Good... And Good for You

stuck in my head: "rock the casbah" reason 47 why it's important to never ever say to you boss "i guess i'll take off" on a friday at 1 o'clock and then when he asks why you're leaving so early you should never tell him the truth- "i don't have anything to do." i just got home from work, after re-filing our invoices from 1996-2002. i brought it upon myself.

the inner ebert won't be quelled either... i kind of have this theory that while in utero, i heard the muffled version of "raiders of the lost ark" and concluded that life outside might be worth living after all. my point? i have big movie love. an allegiance which results in my inability to stay silent when the cinematically ignorant express their opinions. a fondness for every genre. and a very high tolerance for off the wall, corn bally badness. so, please keep my big, geeky movie love in mind when i ask you: where have all the good movies gone? i've seen a lot of great rented, and foreign movies this past year, but i can't think of the last "in theater" movie i liked enough to go see more than once. and after seeing the sequels to "underworld" and "bruce almighty" being made, i'm wondering if we're going through some sort of sick, blockbuster dark age. ("garfield 2"? seriously??) until there's some sort of h...

the inner rooney will no longer be quelled... i'm not going to gloss over anything or filter myself today. and i'm not going to throw in a bunch of goofy, made up adjectives as per the norm. because i want to make this perfectly clear. i am surrounded by idiots. you could sit me down and point out how the people who surround me fit almost entirely into the 16-21 year old age bracket and so what do i expect? i might even be tempted to agree with you and quip that although i adore teenagers individually, you have to agree that as a group they're rather stupid (and then you would roll your eyes and say, "why do you always quote that mary poppins song. it's not that funny!... sometimes i think you're the idiot that surrounds me!" and i would probably draw myself up and look down my nose at you and say, "you know, while i adore you individually, as a group you 're rather stupid." and you'd start laughing and say, "that doesn't make ...

today, as i sit at my stupid desk staring at my stupid computer while stupid people ask me to do stupid things, i can't help but suspect that it would've been better for everyone involved if i 'd just stayed in bed.

last sunday, my grandfather gave me my birthday present and i can hear what you're all on the verge of commenting... "happy birthday! hooray! you're older! you're 25! you're a quarter of a century !" no. no i'm not. my birthday's in august, however my grandfather has a life (as in my life) long tradition of eccentricity. i'm sure the day i was born he went out and bought me a beautiful, top of the line crib... either that or a magazine about penguins. i personally can't remember that far back. but i know those are valid predictions, because... well, basically because those are two gifts i would want to give and guess who i inherited my randomness from. that's right. grandpa. as a young child, i was shy and inhibited and not quite sure how to deal with an old man who didn't treat me like all the other grown ups in my life did. "grandpa planned" excursions into the unknown made me wary because i never knew whether i'd end up...

i was called "ma'am" three times today. that's right. i was thrice "ma'am"ed. sigh... i hate provo.

our office manager is out of town until tuesday which of course means that i am the office manager until tuesday. i don't want to get into it. but as the "'til tuesday office gal", i just had the best phone conversation of my life... me: hello, **** chocolates. chick (teenagerish sounding): hi. this may be a stupid question but i was wondering if you could send me a free box of chocolates. me: um... are with any, like, um... just because? chick: ya. me: ... why? chick: because i want to give them to my dad for father's day and i'm broke. me: [stifled laughter] chick: sooo... me: i don't think we can do that. chick: ... me: sorry. chick: ... me: we mostly do our donations to the local hospital. and during the summer we really don't ship out our chocolate anyways. chica: [defeated] ok. me: [not very well stifled laughter] but good luck with that. -click-

i am not built for yoga. i have a natural turn out. if i "allign" my feet, my knees aren't happy. and a broken nose. pranayama is impossible. i'm freakishly long. way too long for the mat. i don't flex my feet, i point my toes. i don't want "to be", i want to be better than you. i don't want to let the movements come. i want my body to do what i tell it to. those thirteen years of dance have officially turned me into the ultimate anti-yogist. a high arched, highly competitive, body hating, "if it doesn't hurt, then you're not doing it right" anti-yogist. of course my progressively toned arms, the novelty, and the nap we get to take at the end of class kind of take the edge off.