And now for a post mostly in pictures!

My tree is anorexic.

OK….maybe not. This is me (still deformed, however):

THE END! kthx, bye.

Love,

I never check e-mail using a browser– everything is downloaded by Thunderbird and I can ignore all the spam mail that comes to me. Today I was at work and waiting for an email so I had to actually log into gmail. I had over 20,000 spam messages in my bulk messages folder. For the record: I do not have a penis, I don’t want to meet my soul mate, and I don’t want EMT qualification online. I already have a job, and I don’t want free stuff. Well, I lied. I do want free stuff. But I don’t want to have to find a billion people to refer in order to get it. Stop spamming me people; it’s not nice.

In completely unrelated news, despite my poorness, I’ve ordered a copy of each of the postsecret books, and I plan on spreading some post secret happiness during Christmas. Be forewarned if you’re on my Christmas list.

I have this theory on weight fluctuations around the year, which is really common sense. In the summer, everyone is trying to wear bikinis and skimpier clothing therefore they are skinnier. In the winter, everyone bulks up a little bit in order to keep warm and also as a result of the two most gluttonous holidays: Thanksgiving and Christmas. Today I noticed a little bit of a jiggle on my stomach as I was getting dressed, and I remembered that I hadn’t gone running in a while. Memo to self: take preventive measures against excess holiday blubber.

Yesterday, I was sorting through some business cards for the company, and I noticed a strange pattern. Women who work in business (and some doctors, I suppose) have more hyphenated names than women in other industries. I wonder why this is. Also, what are the rules on name-hyphenation, if any? Does your spouse take the same name as you? Do your kids? What if your kids marry another hyphenated last name? Does that make double the hyphenation? So, if your Smith-Harris kid marries a Jones-Davis are their children Davis-Smith-Jones-Harris? How silly.

I started writing this semi-pedantic rant on the brevity of life. I was so close to hitting publish, but instead I re-read it and decided that it wasn’t worth reading just yet. Let’s talk of lighter, happier things instead.

First off, my dad finally came through with a car for me this weekend. Just because “daddy bought me a car” doesn’t mean I’m spoiled. I worked for it too. Hurrah for my little white corolla.

Secondly, this semester of school is over for the most part. I only have two finals, both of which are not comprehensive. Yay for me. I still haven’t settled on my schedule for next semester, nor have I even looked at what classes I still need to take to graduate. That’s been on my to-do list for the past week.

I had to take a trip to the emergency room last week, my first ever. I had some GI bleeding and called my mom asking what I should do. I was expecting “Drink more water” not “Go to the emergency room.” That was an unexpected interruption. I wasn’t expecting there to be wrong with me, but the doctors there said I should follow up with a gastrointestinal specialist. I already know what’s going to happen now: they’re going to stick a camera inside me and tell me to a) drink more fluids and b) eat better. I’ll nod and say that I’ll do that, but after a few months I’ll forget and go back to my old routine drinking coffee and eating bad foods.

I’ll say this though, the worst part about going to the hospital is that you’re forced to remember your medical history. I don’t know about you, but usually I try to forget everything that could possibly be wrong with me. Going to the hospital for prodding (especially butt-hole prodding) is not a pleasant experience.

I leave you again, as always, with my favorite postsecret postcard of the week:

I’ve been meaning to write a little ode to my new tattoo, but since I’ve been putting it off, there have been some new developments. Initially, I was never going to show anyone my tattoo. But my artist was right: It’s your first tattoo and you want to show everyone. That “everyone” somehow included my grandma and Aunt. Last Saturday, I was bending over to pick up a jug of water. I was wearing really low jeans along with really low underwear (not the best combination for hiding a tattoo above your bum) and my mom caught a glimpse of ink. She kept harassing me, even offering me $50 to let everyone have a look at it. I ended up showing them, but they didn’t get the cultural reference until later. I never got the $50, but Mom did pay for my hot, new, red dress. No, you’ll never see pictures of it. I take that back. You can try and bribe me for pictures of it; however, I make no promises.

Let me start at the beginning of my tale. I’d been itching to get a tattoo for a while now, and I’ve taken some trips to tattoo parlors along Westheimer to look at some designs. After a whilem I settled on something with a classic video game reference. Everyone…presenting my tattoo:

Anyways, I’m really happy with it. My artist was awesome and it turned out perfectly symmetrical unlike the picture that I brought in. And yes, that is my butt. Or a little north of my butt. To answer all the generic questions: Yes, it does hurt, but I don’t think it was that bad. Yes, it is kind of addictive. I was already planning to get the matching invincible star on my shoulder before this one had even completely stopped bleeding. But I already promised to have only one. I don’t know how long I am going to be able to keep my own promise though.

The past few days have been crazy. I mean crazy because I’ve been running around non-stop. There has been about… zero times when I didn’t have anything to do at all. Professors have this silly habit of having a ton of things due before the Thanksgiving holidays which drove me crazy this semester. Having two papers and two exams the two days before Thanksgiving is no fun. I didn’t sleep at all last Sunday while I was rushing to finish a ten-page research paper. I almost panicked when I realized that my book sources would not be acceptable.

Birthday was a blast. My Baylor ladies and boyfriend made it awesome. And there was so much food that I was still eating leftovers two days later. But it was probably the best chinese food in the city. And the Italian was very yummy too. Also, I got a thingy. The thingy, which I can’t name, deserves its own post and will be getting one after I finish this tiny essay here.

Hrm, what else…Boyfriend and I got a wii! I think that wii sports is actually working out my right arm because it is sore as hell right now. I’m going to have to start learning how to play left-handed to even out the buffness in the right arm. Wii sports is hella fun. And Zelda is pretty cool though I’ve only played two hours of it.

Thanksgiving was good. My family is not into a huge Thanksgiving thing, but we believe in good food and good fun. So I spent half the day eating and sleeping and the other half was spent at my favorite salon getting a manicure and pedicure with my mom, aunt, and grandma.

Crap, I had a shitload of things to mention about two days ago. Now when I actually started writing this, the thoughts have managed to float out of my brain. I had a million things to link to, but I will narrow it down to the following: pon and zi and also, this week’s postsecret picks:

Lastly, if you know me, you know I am not a fan of people embeding videos directly onto their websites/blogs/whatever, but I also believe in making exceptions:

Well, my birthday is coming up soon and it’s supposed to be a really good one. My girls from the Baylor gang are coming down to celebrate at the lovely P.F. Chang’s. Then my old roommate and I are getting inked up at the famous Texas Tattoo Emporium where I am getting the nerdiest tattoo just in time for the release of Nintendo Wii the next night (at midnight).

Also, hopefully by then my dad will have made up his mind on what car to buy and I’ll be getting that Saturday as well.

The only bad part is that I have a ten page research paper that I haven’t exactly started yet. And it’s due Monday. Amidst all my celebration, I have to make some time for that. So that means I’ll have to cram it in tonight. That sucks.

Warning: Do not misread the title and think that this post is about “moving cars.” Thank you, read on.

So my parents have finally deemed me worthy and responsible enough to get my very own, shiny new car. First, there was talk of buying a used entry-level BMW or Mercedes because my dad believes their transmissions were divinely created to last 200k miles or more. I was completely fine with the notion of driving a used car, any used car. When Saturday came along I was ready to spend most of the day at used car lots. Instead the first place my dad takes me to is a Honda dealership. Okay, I thought, Maybe he wants to buy a certified used Honda. But no! To my shock and amazement, he was looking at brand new civics. Oooh. Ahh. We also visited the Nissan dealership across the street and I got to play in one of the 2007 Altimas which have a neat push-button ignition feature. I actually like turning the key in the ignition, but hey– it’s still pretty cool. No car has been bought yet and there is no final word from the parental units on what my role will be monetarily, but they already know how much I’m willing to pay with my current meager salary. I think that all I will have to pay is insurance. Sweet. Hopefully this will all be wrapped up this week. Then I can spend the rest of the ten dollars in my bank account on gas! (Memo to self: Balance checking account; make sure ten dollars still there.)

Also, I helped the boyfriend move in this weekend. I will not lie– the moving part was not fun in the least. We kept having to make trips back and forth from the old and new apartments and it was a huge mess. Their new apartment is nice and the location is really great so I’m glad they finally moved. Before we left we set up a small memorial consisting of an old ironing board, a record player, candles, and an Astros bobblehead doll over someone’s portable barbecue grill. I thought it was a fitting goodbye to that dump.

Every morning when I come into work (and I only come in on Tuesday and Thursday mornings) there is a line of Hispanic-looking people outside. And for the longest time I could not figure out why they were all lined up behind the building that way. Well, just yesterday two of the people in line got in the Elevator with me and I discovered where they were all going: Apparently, the Honduras Consulate office is located in my building, three floors down from where I work. Imagine that. I would have imagined that the consulate office would have chairs so people would not have to wait outside in the cold to be seen.
Also, tomorrow I get to go car shopping/browsing with Mommy and Daddy. Oh what fun. For some reason, when I asked Dad if I could get a little gas-efficient Prius he said that he wanted to get a BMW or a Mercedes. I think I’m going to hold my complaints to myself on this one.

And I’ve successfully made it through the week, only with mild stress. Yesterday my roommate had her friend over again. I was trying to sleep, but she kept using this drier on her hair. This went on until almost three in the morning and I had to get up at 6 am for something. Like I said, I did not pay to live with two other roommates half of the time. I also did not pay to live in a beauty salon. I had enough courtesy to go to the bathroom to dry my hair; she can do the same.