Back to you, it always comes around back to you. I tried to forget you, I tried to stay away, but it’s too late….

Hello blogosphere!

Long time, no see!!

As you may have deduced, I have returned from my trip abroad and made it safely back to the lovely USA. My trip was awesome and amazing and every positive adjective you can imagine and I definitely did not want to come home, but now that I am home, I am definitely glad to be back.

The following things were what I was most excited about coming home to:

1. Chiefy
2. My Bed

Yeah, that’s it.

Besides being exhausted and wanting nothing to do with stairs or being awake, I have also been a complete basket case.  The reasons, however, I just don’t feel comfortable sharing with the entire world on the internet, so I apologize for that. I really didn’t need to share that part with you guys, but considering the mess I’ve been, I just haven’t been myself since I’ve been back.

I met some really great people and really, really loved every minute of the trip. It was amazing and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I’m beyond glad I had the chance to experience everything I did.

Now that I’m back, I have so much to do and getting back to reality kinda blows.

I have so much work still to do for class and it seems like I have a never-ending supply of laundry. I only packed 50 pounds worth of stuff, but I just am struggling to put everything away. I hope I remember how to be in the real world and execute the functions of my job. That will be an adventure tomorrow morning. As will waking up at a normal time in EST.  My body clock is all out of whack and I never have any idea what time it is.

I just wanted to quickly update that I made it back safely and that I hadn’t abandoned my blog for forever.  I’m back and am trying to get back into the swing of things.

🙂

Well, baby, I’m a put-on-a-show kinda girl. Don’t like that backseat, gotta be first!

Here is what I have learned about success:

It’s all about managing expectations.

For example, I try to go first whenever I can when giving presentations in class.  That way, no matter how ill-prepared I may be or how often I fumble over my words or even how lame my powerpoint presentation really is, there is no one to compare it to yet.  Going first allows the presenter to set the expectations for the rest of the presentations and is the one that the rest are measured against.

If I can help it, I never, ever go last.  Going last is simply not an option.  I’m not that much of a douche bag that I will email my professor ahead of time and insist on going first, but I definitely try to be that person that is like, “Oh, yeah, no big deal, I’ll go first if no one else wants to.” You know, all nonchalant.  And when someone else is like “Oh, I want to go first!” (because that always happens- there are always other freaks like me who want to set the bar low) I’m always like *Hulk’d up* NO I’M GOING FIRST, YOU IDIOT FUCK!

Just kidding, I don’t turn green, grow three times my regular size, or bust out of my white (??) shirt and purple pants.  I don’t even shout at my classmates. I simply keep it real and let everyone know what’s up: I must go first.

In life, I finally learned to be that kid at a birthday party to have her gift opened first.  There were far too many times I tried to be that girl whose present was so good it had to be saved for last. You know, that whole save the best for last bullshit.  But what parents don’t tell you and what you learn after birthday party after birthday party is that it sucks when someone else gives the same gift as you- or worse, someone gives a better present than yours.  That is a situation that takes you on a bullet train to Sucktown.

The best time to give your gift is first.  That way, you have the best gift of the day, even if it’s just for a moment.  That’s a moment you can’t get back. And, that way, if there is a duplicate gift situation, you don’t look like a dickhole and you don’t have to sit in the corner and cry because someone gave the same gift you did.  You can know that you have won. (Because winning is really all that matters- ask Charlie Sheen.)

At work, you have to manage expectations too. If you do something really impressive one day that is something that is expected to be repeated, you better believe that you have just set a precedent.  You will be held to that standard from now on.  That is totally fine if you don’t mind working your butt off to constantly exceed expectations and/or consistently perform at a high level.  But if you’re lazy as fuck and it was done on a fluke, then you’re pretty much up Chocolate Creek without a popsicle stick. If you’re lazy as fuck at work and really just want to do the least amount of work as possible, then you should never do anything more than what is expected of you. Because that is the kiss of death for you, and you can no longer be lazy as fuck.

I have finally realized that even dealing with some family drama, it all comes down to managing expectations.  Drew and I have tried (and failed at) the being-sneaky approach- that just ends in tears (including my own). We can’t just lie about our plans and spring them on a certain person at the last minute- a shitstorm of drama explodes out of seemingly nowhere.  We have also tried the let’s-be-really-vague-about-our-plans approach and that just ended in bitterness, shouting, resentment, anger, and, yes, you guessed it, tears (including my own).  Being vague has usually just resulted in having to lie (which we all know I am not good at) and/or just really awful family moments.

So, this time, we are trying the honesty-is-the-best-policy approach.  This approach includes telling both parties exactly what’s up and setting clear expectations for everyone involved. That way, when the time comes to leave, no one is surprised or upset.  I’m psyched about this.

Here’s hoping.

So, my friends, go forth and embrace this managing expectations lifestyle I have adopted.  Share with me your success stories. Or just stories about your childhood birthday parties. I would enjoy that as well.

I’m Fergalicious (so delicious), my body stay vicious. I be up in the gym just working on my fitness. He’s my witness (oh, wee!), I put yo’ boy on rock, rock! And he be lining down the block just to watch what I got (four, tres, two, uno)

I am 36 minutes into the film Tangled.

I’ve been giggling like an idiot.

Tangled came out on DVD (and Blu-Ray- if you’re into that. We have one but I tend to forget about it….) today and you better believe I bought it.  I went straight to Target today (after I took a two hour nap, put gas in my car and remembered it was Tuesday) and purchased it. It was the only thing I bought. And let’s get real: there are at least 42 things at Target that I can easily convince myself into thinking I need on any given trip. Like, how one time I dropped 82 dollhairs and I couldn’t even explain what I bought without looking at my loot. But, alas, I practiced some self control.

It doesn’t even matter that I’m 23 years old and still have a deep, deep love for Disney movies.  Don’t hate. You know you have the same love that I do.

Speaking of Disney movies, I found something on the internet the other day that I simply MUST share with you.  It’s one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen.

Oh wait, that wasn’t the Disney thing I wanted to show you but it is worth sharing anyway.  I watch that video of those precious, little red pandas, like, every day and just giggle my face off. The music… it’s perfect. Good lord, I can’t get enough.

Okay, guys, here’s the Disney thing I wanted to show you.

It’s been floating around the internet for a while but I stumbled upon it the other day and immediately put that shit on facebook.

My love of Disney may make me seriously consider skipping the season finale of Teen Mom 2 tonight. And by seriously consider I mean I will skip the finale and finish watching Tangled in one sitting. Because, damn it, I’ve waited since Christmastime for this movie to be on DVD so I could see it again. And because I love Mandy Moore. And because I really don’t want to get up off the couch to get the remote to flip over to TV and turn on MTV.

What? My legs hurt.  I got my Fergie on today (“…workin’ on my fitness”).

Also, next time I’m drunk enough to humiliate myself and a) not care and/or b) not remember, I’m gonna use this: Somebody get me a glass ‘cause just found me a tall drink of water!

Where are we? What the hell is going on? The dust has only just begun to fall, crop circles in the carpet, sinking feeling. Spin me round again and rub my eyes. This can’t be happening.

I haven’t missed a day of blogging since I started this here blog.

Sure, there have been days that I haven’t felt like it. And days when you can tell I was only posting because I had to, because it was my own personal commitment.  And days when I put forth as little effort as possible for various reasons such as I’m lazy or I had procrastinated too much and had too much homework to put forth the effort and time to write a quality post.  And days when I half-ass it just cause I can (do we recall those Sunday lists from a while back?)

But there have been those rare days when I actually say something funny. Or tell you a story of how I’m dumb.

I guess my point is, I feel like most of the time I don’t suck and I do try to post something worth reading.

Today, friends, is just not one of those days.

I’m in a funk and I can’t even talk about it.  I’m stressed the fuck out and completely consumed by this anxiety.

I’m trying not to be an alarmist, but I’m freaking out.

 

Also, I really miss Gilmore Girls. That show never should have ended the way it did. Fuck you, CW. Thanks for ruining my life.

Oh, and fuck you, too, FOX, for canceling the OC.

Life ruiners.

I just need to unwind in my time machine. I need to go far away; a few years back would be ok. I just need to unwind in my time machine

I wrote a ten page paper today.

And by today I mean I did it all after 4pm.

I’m not even going to get into any discussion of daylight savings time because we all know I’ll only end up confused, upset and bewildered.

I only mention it now because it pertains to my day in the sense that when I woke up this morning, it was an hour later than it would have been had it been as things were just yesterday.  I hate that we lost an hour. It meant that when I awoke at 9:06 this morning, as my clock alerted me, it was 10:06 in actuality. It meant that I had wasted that hour without the perks of gaining an actual hour of sleep or spending that time on the couch watching two episodes of Say Yes to the Dress.

And let me tell you, I did spend time on the couch this morning watching Say Yes to the Dress! However, this was done as I sulked silently about “losing an hour.”

I spent the rest of my morning sitting in my own filth and baby-talking to the dog.  He eventually grew tired of this and decided to go sleep with his butt against the wall, as he usually does.

Evidenced here:

What's this about??

And here:

After I tired of watching Say Yes to the Dress, I decided I would finish season one of The Sopranos.

I feel so badass when I watch that show.  Mob life fascinates me. Actually, violence and crime in general tend to fascinate me. I live such a sheltered life that I pretty much just read about it on Wikipedia or live vicariously through TV shows and movies.

It was just before 2 o’clock when I decided to shower.  Once I was clean, I definitely felt more awake but I still lacked the motivation required to write my stupid case study for class.  So, instead, I watched an entire disk of season six of Entourage (each disk contains four episodes, which are, like, thirty minutes in length).

Yeah. I’m that lazy.

It was after I had wasted almost an entire day that I decided I would begin the research I needed to do in order to write my case study. I hate that part, actually, because it takes such a long time. And it requires so much reading until you find a source that you can manipulate enough to support your point.  If I’m being honest, I started out with the intent of only using the bare minimum of three external sources besides our textbook. But the 95% I got on last week’s case study really got my goat, and I knew I really needed to exceed the minimum requirements.

Yeah. I’m that much of a perfectionist.

95% irritated me.

Who am I?

Anyway, my point is, I wrote a ten page research paper inside of five hours.  I also feel pretty good about this week’s case study.

Basically, like Charlie Sheen, I’m gonna put this day in the Win column.

Driving away from the wreck of the day, and it’s finally quiet in my head. Driving alone, finally on my way home to the comfort of my bed.

Things that upset me:

• Josh Duhamel is married to Fergie. Still.
• My local Target was all out of the eye shadow primer I use.
• I ran out of shampoo this morning.
• Miracle Whip has commercials on tv. I hate Miracle Whip. What the fuck is it??? Why?! Ew. Obviously, mayonnaise > miracle whip (why are they even comparable???).
• Creeper men keep hitting on me (including at my workplace!). No thank you!
• I went to the secretary of state today. Ugh.
• I really want a glass of water but I don’t want to get up off the couch and no one else is here to bring me any water.
• I can’t stop reading the most appalling blog ever, but for fear of offending the author or said blog, I will not link to it. It’s a train wreck and I’m consistently appalled by everything that is posted. I wish I could stop but I just cannot.
• I don’t have an audiobook to listen to on my way to work tomorrow because I just finished The Host (again).
• Scott Foley is on Grey’s Anatomy this season. While this fact does not upset me, the fact that Felicity ended after four seasons does. Even though Noel drove me up a fucking wall on Felicity, I have a deep, almost unhealthy love for that show.
• The library in my town would not issue me a library card today because my address actually resides within the next tiny county. It was explained to me that while I can use the system of libraries for which I tried to obtain a library card today, I have to have my card issued at the tiny piece of shit library I didn’t know existed in my county. Ugh. Why does everything have to be so difficult?
• My iPod will not sync with my iTunes. I don’t know what to do.
• Where the hell did Anna Nalick go? I loved her first album. And let’s just get real for a minute: who didn’t love “Breathe (2 AM)”?!?!?
• I can’t decide if I’m happy about the change I made in the format/design of my blog.

I’m just whiney right now.

Every time I turn around, brothers gather ’round, always lookin’ at me up and down, lookin’ at my ohhh? I just wanna say it now, I ain’t tryin’ to round up drama little mama, I don’t wanna take your man. And I know I’m comin’ off just a little bit conceited and I keep on repeatin’ how the boys wanna eat it but I’m tryin’ to tell that I won’t be treated like clientele, ’cause they say she’s delicious…!

Due to poor planning on my part, I don’t have anything today.

I was feeling uninspired last night when I tried to write, so I decided I’d wait until today to do it, like normal. But today, I was busy. And then when I had time to write, I didn’t feel the creative thoughts rolling around in my noggin. Then I forgot it it was Tuesday once I got home from class tonight. And now it’s technically almost Wednesday, and I’ve got nothing.

So, with that said, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I’m such a terrible blogger.

I’m sorry to have let you down.

But, on the plus side, here’s this:

This gets me every single time.

Oh, on second thought, I did discover something today:

After a long, long time of forgetting it existed, I fell in love with Fergie’s album from 2006. Again.

And after a long, long time of not hearing “Fergalicious” I found out I can do the tiny little rap-like breakdown she does in the middle of the song. Flawless. Like a pro. I’m practically Fergie I’m so good at it.

You’re jealous.

I know.

I mean, I remember when I was an idiot and 19 years old and Sar and Erica and I would practice it, trying to figure out what she was saying and then working on being able to say it just like her. I remember being really happy with myself after I taught myself how to do it. I may have even called my boyfriend at the time and behaved like a ninny, all excited and ready to display this newfound talent. But I also remember he was not as impressed with this skill as I was.

Maybe that’s why he’s not my boyfriend now.

Look at me, I’m beautiful and glamorous in rubber gloves, look how my tiara can be bent back to the shape it was, I can do the laundry and make dinner while I’m on the phone, look at me, I’m sexy as the devil as I mow the lawn!

In preparing for my trip to Philadelphia (alone, because my travel buddy bailed and had to stay home to work all weekend 😦 sad face for me) I had to do laundry.

I read, you know? I read other blogs. And I read books. And it’s all, like, girly stuff. Stuff about relationships and being a mom and cooking and shiz. You know, all stuff that doesn’t apply to me since I’m not in a relationship, I’m not a mom, I have no domestic skills and consider getting a box of triscuits out of the pantry cooking.  But don’t judge. It’s my life. I can read what I want. You’re not the boss of me.

Anyway.  Laundry. Even though I know that laundry is a universal thing, you know, something everyone has to contend with, a lot of what I read about laundry is women (usually older than me) bitching about it.

I’m not mad about it. Go ahead and bitch. More bitching I say.

In fact, if I had to do laundry that didn’t belong to me, I’d probably bitch about it too.

fancy, fancy machines! I love the buttons! They make little noises!

And if I had little mess-makers who are noisy and get dirty, like really dirty, I’d probably hate laundry too.

If I had to fold tiny things that are hard to fold, like tiny pants and onesies and bibs and stuff, like Nikki does or like other moms on the internet, I’d be irritated.

If I had a husband who was clumsy and spilled shit all over his shirt or if I had a significant other (whose laundry I was responsible for doing) who changed outfits four times a day (like I do sometimes), I would be irritated.

If that was the case, I would bitch about laundry. I would be annoyed with how it never ends.  I’d be irritated that things don’t fold easily and look nice when it’s all said and done. I would probably be overwhelmed by how often I move items between the washer and the dryer. I’d probably hate the makers of all of this laundry as I sorted it into different piles.

But, alas, it’s just me.

Just my laundry.

So when it comes time for me to do laundry (read: when I run out of underwear- and trust me, I have a lottttt so it takes a looong time before I muster up the courage to partake in a domestic skill), I don’t really have anyone to blame but myself.

And I really enjoy sorting my clothes into color piles. I can examine how big each of the piles are and be like Damn, how do I have that much clothing?!

And then I enjoy pushing the buttons on the washing machine. And measuring out the soapy stuff and sniffing the fabric softener.

I enjoy dedicating hours to laundry. Because while my clothes are being washed and dried, I can chill out and watch The West Wing or Grey’s Anatomy under the guise that I’m doing laundry, or I’m waiting for my clothes to dry. That I couldn’t possibly leave or run errands or something because God forbid my clothes would wrinkle. And you would be correct in assuming I don’t know how to operate an iron.

The best part, though, is folding. I really, really love folding my laundry. There’s something about seeing a perfectly folded shirt or matching up my socks. I love it.

I guess we can add laundry to the list of reasons why I’d make an excellent wife someday. (lolz) Sure, it may be the only thing right now on that list but that’s fine since I have no marriage proposals on the horizon. Also, I’m not really interested in being a domestic goddess. Carrie Bradshaw did just fine in life and she kept sweaters in her oven.

Dear Mr. President, come take a walk with me. Let’s pretend we’re just two people and you’re not better than me, I’d like to ask you some questions if we can speak honestly…

1.) I watched a few episodes of The West Wing on dvd today.

2.) These episodes were viewed with subtitles.

3.) I enjoy subtitles. I think it’s funny to take note of when the actors say exactly what the tv says they say. Actors talk a lot more than the tv says. I like that.

4.) It is still my belief that Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, that TV show from 2006 that aired on NBC for one season, should never have been canceled. I loved everything about it. I hate NBC for canceling it.

5.) I miss Matthew Perry. And not the Matthew Perry in 17 Again because that was an awkward, old-looking Matthew Perry. I refuse to accept that image of him as reality.

6.) Everyone must see Easy A, that new teen movie with Emma Stone and Penn Badgley that references The Scarlet Letter. It was hilarious and I pretty much loved everything about it. Go. See. It.

7.) My voice has returned from when I was sick last week. I no longer sound like I’m dying, nor do I sound like a man. Yay!

8.) I really, really want chinese food. It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve had chinese food.

9.) Drew’s in Germany. We dropped him off at the airport in Detroit last night. Mom cried.

Girl, you’re beautiful, ’bout near perfect- but I bet somebody’s already told you that

Remember last time I was here and gave you a half-assed blog post because I was hungover?

If you said yes, then you can suck it because despite being hungover, I shared a precious father/daughter moment with you. And you’re an ungrateful little shit.

Okay, let’s be friends again. I really wanna tell you a story.

It’s pretty clear by now that I was a hot damn mess last Saturday night. My antics are still being described to me by those who were present (or received drunk-texts… I was particularly pleased with the ones I sent to my boss. OOOOOPS!). There were some events that I had forgotten took place. That’s the best, by the way, when your friends let you know about all the dumb shit you did and said DAYS later. (Thanks, guys.)

The point is that because of what a shit-show I was on Saturday, I reached a new level of lazy on Sunday, which, after all, is the day of rest. So go ahead and hate that I did NOTHING but sleep and watch Dawson’s Creek all day long. Just know that Jesus says it’s okay.

I mentioned it on twitter but I totally got a new phone on Sunday. I got myself a Blackberry. WHICH, by the way, they call it a Crackberry for a reason. I’m obsessed. I’m in love. It’s glorious.

Dino is superior to the stupid LG Shine.

I had to get a new phone because my old one just like… stopped working. It kept turning itself off and then told me to insert my sim card and I didn’t get why because my sim card was totally already inserted. Like, all Saturday night while I was trying to drunk-text the shit out of my contacts list, it kept being like “Katie, you’re a drunk bitch and you don’t even deserve me.”  But, we made it through the night alive, so that’s all that matters. Sunday, though, apparently all bets were off because it just decided to really stick it to me and really stop working.

So, to the AT&T store I went, in all my hungover glory and told that little bitch of a phone, “fuck you, I’m getting a smartphone, you idiotpieceofshit.” Just like that.

Luckily for Jon, the poor soul who had to deal with me, I had just showered… kinda recently. And by that I mean an hour before I went. But I didn’t brush my hair or even put make up on (duh). I had gotten up from the couch long enough for me to shower, put some underwear on underneath my sweatpants and brush my teeth before I started another episode of Dawson’s Creek and my brother Skype’d me.

As I walked into the mall from the parking lot, a group of four or five attractive African American gentlemen were walking out right towards me. One of those guys decided to fuck with me. He looked me up and down and was like, “how you doin’, pretty girl?” and I actually laughed at him.  Irony. Bahaha I mean, I did nottttt look “pretty” so he was clearly just rubbing it in. Rude.

Anyway, I got into the AT&T store and decided I should probably remove my sunglasses. And OF COURSE the hottest guy working had to be the one to have to help me. Jeez, this hangover was just fucking me left and right.

Long story short, turns out I was due for an upgrade so I had the best pricing available to me. And when I went to look at phones and figure out which phone I wanted, my hands were shaking so bad I finally told Jon I wasn’t actually a meth-addict or some other drug addicted degenerate despite the looks of me. I told him, “I’m sorry, I’m fine, I’m just really, really hungover.”

Right after that, our conversation flourished and I definitely felt a connection. We had similar attitudes towards drinking and terrorizing East Lansing. It was nice.  We also had a brief conversation about how I repel technology. It was nice as well.

Even during all of this embarrassment, I had resigned myself to the fact that this is just kinda how my life goes. And then I didn’t feel embarrassed. I stood at the counter, watching the Shake Weight commercial on the TV on the wall while he did all the crap he needed to do on the computer and transferring all my contacts and shiz to my new phone. We conversed about how awkward and hilarious that commercial is and I decided that my little hungover adventure into public looking like a huge mess was a success.

I feel pretty good about it.