up in my life. I am deathly allergic to it. Deathly. I cannot imagine that it takes an **HOUR**. Jesus. Crisis averted by Aussie.

As we gave-up on finishing touches based-on time constraints and the presence on guests, I wandered to the toilets.

**WARNING. GRAPHIC CONTENT ALERT IN FOLLOWING PARAGRAPH**

I wandered to the toilets to change my tampon. Prior to squatting, I ascertained that the facilities were outhouses in disguise. Horrible rouse, friends. Horrible. It is a testament to love of MMMonoca, I not only urinated, but also changed my tampon in the outhouse. All that was provided for sanitation and hygiene was some half-ply toilet paper and a vat of Meijer-brand Hand Sanitizer.

Gross.

The wedding was lovely. They are an adorable couple. they even physically fit together. Repulsively adorable.

Then, the reception. I was finally allowed to get a drink! Yay! Many minor shenanigans ensued, including, but not limited to: the bride getting muddy, us laying-down a mini golf tarp thing to cover the mud at the bridal seat, distributing paper lanterns, ordering around the caterers, and taking Polaroids of the guests for the guest book.

When the music started, we knew it was getting to be about time to leave...so MMMonoca told the bride that we would be heading out. I would like to at this juncture point out that we were not the first to leave. The bride responded to MMMonoca's perfectly civil "I love you, but we have to get going" with a terse "Whatever."

And then--and I'm not sure how this happened because I was **incredibly** drunk at the time--I was designated the keeper of the top layer of cake. You know, the one that the bride and groom keep for a year in their freezer and then they cut into all cute again on their first anniversary. When we pulled into my driveway, I saw from the light of the door ajar that the cake was, in fact, ruined. The icing design was stuck to the side of the box. Dammit. Bridezilla is going to flip. I'll see if I can fix it, for MMMonoca's sake. Currently, I have a lovely top-tier cake in my freezer. I texted the girl who is supposed to come and get it. No dice. So, if anyone wants stale cake in a year, let me know!

Through all of the drama, at least we agreed on one thing: neither of us will be this high-maintenance at *our* weddings.

Feeling magical...

I got this in my email at early o'clock this morning:
You have been selected for early entry into Pottermore!

We’re really excited to confirm that you are one of the lucky people selected for early entry into Pottermore, ahead of when it is open-to-all in October, to help us add finishing touches!

We will activate your account between mid-August and the end of September, so keep checking your inbox for our Welcome email. When this arrives you will be able to enter Pottermore. In the meantime, you can check the Pottermore Insider for all the latest news, updates and announcements.

We look forward to welcoming you to Pottermore.

I am getting the impression that I am going to receive at least 37 more emails from them. Maybe I am just a silly American in need of immediate gratification, but when you said "We’re really excited to confirm that you are one of the lucky people selected for early entry into Pottermore, ahead of when it is open-to-all in October, to help us add finishing touches!" I thought you meant, like, NOW. But, at least I got to the next level of not-actually-being-any-closer-but-being-reassured-that-I-am-in-fact-closer-to-entering-Pottermore. Yay?

Feeling adventurous

In leaps and bounds of exciting...I have officially planned my summer 2012. I am going to Europe and Egypt. For the entire summer. There was a sale on 2012 escorted tour packages, and I just couldn't pass it up. The tour *starts* in London, but doesn't actually have any events or what have you in London, so I will likely go 4 days to a week early. I am also toying with the idea of hitting two countries that the tour skips. The tour ends in Amsterdam, so it is a short train ride to Brussels. From there I can see Belgium and Luxembourg! Then I would pretty much have Western Europe done, you guys. You know, per my master plan to SEE EVERY COUNTRY IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!!!!1 See?!?!




The tour is 47 days, including the day of flying to Europe. I don't have flights yet, since it is forever away. I know that I'll be up for London before the tour--do we think that I could soldier through Belgium solo without dying of exhaustion? And they speak French in Belgium, so I'd be good there!

Think on it...if you want to go to London in June (Olympics are in late July, so it shouldn't be too crazy yet) I'll be there! You should come! One last hurrah in cheap hostels before we become fabulously rich adults who are above all of that.

Oh, and Pomme, I promise not to die in a toilet.

Party every day

Guys, I think that I am getting too old for four-day weekends in Chicago with my favorite cousin. It is just so exhausting. Also, I am really tired...I am blaming it on the heat, but I think that part of it is that I am old and less accustomed to drinking and then drinking and then drinking more and then repeating this the following day(s). There was much protestation when I insisted on sobering-up before I went to Church.

But! we did stay up to watch the sun rise, which was fantastic. I need to upload those pictures, because they are just...fabulous. And fun. And I got to play with Pomme! Despite it being 90 million degrees outside, she looked adorable and unfazed by the sauna that we were in. I felt so inadequate, words cannot describe. I mean, honestly, the juxtaposition must have been uncanny.

Anyway, we went to this vegan restaurant where I promptly ordered a vegan milkshake, as I have not had a milkshake in eons--since months before I became vegan because I foolishly chose winter--and then I was incapable of finishing my pancakes, though they were delicious. Thanks, Pomme, for putting up with my crazy vegan-ness!

My cousin also had that crazy roof top party even though they weren't supposed to...they just cancelled the DJs. We skipped out on it, though, because none of his cool friends were coming, only the lame and/or weird friends of his roommate. When we got back the next morning, the place was trashed. Trashed like...

YOU GUYS! I was trying to remember Keith Richards's name, so I Googled "celebrity trash* hotel" and I found this...it is sooooooooooooo epic!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1!!


The first instance of modern hotel room trashing can probably be traced to F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, who reportedly fled their eucalyptus-scented bungalow at the now-demolished Ambassador Hotel of L.A.'s Wilshire Boulevard after it caught fire.

On fire! The hotel room caught on fire! And they ran away! EPIC!

I really want to read The Great Gatsby again, even though I'm going to be thinking of fires and Leonardo DiCaprio through the entire thing.

I forgot to tell you about the interview part.

You guys! I was so vicariously upset about something that does not actually matter to me that I forgot to tell you about the interview part.

So, yesterday, I was interviewed by someone at a local publication about trends in youth literature. I was referred to this person because, as he put it "I was told that you are not a traditional librarian, meaning that you are not in your 50s."

No. No, I am not.

We chatted about trends in teen and youth literature and I hope I sounded smart. Or, at the very least, like I know what literature is.

Then, at the end of his barrage of questioning which I navigated, dodged, weaved, and deflected successfully, he confirmed a few things, like the spelling of my name and my title.

MagazineGuy: I was told that you are a "Media Specialist." Is that correct?

Aussie: No. I am a Librarian; I have my Master's. Off the record, "Media Specialist" is some b.s. they made-up in the 90s so that schools could hire people to work in the library who have no corresponding degree. And librarians went along with it because they thought it sounded more cutting edge and would connect with the students more. Media Specialists get a certificate--you can get one from GVSU. It is not a degree.

Guys! I hope that you got the important part of my story. I used the phrase "Off the Record" with an actual reporter! This is huge! This is so epic!!!!!!!!! All I have left on my "Phrases to Say Before I Die--and they actually have to be said to the right person-- List" is the all-important "Alonz-y, Alonso" and, of course, "Beam me up, Scotty." So, one more thing off of my life-long list of shit I need to get done.

Oh, and don't call me a Media Specialist. It ends friendships.

And then they interviewed me.

It has been a long week. Why did I decide to work all summer? Oh, right. MMMono convinced me that I needed to save up money and beef-up my resume. Haaaaaaaaate being an adult.

I have decided that instead of buying a house, I am going to spend my money on large trips abroad. We're talking African Safaris and European summers and big ass outback tours. I...I simply do not want to work all year and since I can't take vacation during the year, I need to spend the entire 9 weeks of summer in not Michigan. After crunching some numbers, this means that I will be spending 90% of my dollars on travel for the foreseeable future. Then, after 5 years of working at ye old high school, I will start trying to find a year-round job and take my vacation in one or two week bursts like the rest of the world. I think that this will be a viable substitute for the study abroad experience that I so sadly missed-out on at AQ.

In other news....CHICAGO WEEKEND! I am excited. However, the roof party that my cousin and his roommate had planned is no longer a go. Lame.

email from their management company:

Hello,

It has been brought to my attention that a big rooftop deck party is being planned at the building for tomorrow night.....to include a DJ???

This is to inform you that the rooftop deck is for your quiet enjoyment, not for large quantities of people and definitely not to include a DJ.

As a reminder, I have included the verbage from #8 of your lease rider:

8. Balconies and rooftop decks are to be occupied by no more than three persons at any one time, and shall not be used for storage or grilling. The porch or roof deck of this building should withstand a minimum of 100 lbs. per square foot live load, plus the weight of the porch or deck system, and is safe only for its intended use. PROTECT YOUR SAFETY. DO NOT OVER LOAD THE PORCH OR DECK. Any misuse of the rooftop deck will result in the termination of your lease.


To whomever has this party planned, I strongly advise that you cancel it immediately. The police will be called and we will enforce the provisions of your lease should we find any more than a few people on the rooftop deck.

I appreciate your cooperation and look forward to a peaceful weekend.

Thank you

Lame lame lame lame lame. What are they afraid of? A law suit if the roof deck suddenly collapses? Pshh. Oh. They *are* worried about a law suit if the roof deck suddenly collapses. Well. Uh... Right. It won't matter because we will all be too drunk to even care when we're plummeting to our imminent deaths. What's that? We would care.

Whatever. You spelled "verbiage" wrong. And, by using "verbage", you are simultaneously acknowledging that your rules are "Speech or writing that uses too many words or excessively technical expressions" AND that we are smarter than you so we should get to use the roof deck however we want anyway. So there.

Mortified

Sometimes, I simply cannot help feeling...I don't even want to say it, but for you, I will...Sometimes I cannot help feeling sorry for myself. I know that playing comparison games are just stupid, but I just can't help it.

Let's re-cap for those in the audience who do not have their fingers on the pulse of my family drama.

My mother, eldest in an Italian family of 6 kids, is super pissed that I am not married and barefoot and pregnant.
My brother, who is 27 to my 24, still does not have a job.
I am daddy's little girl, though he tells me when he thinks that I am being foolish or stupid.
My brother is a complete mama's boy and in her eyes, he can do no wrong. Even when he goes with his band on a cross-country road trip "tour" where they are not getting paid for playing, the van starts on fire and they lose half of their equipment, and then when he gets home he proceeds to couch surf for 3 years and still does not have a job of which to speak.
Brother is currently in Charlotte hanging with the Grandparents who are playing hospital shuffle.

Are we good?

Well, I discovered on the Facebook the other day that he has a girl friend. Hmmm. She looks familiar, because she's been at the house a few times playing his chauffeur. Of course, I figure that when you're dating someone and you bring them to your house that you introduce them to your family as "My girlfirend x" not "this is x". Silly me. So, I asked him. They've been dating for 3 months. THREE MONTHS and I find out on Facebook? Ugh. Whatever.

But, it is my life, so it obviously gets better. She is 20. She can't even drink yet! And, and she is at GVSU going into Hotel and Travel Management or some other bullshit that I had no idea was an actual degree.

On the plus side, maybe I can use her hotel discount in the future to score some savings. She can be my personal William Shatner!