Category Archives: Uncategorized

The sleeps, they approach.

Once again, I’m writing this in bed on my phone. This is not necessarily unusual, this being in bed before 9 on a Tuesday. Tuesdays are, for some reason, even more exhausting than Monday sometimes. Maybe because I’m expecting Monday. Maybe because they never seem to have any gd taco salad when I think they will. No, I don’t want your sketchy Chinese food, food court. Taco Salad Tuesday is a thing. Don’t mess with it. We did have tacos at home, though, with some gorgeous avocados from Target. Target! Who knew?

Or maybe it’s the cardio and studying for professional certification. I don’t know. One of those things did it.

(I am getting certified in customer service, which kinda frightens me for the future but I’m informed looks good on a resume and/or business card. Okay.)

Tuesdays. Why?

write write write write write write.

So I’m just about done with my part on Big Writerly Project and I wrote Lovefool and, therefore, I am going to go to bed and read and totally neglect this but let you know that I’m neglecting it so I don’t miss a day.

mwah,
emj

P.S. This is a copout, I know, but I’m just too tired to play ball. Please believe that I love each and every one of you and I will be back with Interesting Things tomorrow. At least as interesting as it gets around here.

Oh, Sunday.

Here is a progress report on doing ALL THE THINGS.

1. Buy a rake, a storage thingy for my desk so I can empty the chairs next to it and a plastic thing for cat food. ARG. There is always something.

2. Sort some things. (Mainly my “office” area.) Intimidating.

3. Make gooey butter cookies?

4. Do things with laundry. Like laundry.
5. Paint my nails. They’re getting long enough that they’re starting to look a little raggedy.
6. Balance our checkbooks.
7. Sort out this shoe situation. They’re everywhere. They’re starting to take over. But I kind of like having my shoes downstairs. It’s where I leave the house from and I don’t have to worry about falling down the stairs if I’m wearing heels.
8. Catch up on Big Writerly Project. I watched the last of what I needed to watch, kind of, sort of, now I just need to finish writing about it. I’m also waiting on some stuff for it, too.

9. Clean the living room. Definitely clean the living room.

I did go the gym today, even though I really didn’t want to. It makes me wonder if I’m forming a habit and that makes me feel weird because I’m not sure I’ve ever had a habit that didn’t involve slowly killing myself in some way.

So that’s where I am on the day/weekend/whatever. We had chili last night that Mr. J made and it was pretty delicious. It’s three on Sunday, which always has a certain sense of foreboding about it. Oh, well. I need to go assemble a hutch. I also still owe my friend a mix but I’m afraid that it was for a certain place and I’m not sure I want to send it now. I wish mail involved less leaving the house. Or that there was a post office with the automated thing nearby. That’d be nice. And I also have to write Lovefool. So, umm, there’s that, too.

Okay. Hutch assembly. No, really.

you know what some might say…

Gosh, indeed. I think winter is coaxing me back into bad habits. Sure, I’m going to the gym but I’ve also been drinking more and slouching around on the weekends not doing a damned thing that’s even remotely productive. And I’m not even going to lie – having a daily record of what I’ve been up to is making me look bad, mostly because I’ve spent the month of November being lazy, Big Writerly Project and hiding at the gym aside, and drinking too much delicious alcoholic cider. Check yourself, Ms. Jameson. Just because the days are getting shorter and colder and those pesky holidays are coming up is no excuse for you to act like a frat boy. Mr. Bffl will start sending concerned missives soon if we don’t get our act together.

So! Today, I am going to do the daylights out of ALL THE THINGS. Let’s see.

1. Buy a rake, a storage thingy for my desk so I can empty the chairs next to it and a plastic thing for cat food.
2. Sort some things. (Mainly my “office” area.)
3. Make gooey butter cookies?
4. Do things with laundry. Like laundry.
5. Paint my nails. They’re getting long enough that they’re starting to look a little raggedy.
6. Balance our checkbooks.
7. Sort out this shoe situation. They’re everywhere. They’re starting to take over.
8. Catch up on Big Writerly Project.
9. Clean the living room. Definitely clean the living room.

(Is it strange that I am very definitely a “Ms” in my mind? I understand that, technically, I’m a “Mrs” but I like to be a lady with a bit of mystery. Also, it’s easier to say.)

In the meantime, here is the second part of the intro that I posted yesterday. I’m still working on the names and this is very, very rough draft but, hey, in for a penny, yeah?

Ellie laughed and closed her locker, having finished her inspection for hangers-on. “The docs in?”

“Most of them. They’re all back in the rooms making sure they’re ready to go. Cleaning. Whatever it is they do back there. Sharpening their needles.”

“Waiting on me tonight, were you?” Ellie and Barney had been working together here for about a year and were fairly good friends, which made the job easier. She just laughed again when Barney stood up and made a grand gesture, half wave and half bow, indicating she should proceed him out of the break room and into the main part of the building. She tugged down her grey t-shirt and headed out to the main desk, carefully placed between two doors and in front of another. Flinging herself into her seat with enough force that it started to spin, she flipped on her computer and started taking a look at the night’s appointments. From her vantage point, she could look all the way down a tastefully beige hallway that led from the service entrance to her desk and saw Barney settling down on a tall office chair right next to the door itself, his book on a tall table next to him.

The time slowly inched closer to ten pm and, finally, at 9:57, Barney looked up at Ellie, pointed to his wrist and smiled. Ellie rolled her eyes back at him and put an earpiece in one ear and saw him do the same.

“How’s it looking out there?” Ellie touched a button on a panel that connected her directly to Barney. She liked to be prepared.

“Not bad. Got a few but not a big crowd. It is Tuesday, after all. Everyone’s probably still pretty full from the weekend. Maybe the folks here tonight worked it all off.”

“Gluttons.” Ellie pursed her lips as she disconnected Barney and hit another button that connected her to the back of the facility, to a small space where the docs typically gathered between patients. “Ready for the milkrun, docs?”

“Bring it. I suppose.” A drawling female voice that sounded decidedly bored answered her.

“Why, Amanda, I am shocked that you’re not more enthusiastic. Happy Tuesday!” Ellie disconnected that line as well, before hitting yet another button, this one to connect her to a PA that broadcast throughout the building.

“Attention staff. I’m letting the suckers in.” Giving any leftover cleaning staff a few seconds to make themselves scarce if they wanted to, she hit yet another button, this one setting a series of locks behind the service door whirring. Hitting the button to reach Barney again, she muttered a playful “Ready or not.”

“I’m ready.” Barney patted a long pocket in his cargo pants that she knew would open in an instant to reveal a long, wooden stake. And with that, Fayetteville Blood Bank was open for the evening.

Friday night. Gosh.

So tonight, I went to the gym and I was so about to cop out after the elliptical when David Bowie saved my workout. The song in question, Mr. Bowie’s “Little Wonder”, is approximately six minutes long so it allowed me to get past that done-ellipticalling-want-to-go-home hump and into my circuit training. It practically catapulted me to the thigh-torture-machine and I was propelled through the rest of my workout and I left feeling smug indeed.

Not that I’m not ruining it all by drinking some cider, anyway.

Fun fact! I do not have (What’s The Story) Morning Glory on my laptop. Isn’t that bizarre? And, yes, I am straight up listening to Oasis and drinking cider and getting ready to watch Doctor Who. (JG,FE, this isn’t an episode I’m supposed to start, it’s Steve’s gig and we’re on it and it’s Friday night.) iTunes is informing me that Oasis is “indie rock”, which is awesome because it means that I was indie when I was, like, wee. Wikipedia informs me that it came out in 1995.

ARG. It is hours later. We have watched many Doctor Who’s, which means I am reviewing while drunk and also trusting in apple’s autocorrect, and…well, you know. These things happen. I feel slightly guilty for judging Steven Moffat on Season One of his gig. Seems slightly unfair.

Anyway. I have to post this while it’s still today and I have had just enough to drink to share the first part of a book I wrote with you. Seriously, I wrote a book. The heroine is called Ellie. I like that name. And this is a very first draft.

Ellie Fitzgerald was not a morning person. It was just as well, then, that her alarm started going off at around five pm every evening, leaving her a good five hours with which to get up, sometimes after the sun had gone down, and get ready to face her day. Or night, as the case may be. Either way, every day at five pm, her old-fashioned alarm clock would start ringing, reminding her that she’d made it through another night, avoided the heat of the day and that it was time to wake up to the world. Ellie loved it. It was a running joke that she was half-vampire in the Fitzgerald house, given that she could barely function before noon. They’d laughed when she told them she had a night job. They hadn’t laughed so much when she told them what it was.

So Ellie would wake up, more or less around five, eat either dinner or breakfast and putter around until about nine pm, leaving her plenty of time to finish whatever chores she had to do, spend some time with her cats and get ready for work. She was one of those fortunate creatures who worked somewhere with a fairly lax dress code so she would normally throw on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt (blank, of course, wouldn’t do to start any unnecessary conversations with the customers) and a pair of sneakers and head out to the streets. Being one of those people who was vocationally charmed, it seemed, she lived close enough to work to bike so she would hop on her trusty metal steed and pedal through the streets. It was late summer so the last of the sun had slipped under the horizon but the weather was still warm enough that Ellie had just picked up a backpack and left her jacket at home.

Arriving at a carefully nondescript two-story building in a part of town currently being redeveloped, she’d maneuver her bike down the oddly busy block, nodding at acquaintances as she went, and finally turn down an alleyway of the sort that nice girls shouldn’t be casually biking down. Ellie wasn’t worried, though. She knew exactly what went bump in the night. She also knew it was probably pretty nibbly and that she was the grocery store clerk, so to speak, and the bumps in the night knew they better be nice to her. Chaining her bike up under the small white sign that said “FBB Service Entrance”, she’d punch a code in the startlingly solid metal door and wait briefly while a series of disconcerting noises happened behind the door. Eventually, a small green light would set itself aglow and Ellie would shoo away the random hopefuls who took advantage of her pause to ask if they were open and head inside. And so Ellie’s days started, sometimes the only change being the selection of a jacket or not, and this one was no different.

“Busy night already, Ells,” a solid wall of man casually mentioned when she got into the break room to put her backpack away. Barney was technically the night watchman for the Bank, a misleading title, since none of them actually seemed to do what their job descriptions said they did. Barney was more of a friendly bouncer, making sure that everything moved through the center properly. Ellie herself had signed a contract giving her the title of night dispatcher but she was really more of a receptionist and the last wave of crowd control. At least that’s what the military-grade taser under her desk made her. Barney didn’t carry one, having his own set of tools.

“Oh?” Ellie moved over to a bank of lockers, the grey metal kind found in seemingly every break room in America, and started carefully checking her reflection to make sure there weren’t any bugs stuck around her helmet line.

“The phone was ringing off the hook when I got here at 8:45.” Barney laid down the book he was currently reading and grinned up at Ellie, “I just made sure it stayed off the hook until we open.”

eggburgerwithcheese.org

Ooof. Tonight, I ate a giant cheeseburger with an egg on it and drank a couple beers and ate some onion rings and then we went to the cheap bookstore.

First of all, I cannot believe I ate that entire cheeseburger BUT I DID. I snarfed it the hell down. I guess that it’s okay since I just had a wee lunch and I hardly ever eat cheeseburgers. It’s just not something we do at home, you know? And then I had a Lucky Bucket Certified Evil (and a regular lager) to wash it all down and found myself slightly tipsy on this fine school night. Mr. Bffl pointed out that Certified Evil is 9.6% and I have cut back so I shouldn’t be shocked but, still. Gosh. I picked up some silly books at the cheap bookstore and I’m going to go read shortly-ish.

Now we’re kicking it on the couch and Mr. J is going through his dad’s chili cookbook (no lie) to see what recipe we want to use this weekend and I’m contemplating bed. Mmm, bed. Tomorrow is Friday and Friday is filled with glorious promise and today is Thursday, Friday’s neighbor, so it’s all good. Sure, work is work and I had this crazy little tickle in my throat this morning and…eh. Whatever. We are nearly there.

But, seriously. A BURGER WITH AN EGG ON. I know this is so not-clever that even Red Robin has caught on to it but, seriously, it was delicious. The finest cheezburger I’ve had in a while. Om nom nom.

go soak your head.

I didn’t actually soak my head, just my other bits, and feel like maybe you shouldn’t soak your head, either. My dearest darling is out to dinner with his boss and his boss’s boss and I am little-womaning it up at home. In fact, I am typing this on Mr. J’s computer because I’m too lazy to go downstairs and mess with my laptop, which is lazy indeed. So anyone who follows Mr. J on last.fm will be amused to see that I am straight up listening to Death Cab for Cutie and not signing out of his account. Take that, Jameson.

(Actually, a variety of sources will tell you that if anyone is merely “Jameson” in this household, it’s me, which is amusing in a number of ways.)

Nothing terribly eventful happened today. I went to work and survived. I went to the gym and discovered that I had left my water bottle and a sock at home, muddled through 15 minutes on the elliptical and then realized I hated the squench in my right shoe and gave it up. I came home, heard that I was dining alone, ate a glorious meal of pickles, soup and a sandwich and hopped into the tub for an hour to read.

I have no philosophical thoughts. I have been having an interesting discussion with a friend of mine about the aforementioned Death Cab for Cutie, during which it was mentioned that maybe certain albums are conducive to falling in love and springtime and that other ones are more for fall and being alone.

So what does it say about me that my favorites are always, always, always the ones for fall and being alone? Not that I haven’t always been a sucker for a sad, sad song. (See: Nick Hornsby, High Fidelity: What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?)

Also noteworthy, I’ve decided that I’m not going to come back to St. Louis for Radiohead. I don’t know. I told my bffl that it was nothing, I just wasn’t feeling it, but that’s not necessarily the truth. It’s not the entire truth, anyway, though it is a big part of the truth. It’s just that I always feel so drained after going to St. Louis for SOME BIG HUGE EVENT. I want the next time I come to St. Louis to be just for messin’ around with my friends, I think. And part of it is because my bones are settling for winter. I can’t help thinking that it’s going to be over before I know it, though, this season, at the rate things are going. Which is rare for me. Speaking of, it was supposed to snow last night and didn’t. It started at 3-5 inches and went down to under an inch of slush before not happening at all. That seems like a metaphor for something. A promising one, though.

(I could murder a cup of tea but, once again, the upstairs/downstairs issue comes up. Ah, well.)

Bonus feature!

Richard just made this especially for us so you can see how rad it is. : )

20111108-213621.jpg

[Look! It’s me! And my buddy, Richard! And we’re comics! I’m the foil. : )]

Life’s a lol.

I was actually made a comic book character today by a dear friend of mine, which is probably the most exciting thing that will happen to me. It’s over on Facebook but maybe I’ll see if I can get permission to post it here. It’s a pretty perfect representation of me. My friend has managed to capture my slightly-pudgy-but-still-cute-and-also-fairly-cool self well.

And he gave “me” a jacket with a Union Jack patch, which delighted me. His work is, in theory, at pulp21 but it mostly seems to be on Facebook. The strip was funny, too. Very tongue-in-cheek. And…well, funny.

So that’s most of the interesting things that happened today. Friend at work was okay, had almonds for my afternoon snack, worked some on Big Writerly Project. I stayed up way too late reading about Kate Middleton’s clothes but what are you gonna do?

(The answer is “go to bed, silly.”)

Big Writerly Project is a big review for playback that I’m working on. I know there’s some mystery to the way I keep talking about it but the reality is less cool. My bffl was really excited because he thought I was working on a book. Sigh. I can barely keep this stuff in the air. Anyway, it’s going well, I think. I may also have a regular review up for the readin’ this week, too. Tomorrow marks my triumphant return to the gym, as well.

Eye of the tiger, sweeties, eye of the tiger.

Monday, Monday, Monday

It is 7:30 and I am writing this on my phone from bed. Do not write column, do not work on Big Writerly Project, do not pass 7:15. Do drink tea and read in bed with cats.

The first workday day of DST always hits me like this. There are worse things and my editor was cool but it will be astounding if I’m up past 8:30.

And, worst of all? The closest snack place to my department at Ft Moo was out of bananas when I went to go get one this afternoon. : ( Total first world problem, not having time to go to one of the other snack shops but, damn. Totally had me off my game. And then one of my friends left work in tears without a word and that was worrying indeed.

Only one Monday a week, though, yeah?