About my x365 project.

August 28, 2008

So, x365!

I don’t write here enough, and this will at least give me a feasible reason (a feason?) to make a damn effort daily, within a prescribed formula.  I tend to be successful with formulas (see: standardized test scores), and since I have two handy helpers in GlitterPaintPony, who is joining me, and in WordPress’ schedule feature… I should have a decent chance at success!

My formula is 50×365 – that is, fifty words, no more, no less, for each of three-hundred and sixty-five people.  I’ve written my list (with a few extras, just in case I decide that no, I don’t really want to write about you after all).  I’ve given a few select folks pseudonyms, I’ve alphabetized ’em all and I’ve written and scheduled my first few posts.

I’m excited.  I’m sure that eventually I’ll lose my shit about it, but at this moment, I’m pretty excited.  Wish me luck!

An experiment.

August 27, 2008

I do believe that I’m going to start x365.

Wish me luck.

Stuff and nonsense.

August 26, 2008

I think I assign too much thought – too much feeling – to inanimate objects.  I get attached in ways that are likely beyond the norm.

I had this car, a Honda Accord, for several years.  She had a name.  Her name was Beatrice.  When we needed to tell a secret, or share an opinion that must needs go unheard by the unspoilt ears external, my friends and I would wait to enter the sanctity of Beatrice before spilling the precious vapor of the untold.

When Beatrice started to lose her energy, her spark, her verve (and her brake pads), I began to search for a new vehicular pal.  I found her in Lizzie – Eliza Eglantine – the comely Subaru Legacy, who has thus far been nothing short of excellent.  However, since my folks actually owned Beatrice, when I took the plunge and bought Lizzie, they made arrangements to sell Beatrice.

I cried.  I lost my shit, I wept over my sweet car.  We’d had such times together.  And I didn’t even get to say goodbye.  I drove Lizzie home after her tuneup, and Beatrice was just gone.  I found out later that she hadn’t even gone to some poor high school loser in need of a first car – she went to a man we knew was a shady drug dealer, who cannibalized her for her parts!

I felt terrible – almost worse than I felt after my initial betrayal.  Such a good car, she deserved a much sweeter end than to be disassembled and distributed across the plains.

When I got my Samsung flip phone, I felt bad for abandoning my little blue phone – and now, when I got my iPhone, my elation and enthusiasm were marred with a sense of guilt over my Samsung, now forever quiet on the window ledge.

And now, I feel I must betray my computer.

I won’t be getting a new one yet – replacing you would be expensive, little one, and you’ve been very dear to me.  Even though that one time you downloaded all the porn in the universe, unbidden, and caused a massive system failure and hundreds of dollars of repair work.  I understand.  It was just a mistake.

But now, you’re winding down.  Our time together is coming to an end, and we can both see that.  It’s not that I don’t love you, old computer – it’s just that you’re not quite giving me what it is I need right now.  I’m sorry.  I know it hurts.

I’m saving for a Mac.

Fall Preview.

August 25, 2008

Hello, all.  Sorry for the extended absence. Crazy few weeks, I’ve had.  Here’s a sampling.

I was the maid of honor in an absolutely beautiful wedding, spent all of my mad money on the bachelorette part(y)ies and am pretty sure that the author of no woman’s land still has my fancy green dress.

I drove through Washington, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, South Dakota, Minnesota, Iowa, Illinois and Indiana, effectively ticking seven states off of my list.

I investigated (in a small and far-off way) the possibility of pursuing a Ph.D. in Public Policy with a doctoral minor in Arts Administration.

I took a vacation with a couple of friends that involved drinking, smoking, and laying in the hot tub, as well as driving through the creepy Sea of Lava via the Cascade Lakes Scenic Byway and eating some of the best sushi I have ever had.

I had two dates with a pretty woman, and have another scheduled for this evening.

I discovered something that really, really modified my opinion of a colleague.

And my formerly good opinion of a supervisor continues to plummet. (Not my boss-lady.  She’s still good.)

So, that’s my coupla weeks in a nutshell.  Good times, eh?  It won’t get simpler!

-mym

Thank you for opening.

August 14, 2008

I am tired and I don’t want to think in sentences. However, I must point out the following important things for the good of mankind:

-It is ridiculous for the NBC Olympic Spotlight things to use background music poached from Last of the Mohicans or Braveheart or whichever epic Hollywood film I’ve mixed up on my four hours of sleep, especially when profiling the Chinese artist who designed the logo for the Olympics.

-It is a really excellent idea to take your oldest underpants on a road trip, and just chuck ’em when you change ’em.

-It is important to recall that, when travelling east, you LOSE TIME.  If you expect that your drive will last ten hours, you are correct… unless you cross two time zones.  Goddamnit.

-When I left work on Monday, I told my boss to call me if she needed anything.  She protested mightily, declaring that she wouldn’t bother me – this was my vacation!  Everybody can wait, it’s not important.  I said it was alright, go ahead, I’d answer my phone for her.

She’s called six times already.  Ha!

-The iPhone and AT&T 3G network is totally functional and helpful and awesome from Seattle, Washington to Bozeman, Montana, and from Albert Lea, Minnesota, on to Peoria, Illinois.  Bozeman to Albert Lea is a fucking wasteland of disastrous proportions when it comes to service or connectivity.  Luckily, the entire trip went like this:

EAST on I-90

-mym

A mixed blessing.

August 7, 2008

SO I joined match.com – and was immediately sucked into the good times.  And also the bad times.

I’ve been emailing with a really cute girl who seems to really get me – she has a lot of the same feelings I do, pet peeves, likes, dislikes… she even writes with a cadence similar to mine.  It seems like she’s into me, and I feel like I’m into her.

I’ve also been emailing with another girl – one who ‘winked’ at me, and since I was flattered I began a conversation.  Turns out, she doesn’t drink, doesn’t swear, and is a big athlete.  Turns out, when it comes to me, that is the trifecta of incompatibility.

Also, I don’t ever want to play two-truths-and-a-lie over email.  How does that work?  It’s not even fun if you don’t know someone a little bit already.  Especially when it’s introduced like we’re all in lesbian dating kindergarten.

“Here’s a fun little game for you.””

Nope.  I don’t want to play it.

Sigh.  I’m being a bitch.  She seems perfectly nice, and it’s not her fault that I’m a judgmental whorebasket.  Or that I’m feeling way more into this other girl.

And about THAT… we’ve been emailing at a pretty fast pace, usually exchanging at least one long and thoughtful email, each, daily.

I haven’t heard from her for two nights.

This dating thing.  It’s fuckin’ complicated.  I feel bad for not wanting to go on a date with the girl who is emailing me in a socially awkward way.  And then I feel bad about feeling bad, because I should get to date who I want to – what the hell would anybody want with a pity date?  And then I feel excited and nervous about the other girl, and THEN I remember how long she’s taken to respond and I feel like… oh God, does SHE think I’M socially awkward?  And then I have to reread the emails to make sure I haven’t acted like a total fuck – it seems that I haven’t – and I berate myself because two days, really, in the scheme of things… and we only know each other over the internet.

See, see?  See what my brain is doing?  Could you even follow that?

I am going to bed, goddamnit.

You make me wanna shoop.

————-

A bit of listage:

All the karaoke songs I’ve ever sung in public, solo or group, in alphabetical order–

Avalanche – Dixie Chicks
Baby Got Back – Sir Mix-A-Lot
Bridge Over Troubled Water – Simon & Garfunkel
Dancing Queen – ABBA
I Can’t Make You Love Me – Bonnie Raitt
It’s All Comin’ Back to Me Now – Celine Dion
Natural Woman – Aretha Franklin
My Lovin’ (No, You’re Never Gonna Get It) – En Vogue
Wind Beneath My Wings – Bette Midler
Work It – Missy Eliott

All the karaoke songs I’ve ever sung in public, solo or group, from good to bad–

Natural Woman – Aretha Franklin
I Can’t Make You Love Me – Bonnie Raitt
It’s All Comin’ Back to Me Now – Celine Dion
Wind Beneath My Wings – Bette Midler
My Lovin’ (No, You’re Never Gonna Get It) – En Vogue
Work It – Missy Eliott
Dancing Queen – ABBA
Avalanche – Dixie Chicks
Bridge Over Troubled Water – Simon & Garfunkel
Baby Got Back – Sir Mix-A-Lot

All of the karaoke songs that I wished people would stop fucking singing, already, oh my god, how does this song have another verse–

All That Jazz – Chicago
White Wedding – Billy Idol

Karaoke songs that I never want to hear, ever.  Ever.  Ever in the ever to the power of ever–

Hotel California

BLEARGH.

August 7, 2008

Okay, guys, HELLO, motherfucking I HAVE EYES.

The following exchange happened this morning, talking to a friend – we’ll call her Dana – and her NOT SO SECRET secret lover, who keeps on showing up, everywhere, ALL THE TIME. How do I know he’s her secret lover. Oh, believe me I KNOW. That’s a story for another day.

SO we were catching up on the situation with the work-study student who has so recently stoked my ire fire.

Me: …and it just makes me SO MAD. Mostly because of the lying, and the digging herself into a hole, and then MANUFACTURING FALSE EVIDENCE – which is so obviously false, it’s not even amusic. AND then the fact that she didn’t even take the time to cover her tracks appropriately. I know all the tricks. Come on, girl, don’t you think I’m smart?

Secret Lover: Oh, you’re smart. You are a smart one.

My mouth: Huh.

My brain: Hold on. Are you mocking me right now, Muttonchops McGee? You? With the secret you’re trying to hide? With the small talk and the forced witless banter that you think is funny but certainly isn’t? Don’t you know that I know?

Dana’s face: Oh no.

Secret Lover: I wouldn’t ever try to pull one over on you!

My brain: Bullshit. Ultra bullshit – because you’re DEFINITELY trying to keep up the facade of no way, I’m not totally trying to get with Dana and just because you’ve got Historically Accurate Facial Hair doesn’t mean you’ve got your shit together. Fool.

Dana’s face: Omg, Secret Lover, she totally knows. And you sound like a huge tool right now.

My mouth: (nonchalantly) Good. Because I would catch you.

My brain: The only reason I’m not calling you on this right now is because Dana doesn’t need any more stress in her life. But don’t try that crap again. I will never be in the mood to play your little games. Punk.

-mym

Letters of irritation.

August 5, 2008

Dear Professor,

You know, it would be a lot easier for me to help you if your presence in the office didn’t grate on my boss-lady so much.  You grate on my nerves, too – I don’t think you know any other way to be – but you are just so insufferably rude and difficult with my boss-lady that I adopt a defensive posture every time I hear your voice.

And then!  The other thing!  Every time I tell you something – University policy, procedure, fucking SPELLING – it’s like it goes in one of your ears and immediately out of the other.  You cannot listen!  And then you are  Wrong with a capital W!  Again!  Every time!  Will you never learn?

You frustrate me!  Working with you is sincerely maddening!

Sincerely maddened,

YVANKA

———————

Dear Student Employee,

I can tell when you’re lying, and when you try and cover your ass you don’t do a very impressive job.  You didn’t make any progress, as evidenced by the lack of progress, and I know more about tracking adjustments and changes to documents than you do.  By a lot.  So when you lie to me, then lie again, and then I sort-of call you on it but you try and cover your ass, and then you try to get out of proving it, and then when you DO submit ‘evidence’ but it’s got a fatal flaw – well, my darling, I can’t trust you.  I’m just not sure how to go about asking why, in fact, you lied.

And there it is.

Your boss,

Yvanka

THING ONE:

If you need to know the approximate yardage of something – a piece of fabric, for example, or a big-ass banner – you can do the following.

  1. Hold the edges of the thing that you need to measure in your hands – one end in the left, one in the right.
  2. Turn your head to the right.
  3. Extend your left arm.
  4. The length between your left hand and the tip of your nose (which, recall, is turned to the right) – that’s a yard.

How magical and domestic-goddess-like is that shit?

THING TWO:

Speaking of fabric – if, for some reason, you ever buy it, or whatever, and you need to know how much is left on a bolt – ’cause you’re a domestic goddess and you’re going to reupholster some chairs or make pillows or whatever – two wraps on the bolt is approximately one yard.

THING THREE:

I will never be a domestic goddess.

-mym