Netflix, will you go out with me? July 30, 2007

If it seems like I’ve been writing about Netflix a lot lately, its true, I have been. It’s also true that I love Netflix. Like, so so much.

Lately it seems like I only have two settings—full throttle or no throttle—and I can only do so much…throttling before I want to…ahem…throttle myself. Ha! Oh man that was an awful joke. Whatever. The point is that when I’m at home I want to be not thinking about moving/packing/deferring loans/saying good-bye or any number of other stress-filled activities, and so lately I’ve been watching a lot of movies. Which is what I was all set to do last night. I had spent the day packing some stuff (A month early! I am on the ball! And yet still stressed out!) and cleaning my house and doing my French homework. At 7:00 I was ready to not be doing any of that anymore.

So I reached for my Netflix pile of goodness, and that’s when the magic happened. I discovered that they had sent me two discs that both said Rebel Without A Cause. I assumed one was special features or something, and grabbed the one on top, fully ready to commit to watching a ‘classic’ movie which, while practically guaranteed to be great, wouldn’t necessarily provide the same level escape as say, Bridget Jones’ Diary. But whatever—I was ready to go with James Dean and Natalie Wood and the whole gang. But! BUT! When I pulled out the disc it wasn’t Rebel Without A Cause at all! It was Season Four Disc Two of Sex and the City! Which is just as escape-worthy as Bridget Jones’ Diary—perhaps even more so since I can’t actually recite then entire series by heart.

What are the chances of that? I mean, I’m sure there are mix-ups at Netflix all the time, but I imagine it’s more like someone is expecting The Soprano’s Disc Three Season Two and ends up with Wagons East or some other such monstrosity of cinema. And I’m sure there are plenty of people in the world who would consider Sex and the City a poor substitute for classic Hollywood cinema. However, I am not one of those people. It was like the God’s of TV viewing had smiled upon me.

Thank you, Netflix, for not being fooled by all the black and white movies in my queue. It’s like you can see right into my heart.

You’re Welcome July 27, 2007

I just wanted to let you know that my Goddamn Rock Solid Ghetto Shiznit Name is:

Wankmaster Kawfi

Please tell me yours.

Am Terribly Busy and Important July 27, 2007

Starting this weekend my life will begin careening wildly, gathering force and momentum, spinning and pushing and changing and then suddenly, approximately 54 days from today, I will stumble off an airplane and into a new world. A world that will require mosquito nets and possibly the slaying chickens.

We are hosting a going away BBQ this weekend (me, and The Lovely Miss Q and Beezzz—they are also going away, IN LESS THAN TWO WEEKS, and thank God I am too because TLMQ is one of those people who I would generally like to be NOT AWAY but I guess this is OK because we are both going away and where I am going there is a good possibility I will be distracted by a debilitating case of giardia), and after this weekend THE FOLLOWING 9 WEEKENDS ARE PLANNED. And 10 weekends from now? I will be in Cameroonholyshitholyshit. That is what I call it in my head—Cameroonholyshitholyshit. I will try to curb this tendency once I’m actually living in Cameroonholyshitholyshit. But not a moment before.

So, this weekend—BBQ of sadness and nostalgia and reminiscing, all greatly enhanced by alcohol and friends and maybe a Frisbee. Next weekend is by birthday and Dr. Jones has kindly saved me from having to do any planning or work or anything else so distasteful by hosting a BBQ of her own. Thank you thank you thank you, I totally meant to plan…something. Right. The next weekend will involve yet another going away party in Oregon, hosted by my charming mother and guaranteed to be chock full of relatives and music I don’t really enjoy. The next weekend will involve packing and driving to Vancouver, BC to pick up T-Bone and Grandmaster Flash who I guess are just too lazy to ride their bikes back to Seattle AFTER RIDING THEM TO CANADA. God. The next weekend I will go camping with everyone I know—so not so much camping as having yet another BBQ only at this one I can just pass out where I am standing instead of trying to find my way home. The next weekend I will move my stuff to Oregon. The next weekend I will be on a road trip with T-Bone involving such glamorous destinations as the Tillamook Cheese Factory and Crater Lake. We are equally excited about both. The next weekend will find me drunk and mostly likely crying in either Connecticut or New York with TLMQ and Brookers. And I believe the next weekend will find me in Cameroonholyshitholyshit.

Wow. Are you as exhausted as I am? If all goes to according to plan I will also be fitting in both a tattoo and a sky diving trip, although hopefully not at the same time.

[Holy crap! I sound like The Most Exciting Person in the world. So I feel I must share with you a more accurate description of my life: I spent last night watching The Holiday with my cat, and I totally loved most of it, and I cried. TWICE. Even worse than that? I started out watching a somewhat reputable Robert Altman film and then turned it off in favor of watching Jude Law experiencing the Magic of Christmas. So you see, I am actually both The Most Exciting Person in the world and The 2nd Corniest. (The Corniest Person in the world is obviously T-Bone, and that is only part of what makes her so awesome.)]

Anyway–I hope to see anyone who’s reading this at one of the various events mentioned above. Or, you know, in Cameroonholyshitholyshit. I can’t guarantee you won’t get diarrhea, but if you come visit me I will totally buy you a beer, and maybe even slay you a chicken.

I’m So Excited! I’m So…Scared… July 25, 2007

In the last month or so, ever since I got The Big News, I have said once sentence more times than I’ve ever said anything other, with the possible exceptions of “More cheese, please” and “Of course we’d like another pitcher”.

And the thing is, I’m not writing to complain about that! I want to make that clear right away because I know that sometimes I can be little complain-ey—although only in completely charming and original ways. I love that I constantly get to say “I’m so excited!”

The reason that I constantly get to say it is that people are constantly asking me “Are you so excited?” And I say to them, “Yes! I’m so excited!” Co-workers ask me, new-found relatives ask me, Guilluame from my French class asked me. It’s all the time with the asking.

And every time I say “I’m so excited!” I really mean it. I really am so excited. I’ve never experience a sustained bout of sincerity for this long! I mean typically in life, no matter how exciting something is, at some point along the way someone will ask you if you are so excited and you will say “Yes, I’m so excited” and you will totally mean it—you really are excited. But whatever it is that you are talking about has lost some of its initial magic—too many mentionings (yes, I know this is not a real word) have made it seem sort of mundane or at least less shockingly awesome than it used to, and you know that you won’t be able to recreate that initial intense feeling until the moment that new thing actually starts. Too much anticipation of something can suck the joy right out of it.

But that hasn’t happened to me, and I don’t think that it will. Last night at the grocery store I ran into a friend of a friend who knows that I’ve joined the Peace Corps and she asked me where I’m going and I told her Camerooon and she said “Are you so excited?” And I said “Yes! I’m so excited!” Just like that. I was totally speaking in bold and I felt my eyes getting large and twinkly and I couldn’t keep from smiling as I said it. (Or at least this is what I imagine my face looks like in these moments—it’s possible it actually resembles more closely the face of person who’s just done a tremendous amount of cocaine.) I then realized that this happens every time I say the words. And that made me sublimely happy.

Of course, in my head what consistently follows the “I’m so excited!” bit is the “I’m so…scared…” bit because even now, approximately 12 years after I stopped watching the show, Saved By the Bell has sort of hunkered down in my subconscious, and I can’t even think the phrase “I’m so excited” without mentally flashing back to Jessie Spano in a horribly awkward leotard, freaking out in Zack Morris’ arms, “so scared!” because OMG! She’s hooked on caffeine pills. How else could an over-achieving, perfectionist high school student cope with the combined stresses of being a teenager, getting straight A’s, AND being part of the greatest girl band ever, Hot Sundae? Drugs. Over the counter drugs.

Something about the total and utter absurdity of Jessie Spano and her Bayside ‘Highs’ (hee) comforts me though. While nothing would please me more in life than being able to claim that I have nothing in common with Elizabeth Berkley, it’s true—I too am so excited! So scared…

I’m only going to bold that first part though.

21 Things (I Thought Of All The Funny Ones…All Other Items Contributed By Grandmaster Flash) July 24, 2007

11 Things That Aren’t Quite As Good As You Remember:

1. Lunchables
2. Jem and the Holograms (the cartoon…the doll with the light-up earrings is still pretty cool)
3. Color Me Badd
4. Squeeze-its
5. RL Stine
6. Charles In Charge
7. Slip ‘n Slides
8. Bologna
9. Teen Spirit Deodorant
10. Lemonade stands
11. Hallmark stores

10 Things That Are Just As Good As You Remember:

1. The Oregon Trail Computer Game
2. Super Soakers
3. Cap’n Cruch Berries
4. You Can’t Do That On Television
5. Legos
6. Anne of Green Gables (the books and the mini-series)
7. Cheers
8. Glitter (as in arts and crafts, not Mariah Carey)
9. Summer vacations
10. Fletch

Train of Fools July 19, 2007

Do you ever have that moment, when you are trying to explain something to someone, and you suddenly realize that while you may understand your task well enough to complete it, you don’t really have any idea how to explain it to someone else?

Lately I am having that moment approximately every 4 minutes. Its like I’m having contractions of dumbness—and I’m terrified that they’re getting closer together. I’ve been doing this job for about two years now, and contrary to anything I’ve ever said or written about it, I do it fairly well. Certainly my bosses have never complained. But I’ve never had a burning desire to work in telecom—in fact, the only reason I work in telecom is because I DID have a burning desire not to be employed by Barnes & Asshole any longer. I’ve learned some telecom stuff, some of which is moderately interesting, and some of which isn’t. But I suppose I never fully mentally committed to this job—from the beginning I knew I’d only be here until I figured my shit out.

Well, it would appear that I’ve figured some of my shit out, and as a result I get to quit my job. What is that opposite of that saying ‘every cloud has a silver lining’? Is there a saying like that? I need one, because quitting my job? It’s like this great big puffy cloud of happiness. But this puffy white cloud is also lined, and with something other than silver. Because the downside of quitting the job I hate am ready to leave is that I have to train my replacement. And having to train my replacement means being forced to realize that there are many things that I do here without concern for logic or explanations. I just do them. Because I am told to do them. And until now that method has worked out just fine for me.

It turns out that when explaining your daily tasks to a fresh-faced newbie in mind numbing detail, it helps a lot if you actually know those mind numbing details. Whoops. And so it is a bit like the blind leading the blind around here, only the blind person in front is trying to play it off like they’re not blind. The blind person in front is all No, he’s not a service dog! He’s just really well trained. Anyway what do you know? You’re blind.’ I’m not entirely convinced that the blind person in back is buying it.