Thursday, September 30, 2004
What's Happenin'
D is safe and sound in Iraq and staying in one of Saddam's old palaces. I miss him.
My Brad has survived all four hurricanes and is very grumpy about living in Florida. I miss him.
My cousin and her three children have been in a horrible car accident. This makes me sick.
N. Good fixed my DVD player. Now I'm going to go buy Aladdin when it is re-released on Tuesday. Thanks, N.!
Lucy is in heat. Again. Maybe we'll have her fixed...or make her some cement boots...
N. Good and Kevin made themselves giggle saying crude things about Lucy being in heat. Boys are so gross.
I'm a little mad at my new best friend, TiVo. TiVo betrayed me by stopping recording right before Tyra announced who was no longer in the running to become America's Next Top Model.
I didn't get to go swimming last night because I was up late working. We have a deadline. Today is the deadline. I'm blogging, not working. Deadline, schmeadline.
I've applied for a new job. A really cool job! I'm not too hopeful.
For the last two days, my stomach has been doing this weird burning clenching thing that makes me double over in places like the parking lot or during an interview or wherever I may be at the time. Then it passes and I'm sweating but fine.
My affair with stupid Nora Roberts is almost over. I finally found the stupid last book to her stupid trilogy that I was stupid enough to listen to the first one on audio-book. Stupid Three Sisters Island Trilogy. Stupid. Really, really stupid.
I'm interviewing a nun today. Fun!
D is safe and sound in Iraq and staying in one of Saddam's old palaces. I miss him.
My Brad has survived all four hurricanes and is very grumpy about living in Florida. I miss him.
My cousin and her three children have been in a horrible car accident. This makes me sick.
N. Good fixed my DVD player. Now I'm going to go buy Aladdin when it is re-released on Tuesday. Thanks, N.!
Lucy is in heat. Again. Maybe we'll have her fixed...or make her some cement boots...
N. Good and Kevin made themselves giggle saying crude things about Lucy being in heat. Boys are so gross.
I'm a little mad at my new best friend, TiVo. TiVo betrayed me by stopping recording right before Tyra announced who was no longer in the running to become America's Next Top Model.
I didn't get to go swimming last night because I was up late working. We have a deadline. Today is the deadline. I'm blogging, not working. Deadline, schmeadline.
I've applied for a new job. A really cool job! I'm not too hopeful.
For the last two days, my stomach has been doing this weird burning clenching thing that makes me double over in places like the parking lot or during an interview or wherever I may be at the time. Then it passes and I'm sweating but fine.
My affair with stupid Nora Roberts is almost over. I finally found the stupid last book to her stupid trilogy that I was stupid enough to listen to the first one on audio-book. Stupid Three Sisters Island Trilogy. Stupid. Really, really stupid.
I'm interviewing a nun today. Fun!
Monday, September 27, 2004
While searching through my many unlabeled disks for my most current resume, I stumbled across some old college papers. I think I'm going to share one with you. It may shock you. Mom, you may want to stop reading. It is quite violent. I got an A++ and the instructor printed off copies for the entire class. I was very proud. And now, without further ado, may I present to you my creative interpretation of Clockwork Orange:
Sara Schott
English 4700
Susan Steinberg
29 October 2001
The next morning I woke up at oh eight oh oh hours, oh my brothers, and as it was Thursday morning, and I had had a real bitchin-oh evening the previous, and my suit was all covered and sticky with reminders of my accomplishments, I thought I would not go to the Institution today. Perhaps after a smitel longer in the sheets I will join you, oh my brothers, in our learning experience that our poopskas are so unsuspicious in paying their hard-earned, hard-worked for chinka, thinking their little babooshkas are going to oh Reading, Writing, ‘Rithmatic to make the fortunes, meet the respectable girl, and carry on the family name, brothers oh brothers, if only the poopskas knew.
Rolling over with a real bitchin-oh stretch, the kind you have first thing on waking, when it feels as if two forces of Mal are pulling your muscles, bones and thoughts in opposite directions, oh my brothers, this is the sort of stretch I had, and rolling over I saw her. So the little jeanie had the nerve to down in my sheets all night. Upon second look, she wasn’t such a kinky-like little jeanie as she had seemed the previous, in my altered state, due to the amount of jonka I had consumed. She was down with her stinking hatch open, and her large rather odd-shaped zingers falling out of the blankie. The stink coming out of her was something, oh my brothers, awful, something of her sick from the previous mixed with the stink of the jonkas I had bought for her (not the mention the ones she already had down her hatch) and the offensive stink of all hatches in the morn. The black glook she had caked on her hoppers was smeared on her mask and it was still crusted in white where I had marked her with my juice, the screaming little jeanie, when she had done it for me the previous, oh she was a fright on this morn.
The little bitch had some nerve in her, staying after your humble narrator told her to leave. Just then she woke and schlepped up at me, the corners of her hatch turning up, her schlep was yellow from the smoke. I was infuriated by her happy schlep, I had told her to leave, she was supposed to be gone, I gave her a bitchin-oh shot to the hatch that cured her yellowed schlep and quieted my rage. “Bitch, I told you to leave,” I grumbled as I threw her over my shoulder to dispose of her out the door. Then I was struck with a thought, and it seemed silly to waste of a perfectly good jeanie on this sunny morn. Seeing as I had just woke up, I was as ready as could be, as are most pledges of my age first thing in the morn, oh my brothers. So this pledge had that jeanie, and you know how the act goes, my brothers, I will spare you the pain I inflicted and the joy I discovered at her raspy cries, and I let my glory go inside her this time to give her something to remember me by, and after sharing this not so willing jeanie with my brothers next door, we heaved her down the stairs, with her under-skevvs soiled and her huge bare zingers flopping. I looked at my schlepping brother, Rog, he was called, short for Roger, and I schlepped back as I said, “I told the bitch to leave.”
So Yours Truly, feeling relieved of himself and ready to drag it to the Institution but feeling sticky yet, decided to, already having missed the first of Biologiaology, go ahead and miss it altogether in order to clean it up. And after basking in the steaming rush for oh ten minutes, having soaped my suit and scrubbed my mask, I stood in front of the looker examining my mask. Hoppers not as puffy as they could have been after an evening such as the previous, scrub razored off, bitchin-oh respectable looking with the proper schlep on my hatch. Feeling rather stylo in my new skevvs from the-over-priced-and-ever-so-ordinary-but-I-have-to-shop-there-to-be-“in”-(fill in the blank)-store-of-your-choice, oh my brothers, I was ready to play the eager student until such time when the sun went down, and the pretty and good little jeanies and pledges stayed inside preparing for law and medics and what-not, knowing full well that my brothers and I would be congregating in the quadrangle of the Institution, books in hand (to show the pigs out on night patrol), from where we walk the streets to the bars.
Sometimes there is a jeanie too thick to ask some of her strong pledges to walk her home from the library, some little jeanie with white cotton under-skevvs, and oh my brothers, if we happen upon such a treat we skip the bars and the jonko altogether, making an entire night of our find…
Sara Schott
English 4700
Susan Steinberg
29 October 2001
The next morning I woke up at oh eight oh oh hours, oh my brothers, and as it was Thursday morning, and I had had a real bitchin-oh evening the previous, and my suit was all covered and sticky with reminders of my accomplishments, I thought I would not go to the Institution today. Perhaps after a smitel longer in the sheets I will join you, oh my brothers, in our learning experience that our poopskas are so unsuspicious in paying their hard-earned, hard-worked for chinka, thinking their little babooshkas are going to oh Reading, Writing, ‘Rithmatic to make the fortunes, meet the respectable girl, and carry on the family name, brothers oh brothers, if only the poopskas knew.
Rolling over with a real bitchin-oh stretch, the kind you have first thing on waking, when it feels as if two forces of Mal are pulling your muscles, bones and thoughts in opposite directions, oh my brothers, this is the sort of stretch I had, and rolling over I saw her. So the little jeanie had the nerve to down in my sheets all night. Upon second look, she wasn’t such a kinky-like little jeanie as she had seemed the previous, in my altered state, due to the amount of jonka I had consumed. She was down with her stinking hatch open, and her large rather odd-shaped zingers falling out of the blankie. The stink coming out of her was something, oh my brothers, awful, something of her sick from the previous mixed with the stink of the jonkas I had bought for her (not the mention the ones she already had down her hatch) and the offensive stink of all hatches in the morn. The black glook she had caked on her hoppers was smeared on her mask and it was still crusted in white where I had marked her with my juice, the screaming little jeanie, when she had done it for me the previous, oh she was a fright on this morn.
The little bitch had some nerve in her, staying after your humble narrator told her to leave. Just then she woke and schlepped up at me, the corners of her hatch turning up, her schlep was yellow from the smoke. I was infuriated by her happy schlep, I had told her to leave, she was supposed to be gone, I gave her a bitchin-oh shot to the hatch that cured her yellowed schlep and quieted my rage. “Bitch, I told you to leave,” I grumbled as I threw her over my shoulder to dispose of her out the door. Then I was struck with a thought, and it seemed silly to waste of a perfectly good jeanie on this sunny morn. Seeing as I had just woke up, I was as ready as could be, as are most pledges of my age first thing in the morn, oh my brothers. So this pledge had that jeanie, and you know how the act goes, my brothers, I will spare you the pain I inflicted and the joy I discovered at her raspy cries, and I let my glory go inside her this time to give her something to remember me by, and after sharing this not so willing jeanie with my brothers next door, we heaved her down the stairs, with her under-skevvs soiled and her huge bare zingers flopping. I looked at my schlepping brother, Rog, he was called, short for Roger, and I schlepped back as I said, “I told the bitch to leave.”
So Yours Truly, feeling relieved of himself and ready to drag it to the Institution but feeling sticky yet, decided to, already having missed the first of Biologiaology, go ahead and miss it altogether in order to clean it up. And after basking in the steaming rush for oh ten minutes, having soaped my suit and scrubbed my mask, I stood in front of the looker examining my mask. Hoppers not as puffy as they could have been after an evening such as the previous, scrub razored off, bitchin-oh respectable looking with the proper schlep on my hatch. Feeling rather stylo in my new skevvs from the-over-priced-and-ever-so-ordinary-but-I-have-to-shop-there-to-be-“in”-(fill in the blank)-store-of-your-choice, oh my brothers, I was ready to play the eager student until such time when the sun went down, and the pretty and good little jeanies and pledges stayed inside preparing for law and medics and what-not, knowing full well that my brothers and I would be congregating in the quadrangle of the Institution, books in hand (to show the pigs out on night patrol), from where we walk the streets to the bars.
Sometimes there is a jeanie too thick to ask some of her strong pledges to walk her home from the library, some little jeanie with white cotton under-skevvs, and oh my brothers, if we happen upon such a treat we skip the bars and the jonko altogether, making an entire night of our find…
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Last night Kevin I and took Top for a walk on the walking trails that are just a hop, skip, and a jump from our house. Considering that was one of the things we loved about the location of this house, we rarely take walks there. It was just such a lovely evening that we decided to take an after-dinner stroll. Almost immediately, an unleashed dog came bounding up to us. We sort of looked around for the owner, but none was to be found. The strange dog and Top sniffed each others bottoms and then gave each other a couple of friendly kisses. From that point on, the strange dog followed us everywhere. It was sort of cute how Top and the dog walked so amiably together. However, other people walking their dogs were glaring at us, for our unleashed dog was pestering their leashed dogs. We would shake Top's leash at them and say, "Our dog is leashed! That's not our dog! She's following us! She's not ours!!"
This reminded me of the last few days my Brad and I spent in Greece. There was a huge stray dog that latched on to us every time we left the hotel. We had taken to walking to a nearby beach to watch the sun set after dinner. The big smelly dog would follow us and sit with us. We tried to shoo him to no avail. The problem with this was that he wasn't all that friendly. The little Greek children would come try to pet him and he would growl and snap. The children would scream and their parents would yell at us angrily in Greek. We didn't speak the language and could neither tell the children not to pet him or explain that he wasn't our dog. We giggled about it a lot, because Brad and I giggle about everything, but we were terrified that we were going to be thrown in a Greek jail when this dog that was not ours would maim a Greek child.
This reminded me of the last few days my Brad and I spent in Greece. There was a huge stray dog that latched on to us every time we left the hotel. We had taken to walking to a nearby beach to watch the sun set after dinner. The big smelly dog would follow us and sit with us. We tried to shoo him to no avail. The problem with this was that he wasn't all that friendly. The little Greek children would come try to pet him and he would growl and snap. The children would scream and their parents would yell at us angrily in Greek. We didn't speak the language and could neither tell the children not to pet him or explain that he wasn't our dog. We giggled about it a lot, because Brad and I giggle about everything, but we were terrified that we were going to be thrown in a Greek jail when this dog that was not ours would maim a Greek child.
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Over the weekend, Kevin and I attended the second birthday party of our niece, Annabelle. Annie just happens to be the most beautiful and sweet little girl on this planet. Usually, we are all hard pressed to get her out of Kevin's arms, but on Saturday she only had eyes for me. It was a wonderful feeling.
Equally wonderful is the adoration that we receive from our nephew, Elliott. He wanted to spend the night at Mom's house because that is where Kevin and I were staying. Actually, he wanted to sleep in our room, but that would have been a little crowded. Elliott is four, smart, insightful, sweet, loving, and inquisitive.
Kevin and I are determined to be a good aunt and uncle. We both have memories of aunts and uncles who, at some point in our childhood, did something to upset us. We have talked about how these memories really stuck with us. My Uncle Bingo has never said or done anything to hurt my feelings or upset me in any way. This is how we want to be with Annie and Elliott. We want to make them happy.
At Annie's birthday party, I met KineticMe. I feel like I have known him for ages, but now I have a face to put with a blog. Nice guy, that one.
Equally wonderful is the adoration that we receive from our nephew, Elliott. He wanted to spend the night at Mom's house because that is where Kevin and I were staying. Actually, he wanted to sleep in our room, but that would have been a little crowded. Elliott is four, smart, insightful, sweet, loving, and inquisitive.
Kevin and I are determined to be a good aunt and uncle. We both have memories of aunts and uncles who, at some point in our childhood, did something to upset us. We have talked about how these memories really stuck with us. My Uncle Bingo has never said or done anything to hurt my feelings or upset me in any way. This is how we want to be with Annie and Elliott. We want to make them happy.
At Annie's birthday party, I met KineticMe. I feel like I have known him for ages, but now I have a face to put with a blog. Nice guy, that one.
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Serves me Right
Well, it serves me right. That's what my Grandma would say. I intentionally and deliberately broke the dress code by wearing my strappy heels. I don't know how I did it, but somehow I did something and now there is a big gouge in the black leather of the heel. My once lovely and chic shoes are now down right frumpy. This is a sad day, indeed. Must go shopping. Must buy new shoes. Boots. Tall. Stiletto heel. Yes, boots. Goodbye, Summer. Hello, Fall!! It serves me right. Very right, indeed!
Well, it serves me right. That's what my Grandma would say. I intentionally and deliberately broke the dress code by wearing my strappy heels. I don't know how I did it, but somehow I did something and now there is a big gouge in the black leather of the heel. My once lovely and chic shoes are now down right frumpy. This is a sad day, indeed. Must go shopping. Must buy new shoes. Boots. Tall. Stiletto heel. Yes, boots. Goodbye, Summer. Hello, Fall!! It serves me right. Very right, indeed!
The dress code dictates:
No open toe shoes.
What I'm wearing:
Black and pink strappy heels with a small black bow on them. Cute, huh?
The dress code dictates:
No bare legs.
What I'm NOT wearing:
Pantyhose. Hello?! Open toe shoes, people!
The dress code dictates:
No dangly earrings or multiple piercings.
What I'm wearing:
Diamond studs in the top hole, dangly earrings in the bottom hole. (In my EARS!)
Rules are made to be broken.
No open toe shoes.
What I'm wearing:
Black and pink strappy heels with a small black bow on them. Cute, huh?
The dress code dictates:
No bare legs.
What I'm NOT wearing:
Pantyhose. Hello?! Open toe shoes, people!
The dress code dictates:
No dangly earrings or multiple piercings.
What I'm wearing:
Diamond studs in the top hole, dangly earrings in the bottom hole. (In my EARS!)
Rules are made to be broken.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
So the initial plan to swim every day was a tad over zealous, resulting in great shoulder pain and lost feelings of self worth. New plan: swim (and swim hard) and Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Yeah, well, last night was Monday and we didn't go work out. I wanted to. I really did. Kevin forgot that he had to help his dad with something and that was smack dab in the middle of the evening. The problem with swimming being your exercise staple is that it really takes a long time. I mean, you have to drive to the gym, put all your junk in a locker, put on swim cap, goggles, etc..., shower off, swim for an hour, shower, change, and drive home. That's no half hour workout! It takes our entire evening, really. So we skipped. But we're going tonight. REALLY! And tomorrow. And Friday. Promise.
Friday, September 10, 2004
A conversation a few days back with my friend/coworker:
Jeff: Are you a Democrat or Republican?
Me: (sarcastically) Now what do you think?
Jeff: Democrat.
Me: Umm...YEAH!
(pause)
Me: Why? What are you?
Jeff: Neither. I don't know. Whatever seems best at the time, I guess.
Me: I used to think that, you know? I didn't follow politics. I didn't know what was what. I just knew that I wanted everyone to experience the same freedoms and have the same rights. I thought that made me American. Turns out, that makes me a Liberal. Who knew?
Jeff: Are you a Democrat or Republican?
Me: (sarcastically) Now what do you think?
Jeff: Democrat.
Me: Umm...YEAH!
(pause)
Me: Why? What are you?
Jeff: Neither. I don't know. Whatever seems best at the time, I guess.
Me: I used to think that, you know? I didn't follow politics. I didn't know what was what. I just knew that I wanted everyone to experience the same freedoms and have the same rights. I thought that made me American. Turns out, that makes me a Liberal. Who knew?
Wednesday, September 08, 2004
I know that it was over a week ago when I wrote right here on this very site, "Tomorrow we are joining the gym." That was a lie. But we did join last night. Hey, better late than never. Right? So we donned our speedos and filled our gym bags with swimming goodies like goggles, pull buoys, kickboards, swim caps, towels, and jointritis (that's for me). After arriving, we have to stand and get our picture taken. You know, for our membership cards. I wasn't prepared for a photo session!
We go into our respective locker rooms mumbling something about meeting in the pool area. I am waiting at the end of a lane putting on my ugly green swim cap (because I forgot to go get a new one, this is my backup swim cap) when I see Kevin approaching, looking apprehensive in his new speedo jammers. We sit there for a couple of minutes with our legs dangling in the water. We decide to start from the other end. The lifeguard makes us go rinse off before we get in the water. How stupid is that? He looked pretty dry and dirty to me. Is he going to go rinse off before he jumps in to save someone? Huh!
So we rinsed off and reclaimed our lane. And then, well, we swam!! Oh, the loveliness of it! We put in just over a mile. A very fine workout if I do say so myself.
I couldn't help but feel perfectly content as I drifted off to sleep last night with one shoulder swathed in ice and my nose buried in the crook of my other arm that was thrown over my head. I think the last words I uttered as I fell asleep grinning were, "Mmmm, smells like chlorine..."
We go into our respective locker rooms mumbling something about meeting in the pool area. I am waiting at the end of a lane putting on my ugly green swim cap (because I forgot to go get a new one, this is my backup swim cap) when I see Kevin approaching, looking apprehensive in his new speedo jammers. We sit there for a couple of minutes with our legs dangling in the water. We decide to start from the other end. The lifeguard makes us go rinse off before we get in the water. How stupid is that? He looked pretty dry and dirty to me. Is he going to go rinse off before he jumps in to save someone? Huh!
So we rinsed off and reclaimed our lane. And then, well, we swam!! Oh, the loveliness of it! We put in just over a mile. A very fine workout if I do say so myself.
I couldn't help but feel perfectly content as I drifted off to sleep last night with one shoulder swathed in ice and my nose buried in the crook of my other arm that was thrown over my head. I think the last words I uttered as I fell asleep grinning were, "Mmmm, smells like chlorine..."
Monday, September 06, 2004
Kevin's parents are what we call Consumers. They buy. And buy. And buy. Silly things. Things they don't need. Example: Kevin's mom just bought a brand spanking new Ford Explorer Eddie Bauer Edition with all the bells and whistles. It seats seven. Seven! There are rarely more than two people in her car. Why does she need a car that big? The Ford Explorer that she had been driving had, what, 50 thousand miles? Anyway...
They are consumers. They buy. And buy. And buy. They just bought new furniture for the family room. Now they are buying new furniture. Again. Already. This weekend they took Kevin, me, and Kevin's brother (Tim) and sister (Colleen) to Nebraska Furniture Mart, which is the Walmart of furniture stores and Kevin and I refuse to shop there, and they wanted our approval of the new furniture they had picked out. Well, it was ugly. Kevin, being the decorating diva that he is (shut up, this one is NOT gay. How many times can that happen to one girl?), told them no, they couldn't buy that, it would look horrible, they had to think before they bought, blah blah blah. After hearing his arguments, Kevin's mom said that she thought he might be right. Kevin's dad, however, stomped off grumbling about how Kevin was not right and that none of us knew what we were talking about. He gets a little grumpy when contradicted.
The next day, we did pretty much the same thing. Fun holiday weekend, huh?
They are consumers. They buy. And buy. And buy. They just bought new furniture for the family room. Now they are buying new furniture. Again. Already. This weekend they took Kevin, me, and Kevin's brother (Tim) and sister (Colleen) to Nebraska Furniture Mart, which is the Walmart of furniture stores and Kevin and I refuse to shop there, and they wanted our approval of the new furniture they had picked out. Well, it was ugly. Kevin, being the decorating diva that he is (shut up, this one is NOT gay. How many times can that happen to one girl?), told them no, they couldn't buy that, it would look horrible, they had to think before they bought, blah blah blah. After hearing his arguments, Kevin's mom said that she thought he might be right. Kevin's dad, however, stomped off grumbling about how Kevin was not right and that none of us knew what we were talking about. He gets a little grumpy when contradicted.
The next day, we did pretty much the same thing. Fun holiday weekend, huh?
