I’m 24

As of 1:09 a.m. I am officially 24 years old.

This…this is one of my big numbers.

HAPPY NEW YEAR’S EVERYONE!!!  Drink one for me ;)

I don’t know how the rest of you do it.

My birthday is tomorrow.  I’m sure that most of you know this.  Either because we’re friends on Facebook and you are being gently reminded or because you stop over here often enough to see me shamelessly plugging my birthday every chance I get.  (Seriously…it’s tomorrow…I turn 24).

Being a New Year’s Eve baby has always had it’s ups and downs.

On the one hand, there’s always a party.  On the other hand, sometimes kids can’t come (Y2K was a totally craptastic birthday).

On the one hand, I could stretch gift-getting into a 2 week extravaganza.  On the other hand, people persistently tried to get away with that combination gift bullshit. (I mean thanks for the presents you guys!  I loved them!)

On the one hand, I could write combination Thank You cards to people and get that whole process over with at once–way to save on stamps!  On the other hand, I got all of my presents in December and then in July when I wanted say, a new Barbie or a pair of really fabulous red peep-toe heels, I was screwed and had to wait another 5 months (which, in all fairness, worked out well with the high heels–they were TOTALLY on sale by the time I did get them as a gift).

But the biggest postitive to my birthday is this: I always know how old I am.

Okay, wait, let me stop right here–you’re all going to think I’m like, slightly retarded but let me explain myself first.

My birthday follows the calendar year.  So I know, for example, that for the entirety of 2008 (with the exception of 1 day) I was 23.  When people tell stories and say things like, “Oh, the blizzard of ’93–how old were we that year?” I can say, easily and without thinking, that I was 8.  I would have turned 9 at the end of that year, but when the blizzard happened, I was 8.  There was no–well was the blizzard in February or March?  Early or late in the month?  This is important people!  I might have been a different age!–to deal with.

This is a handy feature.  My birthday just follows the calendar year.  So, when the new year starts for everyone else, it starts for me too.  This is always how it was and it just made things easier.  I can’t imagine having, for example, a July birthday.  You’re going along, minding your own business, and then boom–you’re older.  Another year of your life has passed.  But wait–another year of, like, the world, hasn’t passed.  You’re still trucking along through 1997 or whatever year it is.

So call me weird.  Call me stoopid.  Tell me that I’m basically a renob and all normal people can keep track of both their birthday and the calendar year without confusion.

I maintain that I’ve got it easy.  And I don’t know how the rest of you do it.

And now for a bit of business…

Okay.  So I abandoned you.  It was unintentional, I promise.  But you have to understand.  My computer is in the basement.  It’s cold down there.  The food and the warm comfy chairs are upstairs.  It’s understandable that I didn’t make down much to–

No, no, you’re right.  No excuses.  I shouldn’t have left you like that.  You didn’t hear from me, I didn’t even bother to say I wouldn’t be back for awhile.  I just threw some guest bloggers at you (who both did a fab job–thanks SO much Heather and Erica!) and left.

But I’m back now, and I’ll catch you all up on everything and then we’ll get back to what’s really important here: finding the amusing in the totally mundane.

First, a bit of business.

THON updates.  I know, I owe you one for this week.  But since I dropped the ball on the blog and since it IS the holidays, here’s what’s going to happen.  Wednesday I’ll post the total for the last few weeks–whatever it was, I’m doubling it.  So remember–KEEP COMMENTING!!! Every comment is 5 cents towards pediatric cancer research!

Posts.  I have the requisite Christmas recaps for you, including adventures in air travel (just in case you haven’t had enough yet).

And in real life news…sort of.  I found out this morning that I’m being promoted to a different division.  This is a good thing, even though I’m really sad to leave my team behind.  But since this new spot likely means a lot more work, my blog may lag a bit while I transition.  If that happens, please be patient–you know I love you all and would never abandon you.

Yes…OKAY…I did JUST get done apologizing for abandoning you.  Yes, yes, you make an excellent point.   Well then, how’s this:

…If that happens, please be patient–you know I love you all and would never abandon you AGAIN.

Better?

Phew.

Mele Kelikimaka

Aloha, friends! I’m Erica, also known as one of (the eldest of!) the Five Blondes.  Last week Stealthnerd twittered that she was looking for some bloggers to guest post on her blog while she was away.  Do you have preferred topics? I asked.  Will the posts be vetted for quality control? I queried.  When she answered “no” to both, I had to jump on the chance.  Where else can I write whatever I want, as badly as I want?  OK, I’m just kidding about the quality control and bad writing part.  I’m  sure she’ll give this a glance before hitting publish.  But she did say I could write whatever I want, and today being only 3 days before Christmas, the topic was pretty much pre-set: Christmas.

I love hearing about Christmas traditions.  I love hearing about families who go caroling around your neighborhood on Christmas eve, or who decorate the tree on Christmas eve.  I am in awe of people who volunteer at homeless shelters during the holiday season, sharing with those who need it most.  There are just so many special ways to celebrate with your friends and family.

Like vacationing in Maui.

Every year, my cousins fly to Maui with my aunt and uncle to spend Christmas on the beach.  They escape the cold Albertan weather to lie on the beach, surf, golf, and take helicopter rides to pass the time. Presents like KitchenAid stand mixers (for my cousin’s girlfriend – not even a family member!) and designer clothes and bags are exchanged before they leave for two glorious weeks of sun and fun!  No, I’m not jealous.  It’s not something I would enjoy.  Rather, I’m utterly confused.

I just don’t get it.  As a ‘good Canadian girl’, I just cannot fathom a Christmas where the world (my world, at least) is not covered in snow and ice.  Where the only time I hear “Mele Kelikimaka” is while watching National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.  Where I can walk outside without a coat on and not fear frostbite.  Peppermint and cider just doesn’t taste the same when it’s plus 20 degrees (Celcius – about 68 degrees Farenheit)!

Obviously, to me, Christmas = snow.  I suppose that this is partially because of where I live, and partially because of the culture of Christmas that tells us that Christmas should be a winter wonderland that we travel through on horse-drawn sleighs.  It’s awfully strange, considering that Christmas really started much closer to the equator than I am now.

Maybe my cousins have the right idea after all….

It’s not EveryyDayy that we have guests….

Good morning everyone!! I’m Heather from over at EveryyDayy. Some of you may know me, but most of you don’t! So HEY!! How’s it going? TGIF-Right!? Any way I have the honor of guest posting here at Stealthnerd’s place for the day. So the pressure is on. Its hard enough to come up with witty blog posts for my own blog, let alone on someone else’s blog who you happen to idolize.

I’m Heather (you know just in case you forgot already).  I’m 21 and really boring. I live in a really lame college town–Greenville, North Carolina home of the East Carolina Pirates. I am a student at this wonderful institution, studying Interior Design. I live in a pretty nice size apartment with 3 kittens, 2 turtles, and a boyfriend. I drive a silver car….

This year is almost over. In fact we have, 13 days until this year is over. 13 days! Not even 2 full weeks. I still have so many things that I was supposed to accomplish this year. I was sitting at my window ( I work the drive thru at a bank) pondering this today because nobody has any money, so of course nobody goes to the bank. I was thinking about everything that I had planned on doing this year. All the things that just disappeared into procrastination. Then I realized that there where so many things that I had accomplished.

In January I started working as a nanny. Me, Heather a nanny! Of 2 boys for a widow. It was an interesting experience. In April I finally made the decision to move into my own apartment. July was a busy month. I turned 21 and got a big girl job (if you can call working at the bank a big girl job). In August I went and saw John Mayer live (for the 2nd time). November rolled around and I got to vote for the very first time in my life, it was such a liberating feeling. I voted. My vote helped to decide who will be running MY country for the next 4-8 years. It was an awesome feeling! December rolled around and I built up the nerve to drive to Northern Virginia to see my dad for the first time in over a year.

I didn’t lose weight, get in shape, write a book, paint a picture, or any of the other items on my list of things to do, but all in all I accomplished quite a bit. I’ve doubled my responsibility, and really grown up a lot this year. I cannot wait to sit back and reflect on the things I will accomplish in this coming year.

I’ve decided to take the 101 in 1000 challenge starting January 1, 2009.

For those of you who want to follow my accomplishments I will post the list on December 31, 2008 and will constantly update on the items I am able to cross out.

For now, I want to thank all of you for being such a great audience, and Lauren for allowing me to steal her attention for the day! I want to wish you a Merry Christmas (Happy Holidays for those who don’t celebrate Christmas) And a Happy New Year!

Hopefully I’ll see (not really-but maybe get to share with you all) next year.

I always feel weird saying “see you next year”

It’s the third week in December.  It’s the time of year where people start to say “I’ll see you next year!” and then laugh and laugh because it’s so HILARIOUS that 2 weeks from now it will be 2009 and therefore “next year.”

I hate that.

I always feel so weird and bizarre when I say “see you next year” knowing that I’ll see the person the following Monday or Thursday or whenever.  But I always say it.

It’s like a compulsion.  Even though you know, logically, that it will be a matter of days before you see someone, rather than say, “I’ll see you next week” you say “I’ll see you next year!”

I want to know why.  Why do people always say that?  They inevitably follow it with the awkward laughter and/or one of those stupid finger point things which means they KNOW they are being corny and weird yet they can’t help themselves.

Is it because there is only a short window where you can say “I’ll see you next year”?  Is the rarity of it somehow really appealing?  And if that’s the case, then WHY the bizarro, slightly ashamed, reaction as soon as the words leave your mouth?

I feel like this is just one of those inexplicable winter traditions.  It’s been engrained in us to say it.  We don’t want to.  We feel stupid doing it.  But we always end up saying it.

I’ll see you next year*.

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*I won’t ACTUALLY see you next year (well, not most of you anyway).  Nor will it be next year until you hear from me again.  I’ll be traveling in the next few days, but I promise you’ll hear from me before January 1st.  And don’t worry–I’ve got some lovely ladies to fill in for me while I’m gone so be sure to stop by and show them some love too!

Aw, you’re just not ready to be a little housewife yet, are you?

Did you ever start into something, knowing full well that it’s going to end very badly, but pushed right ahead anyway?

I did that this weekend.

I ran errands.

More specifically, I went to Target.

I love Target, that should be known right of the bat, but Target 2 Saturdays before Christmas is an entirely different beast.  And it is a BEAST.

In order to be charitable (and b/c of the crapass economy) our company canceled our holiday party and suggested that we participate in one of a few different charity options.  (As a side note, the big party was canceled and then a small party was reinstated and made mandatory.  Go figure).  We had two choices but given that I don’t own any winter coats that I’m not currently wearing, I opted out of the coat drive.

That left me with Operation Santa Claus.  Yes, just like on 30 Rock.  I got a little boy and his sister who lived in the Bronx and gave me very helpful suggestions of what to buy, including clothing and shoe sizes and the toys they’d like the most.  Not greedy at all–just informative.

So I made use of Boo’s car and schlepped to Target.  When I got inside there were absolutely no baskets left.  I always prefer the basket to the cart–it limits the spending and at Target, that’s always a good idea.  But I sucked it up and grabbed the last cart in the store that didn’t have a huge carseat attached to it.  I tried to do a quick search for some things that I needed first but with that stupid cart, I could barely navigate the aisles.

My first dangerous encounter occured somewhere near the sock section.  I was trying to pull back into the main aisle but I was blocked by 2 women who were deep in conversation about how “girlfriend should totally break up with him b/c he’s not treating her well” but “she’d never do that b/c his gifts is too nice.”  Rather than interrupt that, I tried to just side-step them.  Unfortunately there was a lone, empty cart in my way.  As I attempted to pass it, I clipped it’s back wheel.  The women stopped talking–apparently it was their cart.  I mumbled sorry and they were all “yeah you SHOULD be sorry!” “Try saying ‘excuuuuuse me’ next time!”

I slunk away as quickly as I could while pushing the bohemath cart.  I did NOT want to get into with anyone before I even made it to the toy aisle.

My letter’s author had requested one gift specifically.  Unfortunately for me, they didn’t readily stock this gift and the object was quite elusive.  I was trolling up and down the aisles, searching in vain, dodging small children and grabby adults alike. (As another side note, WHY bring your kids with you when you are shopping for them?  Doesn’t that kind of shatter the Santa illusion?)

I couldn’t handle it.  I pulled out of there as quickly as I could and found solace in the closest empty space I could find.  This happened to be right by the dog food.  I called my mom, mid-panic attack.  She picked up and I started freaking out, threatening to break down and cry in the toy aisle (to the great amusement of a fellow shopper–I’m pretty sure she knew my pain).  My mom told me “THERE IS NO CRYING IN TARGET!” and so I had to get it together and pick out this damn toy.  I made her stay on the phone with me though–moral support at a time like that is crucial.

I finally made it out alive, and more importantly, with toys!  But oh no, my day wasn’t over yet.  I decided it would be a good idea to hit Kohl’s on my way home.  I had a coupon and their bras were on sale–Merry Christmas to me!  But after missing the turn and nearly running the same red light TWICE (once when I mistakenly turned into the gas station and again when I finally pulled out of that lot and floored it to get into the turning lane I actually needed to be in) I said the hell with that.

I had one last stop.  The grocery store.  I only needed a frozen pizza, beer, shredded cheese and toilet paper.  That SHOULD have been a short stop.  I grabbed everything I needed and jumped into the shortest line I could see.  Behind 2 old ladies.  That was a bad idea.

The first lady took 10 minutes to bag her stuff.  No no, the eggs have to be double bagged separately and then they have to be in the front seat of the cart.  No, I can’t have the bread and the muffins in the same bag.  They need different bags.  On and on.  I tuned her out and read up on Tom Cruise’s life in pictures or something equally compelling.

Finally she left and the second old lady moved up.  She had brick after brick of cheese–Jarlsberg, Gouda, Brie–and 2 lobster rolls.  Hers is a  house I would not want to be in.  Just sayin’.  The cashier rang everything up and told her the total: $76.59.  The lady pulled out 2 gift cards and the cashier told her to swipe it like a normal credit card.  She swiped and handed both cards over.  Okay, she said, now your total is $26.59–did you want to use both of these?  No no, said the old lady, I get that back.  Then they went back and forth about how the old lady only used 1 of the cards and the second card still had money on it and she could use that $50 gift card for the balance.  This was explaining calculus to a 3-year-old (or to me b/c lord knows I wouldn’t get it).  It was unbearable.  And of course, there was no telling which card was the used card and which card wasn’t.  That was a fun game to play while figuring it out.

I gave my condolences to the cashier, who after those women looked ready for a smoke, a drink and a bullet to the head and loaded my stuff into the car.  I decided I’d do for Boo/Jade what my dad used to do for me/Conan.  Borrow the car but fill it up.  So I pulled into the Citgo by his house, pulled up to the pump and got ready to get gas for the first time in over a year.  I ended up with the broken pump.  I thought it was standard gas pump procedure that you put the nozzle in the tank, pull the handle and the gas comes out.  Well apparently this nozzle was busted and if you pulled the handle too far (read: normal handle-pulling for all working nozzles) it would click off.  I had to hold the handle mid-way the ENTIRE time I filled up.  The gas was dripping slowly, cent by cent into the car.  I gave up.  I paid.  I ended up having filled the tank anyway after spending 10 painstaking minutes balancing the handle of the pump.

When at last I maneuvered the left turn out of the parking lot I floored it home.  I grabbed all the bags and toddled upstairs.  Still shaking from the day’s adventure.  Boo grabbed my bags when I, panting and shaking, reached the top of the stairs and he followed me into the kitchen where I promptly told him everything that had happened and requested a beer while already shoving my mouth full of Peppermint Moose Munch ($2.99 @ Target!).

While I was shaking and seething and still asking for that beer, Boo just looked at me and, through TEARS of laughter said, “Aw, you’re just not ready to be a little housewife yet, are you?”

Thankfully I thought it was hilarious.  Plus, he followed that with “I’m kidding! I’m kidding! I swear I’m kidding!” and a Sierra Nevada.  Otherwise, the afternoon could have gotten even scarier!

Enough is enough

For weeks–actually years– now something has been bothering me and I need to just get it out there.

I hate Spencer Pratt.

I hated him when he kicked Heidi out of the car and left her in the parking lot.  I hated him when he did whatever jackassy thing he did at the bar that caused LC to yell into the phone “like I had to PICK UP MY BEST FRIEND and CARRY her UP THE STAIRS!” (Okay, I only partially hated him for that b/c that LC line is the best!).

And now, with one week until this season’s finale, I have to come clean about this hatred.

Spencer and his (as Joel McHale calls it) “creepy flesh-colored beard” annoy the snot out of me.  EVERY week he’s yelling at Stephanie to have loyalty to her FAMILY.  She’s not loyal, she needs to be more loyal, loyal, loyal, loyal….  But yet, EVERY week, he’s telling Heidi that, rather than be LOYAL to her FAMILY, she be LOYAL to him!  She had to kick her sister out of the house b/c Holly’s being there meant Heidi wasn’t being LOYAL to Spencer.  And don’t get me started on the fact that Spencer made Heidi’s mother CRY–on national television.

Are you kidding me with that?  How many times can Spencer say “loyal” in one episode?  The boy overuses words like it’s his job (he’s the only person on earth who could somehow make the word “Nana” seem obscene and offensive) which it may actually be.  I’ve never seen that Spencer works.  I’ve never seen signs of him having any sense of employment.

Case in point?  He crashed Heidi’s Vegas business meeting (not just a baby-sized show-up-at-the-hotel-and-talk-to-her-at-the-end-of-the-night but a full-blown-pull-her-out-of-the-meeting-and-whine-at-her-sized crash).

I think that there is something seriously wrong with Spencer.  For those who didn’t watch last night’s episode, skip this bit.

In the episode, Spencer kidnapped took Heidi to Cabo (b/c apparently MTV owns stock in some Cabo resort–everyone from Laguna to The Hills has gone) with the intention of marrying her.  Not the big fancy wedding that she wanted but a crappy, sketchy, “romantic” wedding.  An “unplanned” wedding where they had to buy rings at the gift shop*.  (Remember this fact: it will be important later).  Then Spencer got Heidi so drunk of Patron that I’m willing to bet she barely knew her own name and convinced her to marry him in a speech that, as soon as I heard it, led me to believe that he will, at some point, murder her.  Just sayin’.

So they did it.  Without loyalty to family.  Without anyone but The Hills camera crew and a reporter from USWeekly.

For those who didn’t watch, it’s okay to pay attention again.

So like I said, I’m convinced that there is something wrong with Spencer.  It seems odd to me that we’re never introduced to Spencer’s parents.  His sister and Nana agreed to be associated with him.  But the parents didn’t.  We’ve seen Brody’s mom, Lauren’s parents, Heidi’s parents, Whitney’s parents and Audrina’s sister.  But Spencer’s rents?  Not once.

Are they super busy/rich?  I somehow don’t think that’s the case.  Remember that point* I told you to store away?  Pull it out now, you’ll need it.  Spencer is cheap.  He went to Mexico knowing that he wanted to get married but he didn’t think to bring rings.  He knew his ring size.  He knew Heidi’s–he’d bought her a ring before.  Even Justin Bobby managed to get a ring (next week’s previews).  But Spence just couldn’t make that happen.  And Heidi’s first ring?  I vaguely recall him asking Brody to spot him some cash during the drive to ICE Accessories.  I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to get an engagement ring at a store with the word Accessories in the name.  Just sayin’.

I have to say, I feel better now that I’ve come clean about that.  I know, I know–it’s just reality TV, it’s all scripted, everyone needs a villain.  I don’t care.  I litterally shudder when I see him on screen.  Rachel and I yell at the TV EVERY week as a result of Spencer.  Boo wishes death on him.  The boy makes my skin crawl.

Does this mean I put way too much stock into what I watch on TV?  Most likely.

But you know, I do feel better now that I’ve gotten all these anti-Spencer feelings out there.

That’s what I get for being early for once

This morning I was early.  I am never early.  I am on time, sure, but I am never early.

Since I was early though, I decided to take advantage.  Well, actually I decided to stall so that I would be closer to “on time” than “early” to the office.  Early on a Monday is just lame.  (No, I’m kidding.  Being early/on time is awesome!)

Anyway…I decided to pop in to Starbucks for a cup of tea.  My throat is a bit sore this morning so I decided tea would be the best call.  I was following a girl who was power walking in heels (not easy) and when we got to the door we met another girl coming from the opposite direction–one that had “bitch” written all over her face.

So Power Heels held the door for someone who was leaving and OD Bitch scowled and snarled (okay, it was more of a disgusted grunty sigh, but that’s harder to make into a verb, no?).  We walked inside, me still following Power Heels and ODB slid right up to the counter.  I assumed she had bad eyes and couldn’t read the board and wanted to figure out what she wanted.

But I was wrong.

Power Heels orders her drink at the closest of the the 3 registers and ODB is still standing in front of the middle one.  That cashier finishes w/whoever she’d been helping and ODB steps forward.  The cashier goes “were you in line?” and ODB says, without pause but DRIPPING with attitude, “uh yeah.  I was next.”

I stood there.  I just stood there.  I was in such SHOCK that this bitch–who walked in the door right behind me…BEHIND me–passed the line-abiding customers and rolled right in front.  I was shocked and I was pissed.  You don’t mess with people’s morning beverage!

But, given the scowl she had after Power Heels was being NICE to someone, I thought it in my best interest to keep my mouth shut.  I’m pretty sure she would have killed me.

My one small victory was that my drink was ready before her breakfast was (tea is easier to throw together than a bagel that has to be toasted…with butter…AND cream cheese) and I got to say, partially snippy but partially politely “excuse me” and reach, a little more in her way than needed, to get my drink.

Of course I immediately went up to the office, put sugar in my tea and then sloshed it over the side of the cup and burnt my hand.

There’s really no such thing as karma.

THON Update: 12/8-12/14

Hey everyone, time for our THON totals for the week. For those of you who may just be stumbling on this site, click here to read about what I’m doing.5 cents for every comment on every new post b/w November 12 and February 20, up to $100.  I’m not counting pingbacks or my own comments either.

At the end of the fifth week the total is:

$3.00 + $2.00 from Crissy’s Wednesday post b/c I borrowed that for my own and I’m counting her comments, so thanks Crissy’s queefs!

So the total total (can I phrase it like that?) for the week is $5.00

The total so far:

$17.65

Keep up the comments!!!  ForTheKids!!