Wednesday, October 20, 2010

I'm baaaaack. With another review for an album you should buy.

Ok. It's been awhile since I rapped at you. Mostly because of the whole "moving to Thailand and starting a blog about that" thing. Anyway, all the same, I like to keep this blog going for stuff like telling you why you should buy this KT Tunstall album.

Pretty much I didn't need any convincing on this one because I've liked her since the "Suddenly I See" song I still have on my marathon-mix. And apparently, "Black Horse and the Cherry Tree" reminds my ex-husband of me in some horrible way, so there's that.

Anyway, I got this one late so I've only been able to listen to it a few times today (again the whole living in Thailand and getting mail here thing) but I effing love this album. Here's why:

1. The first song is GOOD. I'm not sure how you say it, but "Uummannaq Song" rocked my socks right away. I like it when albums do that. I like it even better when the first song isn't the only good one on the album.

2. I understand that some of my friends aren't so much into this music. Whatevs. If you like Brandi Carlisle, I can't see where you wouldn't/don't like KT Tunstall.

3. She looks really good on the cover but I don't think she's into boys, fellas.

4. The CD is really cool too. I like the drawings in the booklet. Reminds me of "Where the Wild Things Are."

I'm not saying this album has quite the depth of lyrics that a Brandi album does, but KT sounds great and this is pretty good pop music. I'll try and upload a few tracks onto my Facebook page so you can have a listen.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Give Me Some Money.

Yeah. So about two months ago, one of my coworkers asked me if I wanted to bowl for some Big Brothers Big Sisters charity event. I pretty much wanted to say, “FUCK NO”, but for whatever reason, I was feeling generous that day. So I said I would. That’s all I heard about it until last week. That’s when she gave me my PLEDGE FORMS. WHAT?

I have a personal policy on shit like this. I already give what feels like half my freaking paycheck to the United Way, therefore, I don’t give money to fundraising stuff. In return, I don’t ask other people to donate to fundraising stuff. BECAUSE I DON’T DO IT. I appreciate the goodwill bullshit but I think most people are tapped out. Between fundraisers, jewelry parties, and charity stuff... I get the feeling most people would probably benefit from the very charities they’re constantly being asked to throw their money at.

WHICH MEANS I AM SCREWED. Because I HAVE to do this shit and I HAVE to raise $100, so unless my parents bail me out, I’m going to be giving $100 of my own money to a charity that made my life miserable for 4 months with the most rotten “little sister” a girl could ask for.

In related news, I would not be opposed to receiving random checks in the mail marked “BOWLING FUND.”

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

There must be a sign on my back I'm not aware of.

So, I was at the grocery store and the lady bagging my stuff asks me the whole, “Is your hair naturally curly?” thing. I tell her it is. This is generally the part where the other person goes on and on about it and I just stand there listening and not knowing what to say in response without sounding like a self-absorbed asshole.

Well clearly this was not going to be an issue. She said back to me, “Oh you must get SO sick of having that.” WHAT?! Dudes. Who in the hell says shit like this outloud? I just said to her, “Not, not really.” And she said, “Wow. I would.” AND THIS WOMAN HAD AN EFFING PERM. THIS MAKES NO SENSE TO ME.

Anyway, in related news, I’m thinking I might grow my hair out. I initially was going to do this in an effort to save money on my expensive hair-styling services. However, I still have to get it “trimmed” when I’m in there for the dye job, and I get charged the same price for a trim vs. a regular haircut. WTF is that about. I’d like to ask but the power of the scissors is mighty.

In unrelated news, I just got off the phone with my mom, who told me, “When you were two years old, I told your father you’d be a terrible flirt that gets married 5-6 times.” THANKS MOM. And for the record, that would never happen. I absolutely hate planning weddings.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Well, I'm a real asshole.

Yeah. So today is my boss’s birthday and NO ONE BOTHERED TO TELL ME THIS. I’m one of three direct reports she has and I didn’t even give her a flipping card. There goes my raise this year.

Speaking of work, most days I have a snack of some kind while I’m here because I’m not very good at eating a “real” lunch during the work week. And also because sometimes I’m just hungry for one. Usually this involves fruit or popcorn because I only eat like 10 different foods total. Yes. I’m aware that this is not normal. ANYWAY, if I’m eating popcorn, someone has to comment on it EVERY FUCKING TIME. As though the concept of microwave popcorn is so foreign, or so unattainable, that every one of my effing co-workers has to live vicariously through my consumption of it rather than just buying some of their own.

I’ve been unusually tolerant of this bullshit but today I cracked. The same fat woman who always says shit to me about being skinny, blah, blah, blah, (in that fake nice way that’s meant to make me feel bad because she has to wear stretch pants all week) said something again about the popcorn and how she’s surprised I’m not fat because I eat it three times a week. HUH? This makes no sense but whatever. She’s standing there, telling me this, with a package of King Sized Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups in her hands, so I told her we should compare nutrition information on our snacks. Because in my estimation, hers has more fat in it than I probably eat in a day.

I think I might’ve “nipped that in the bud.”

In other news, I’m finally tired of country music. Minus Keith Urban, Brad Paisley, Sawyer Brown, and… shit. Nevermind.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

I am not very insightful.

Well dudes, I’m going to be 31 in exactly two months from today. Yeah. I know. I can’t believe it either. HAVE YOU SEEN MY LEGS.

Anyway, this morning I was getting ready for work and I suddenly realized I was using a fucking anti-aging eye cream. I mean, I bought this shit myself so it’s not like I didn’t know what it was. But all the same. It didn’t fully hit me until today. Then I started peering into the mirror closely and identified some very small wrinkles in the corner of my eyes. One in between my eyebrows too. And fucking A. I could have grey hair and not even know it, since I can’t even remember what my natural hair color is anymore. I almost had a melt in the bathroom. I could barely get my mascara on. It was serious.

I guess a part of me is starting to feel my age. Mostly in a good way. I look pretty good for my age, I act like a total moron most of the time, and 24 year-old guys with really great bodies, etc. seem interested enough in me, so I should be thinking this is the best time of my life, right? And I do. But somewhere inside, I hear this little voice shouting shit like, “YOUR METABOLISM IS GOING TO START SLOWING DOWN”, “THAT OCCASIONAL KNEE PAIN IS GOING TO BE A REAL ISSUE SOMEDAY”, and, “YOUR HAIR ISN’T ALWAYS GOING TO LOOK THAT GOOD.” At this point, I easily ignore this voice with booze and cigarettes. But at some point, this voice will win! Because it’ll be true. And I’ll be left with fuzzy hair and a knee brace.

There really isn’t any point in all of this so don’t go looking for some closure or deep meaning here. I’m not Mitch Albom or Dave Barry for chrissakes. I’d just like to keep living but always look like I do now. Without having to marry a plastic surgeon. How can this be arranged?

In other news, I am no longer eating microwave popcorn at work. Everytime I make it, someone is like, “OH MY GOD. YOUR POPCORN SMELLS SO GOOD. I WANT SOME.” Yeah. I bought it at the store. You can get some too. Crazy shit, I know. That's what I said to my co-worker yesterday and she just said, "You're so funnnnny!"

Uh huh.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Well, this is what’s annoying the shit out of me today.

Whenever I take time off to run a race, my boss always asks me, “How was your marathon?” Dude. Get real. Not every damn race I run is a marathon. And also, judging by the fact that I’m limping around like I’ve got a peg leg, I’m guessing my “marathon” DIDN’T GO SO GREAT. This would also be evidenced by the fact that I already told her WHAT HAPPENED DURING THE “MARATHON.” Which solidifies my suspicion that she tunes out whatever I’m saying. How nice.

Which leads me to myself. I am annoying the shit out of myself today. It takes me for-fucking-ever to get anywhere and I make these wincing faces whenever I stand up, which is sorta knee-jerk and unavoidable, and very much something that would get on my nerves if I saw someone else doing it all the time. So, the lady who sends me forwards every day must really hate me right now and I don’t blame her. I guess we’re even.

I somehow got a run in my tights (NOT LEGGINGS) and everyone is pointing it out to me. Yes. I know. And what the fuck do you want me to do about it anyway? Go buy new ones right now, so I can stop answering your dumb questions? I’d happily do this if I could escape this place long enough to get in my car and never come back. As it stands, each time I get up, someone is coming towards me and needs me for “just a minute.” Yeah. Right.

I suppose I should be all happy tree people here to balance out this “negativity” since the New Year just started and whatever. My hair looks good today. And I just realized that the sweater dress I’m wearing is see-through. So there you go.