On the drive home from a friend's house tonight, I got too wrapped up in singing a Green Day tune on the radio to pay complete attention to the road. While passing through a relatively busy area, I saw in my peripheral vision a large black and white animal dart in front of my car. It happened so fast that I didn't have time to swerve out of the way. The front of my car bounced upward as the animal (which I think may have been a cat of significant girth) went under my tires.
With my heart racing, I checked in my rear view mirror after I passed but saw nothing. There was nothing on the road behind me! No dead animal carcass anywhere. I panicked, thinking the poor critter must have been flung from the street, or worse yet, caught under my car. There was no way that this thing could have gotten up and run away; I was going nearly 40 miles an hour when I hit it dead on. It gave my car hydraulics.
I then pulled over to check if the poor thing was splayed out on my tires. Nothing. So I drove back to the murder scene to look for it. I needed to know what happened to him. But there was nothing. After a while I gave up and drove home, completely horrified that I just took out what very well could have been someone else's beloved pet. I feel horrible.
I found out recently that my employer decided to extend everyone's Christmas holiday, so I'll have 10 straight paid days off. Movie marathon!
After lunch today my mom and I decided to do a little Christmas shopping. We hit Crate & Barrel because there were always so many shiny and colorful things in there that caughth my attention. It's like a little fantasy land, full of all the stuff I planned to buy when I won the Mega Millions Lottery.
As usual, I saw lots of shiny and colorful (and expensive) things. But every time an item lured me closer, I found myself thinking about how that very same object would probably be sitting on a shelf collecting dust a year from now. It would do little else but take up space and drain my pocket book.
New things don't excite me like they used to. I can see past the novelty now, and it makes it hard for me to enjoy shopping.
I don't know if that's a good thing or not... I mean, on the one hand, it may be that I'm becoming less materialistic. If that's the case, then kudos to me. Americans tend to live for the accumulation of junk, and it's such a waste. I don't want to be like that.
On the other hand, I don't get to enjoy receiving gifts like I used to, because I'm always worried that I'm accumulating too much stuff. Even giving gifts frustrates me, because I don't want to add to the junk culture. If I buy gifts for people, it's not enough for me that they like it. They have to love and need it and use it like they can't be without it. That's a lot of pressure. This is why I've resigned myself to buying gift cards and chocolate.
I wish I knew where my warped relationship with "stuff" came from.
Courtesy of my ever-so-sensitive father, upon hearing of the death of Pat "Mr. Miyagi" Morita yesterday:
I guess the tea didn't work.
Karate Kid fans will recognize the reference.
So random.
For always having everything I need
My niece Maria, and the funny way she growls
Apple Ipods
Having a job to complain about
That my aunts don't nag me about getting married
The dollar section at Target
Losing 35 pounds and fitting into my jeans
Having health insurance
My Old Roomie's visit home in December
Getting to start over in life
Air hockey and Crash Bandicoot
Alton Brown's show on Food Network
The Chronicles of Narnia
Friends that tolerate my moodiness
Cindy Sheehan's courage and persistance
My grandma's wisdom and sensibility
Rachel Joy Scott
Sesame chicken from Chin's Pagoda
The fact that my car is still running
3fatchicks.com
That GM won't cut my mom's job this year
MXPX and Green Day
Having a blog for whining
The most comfortable bed on Earth
People who value the freedom to dissent
The Biggest Loser for inspiration
My wonderful pets, Nikki and Weezie
Getting every green light on the drive home
That I'm still alive
The new Chipotle that just opened on Euclid Ave
Psychology and neuroscience
The awesomeness of Real Live Preacher
Having a warm coat to wear
The $10 bill I found in my pocket today
Catching a deep red sunset in my rear view mirror
Anyone see the new installment? I've been trying to decide whether or not I should bother. I'm not an HP reader, and I don't have My Old Roomie on hand to explain all of the things I won't understand. I don't want to fork over $9.00 only to end up lost and confused. Driving through University Cirlce lets me do that for free.
My sister-in-law informed me recently that I've been drafted to take part in family photos this weekend. I have no say whatsoever in this. Now, I know I'm supposed to be really pumped and everything... after all, I only have two pictures of me with my niece Maria, and they're both crappy. The ones from Sears or Target or wherever the heck we're going will probably be a lot better.
Still, I hate getting my picture taken. There's something about having a visual record of myself out of my control that I don't like. I can no longer deny that I used to wear flannel shirts because other people have real evidence against me. Same with poofy permed hair and side ponytails. I want to destroy it all.
The worst part about this is that these will be family pictures. They'll get passed around at Christmas to all the aunts and uncles and cousins and wifes and husbands and kids and grandmas. They'll get framed and be placed on shelves and walls and television sets. I hate that.
I'm going to have to be very careful to wear something that won't embarass me six or seven years from now. That's a lot of pressure!
Nikki looks like he's doing better tonight. He's actually moving a little today, and he ate all of his food, but he's got a wicked infection that looks like someone punched him in the face.
He'll be on antibiotics for a month for his eye and respiratory infections, assuming his lethargy is nothing too sinister. I'll take it.
Yesterday I came home from work to find my rat Nicodemus sick and nearly unable to move. The day before he was his usual self, running, climbing, exploring... and now he's dragging his hind legs and struggling to reach the food hopper.
Rats don't do stuff like this unless they're in serious trouble. This is the same thing that happened to Fat Bastard before he died last year. He had cancer.
I don't want him to die. I hate losing my pets.
I'm changing the email address for this website. No longer the head case I used to be, I've outgrown queendrina and would like to put her to rest (plus I have a professional job and I don't think my colleagues would appreciate having use that address). Just use my other address: drinavurbic[at]hotmail[dot]com. I'll update the links here whenever I stop feeling lazy.
To tell you the truth, it frightens me a little. A quote from Pat Buchanon's editorial at the conservative website Americablog:
"Democratic imperialism is still imperialism. To Arab and Islamic peoples, whether the Crusaders come in the name of God or in the name of democracy, they are still Crusaders."
I've been noticing lately that my rats, Nicodemus and Weezie, are getting increasingly chubby. Now, I know that rats are supposed to get fat (hence the label "fat rat") and the sewer types in NYC could put mine to shame, but they're both still too pudgy.
I created a type of South Beach program for them --I cut all of the sugary foods out of their diets. No more sweet yogurt drops or rat candies, and definitely no human food unless it's a vegetable.
They've been on this diet now for a few weeks and I swear they're just getting fatter. They're so big I need two hands to lift them --I can't get my fingers even halfway around their bellies anymore.
Why is it so gosh darn hard to lose weight nowadays?
Apartment hunting is hard. All I can find in my price range is scary looking buildings across from crack houses and units that are entirely beige, from floor to ceiling. I mean, okay, beige is a warm neutral color that make people feel relaxed. Fine. But is it necessary to have beige carpets and walls in every room? Doesn't that get nauseating after a while? I can't imagine anyone that could tolerate so much beige-ness, save perhaps for my mom. She likes beige, but I don't think I can handle it.
So I look onward.
Am I the only one who's addicted to the show? I've been doing the simultaneous tv-and-treadmill method lately, and the more I watch the more I walk. These fat people inspire me. And Matt looks really good with his new hair cut.
Also, I voted yesterday... unfortunately, most of the issues I voted for failed. Corruption lives on in Ohio.
The House of Blues was sold out last night, and after two sucky opening bands MXPX totally rocked it. It seemed like all of the fans were out that night --the old schoolers who remember the days of Teenage Politics, and the newbies who caugh onto the band with Panic. Sarah and I were about 25 feet from the stage, so we had a really good view. Of course, that meant people were pushing past us the whole night (very annoying) and Sarah got burned by someone's cigarette, but it was still a great show.
And now for my new favorite picture of Maria:
Off to see MXPX tonight at the House of Blues. Woooooooooo
After eating three fun-size Snickers bars and a Kit Kat last night, I spent almost 120 minutes today huffing and puffing trying to make up for my bad behavior. Fat girls on treadmills can do a lot of huffing, believe me, and now I'm all out of breath. And I think I broke my hamstrings.
To tell you the truth, I'm a little disappointed with myself right now. I made a promise not to eat any Halloween candy, because a piece of chocolate is my equivalent of a Lay's potato chip --I can't have just one. But that bowl of candy at my brother's house looked too damn inviting and I got jealous of all the other guests helping themselves. So today, I kept working out until the YMCA closed in the hopes that it would cancel out the chocolate. We'll see if that strategy worked.
Before Halloween came along, I was down more than 35 pounds. I lost an entire toddler without having to dial police, and I'm really proud of that. But it worries me that I'm nowhere near done yet and already the Kit Kats are attacking. If I have to do a two-hour repentance the day after Halloween, will I ever get to leave the gym in the aftermath of Thanksgiving? And what about Christmas? Should I just invest in an air mattress and set up shop in the back corner?
Seriously, the holiday season worries me, especially due to the fact that I come from a long line of prolific holiday bakers. On Thanksgiving my mom will make seventeen dishes for each family member and prepare every kind of dessert known to man. It's a recipe for disaster, and my hamstrings can only handle so much. Seriously, I'm in trouble.
What I love:
