It’s so damn hot…milk was a bad choice

I finally saw Anchorman for the first time last night, and suddenly all these quotes I’ve literally been hearing for years that I thought were mildly funny but didn’t get, are so much FUNNIER. I guess it’s another one of those movies that everyone had already seen that I just…didn’t.

so was this beard

This is how I  imagine all Texans complaining about the heat

My sister always gets mad at me for talking about stuff that I never got to do growing up because every so often I shift into martyred soul mode and regale her with all the times I haven’t been to Uno’s, or Chili’s; didn’t do this, didn’t do that, or whatever. A tiny, miniscule part of that may be my horrible memory, but I tell myself it’s probably just because it’s usually her fault–let it be known that growing up we also NEVER got pizza goldfish because she thought that was “gross.” A couple months ago I bought it when I was with her at the grocery store because now I’m Grown Up and totally in control of my own decisions. They were on sale and I only bought them to stick it to her (I know–don’t mess with me). I wish I could say revenge was tasty, but you were right, ma soeur. Pizza really isn’t the best flavor. Pretty sure I finished them anyway, though.

Such are the tales of a poor, misunderstood baby of the family. Still, there seem to be quite a few, gaping holes in my childhood that normal people I grew up with seem to have filled up. I was the one standing awkwardly to the side during school dances when the Cotton Eyed Joe came on (and I’d still be, today). I don’t know any of the N’sync songs except for “bye, bye, bye,” and by that I mean that one line, not the whole song. And now that I think about it, I probably wouldn’t understand any other major pop culture reference of the time–but now I overcompensate by religiously reading celebrity gossip–Kristen Stewart, how could you??  And while all my elementary school friends got ballroom dressed up for cotillion, I was so in the dark I thought they were talking about Gentile’s, the produce market nearby. Don’t worry though–I ended up learning the box dance steps from a Berenstain Bears book, so yeah, I think I’ve pretty much covered my ballroom dance education.

So instead of slipping on white gloves or singing with my hairbrush, I was more interested in reading Nancy Drew under the covers.  I was busy learning trying to fly with my best friend and one of our many imaginary friends, Tiny the tiny (shocker) fairy or building dinosaur nests out of leftover grass hay. I feel a sort of need to put a disclaimer here and say that yes, my best friend, at least was a real, living person whom everyone could see.

Just so you know, this Titanic victim's grave is in Halifax, Nova Scotia. They are in no way related to our family but judging by the flowers I presume it is Jack Dawson, but not the fictional Jack Dawson in the movie Titanic, which the girls who brought the flowers clearly did not know--but my father made sure to point it out to us. Yup.

Here I am with my sister at a Titanic victim’s grave. I have my hands clasped behind my back like an old tenured professor and I doubt I have never not been a dork in my entire life.

But in the end I turned out okay, right?

You stay classy, San Diego Thanks for stopping by, y’all.

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But seriously, I’ll pay you to pull the fire alarm

It is a horrible feeling to greatly anticipate something while simultaneously dread something else that needs to come before said event. Do you wish for it to come sooner and get everything over with? Or delay delay delay at all costs? After using some heavy duty bug spray in my room (you know it’s heavy duty because of the scary looking nozzle and obligatory exclamation mark on the can) I had dinner last night and halfway through began to worry I didn’t wash my hands well enough. The thought lingered long enough that I began to wonder how sick I had to get to be able to fly home straightaway while not so sick that I would hate myself being confined in a metal cylinder hurtling tens of thousands of feet through the air.

I didn’t get sick.

But in six hours this is all going to be over and even if the whole project that I have to present today bombs (I just checked—conclusion slides are still there!) it’s not going to matter that much. You see this is what everyone says, even me, to myself, but the fact of the matter is THAT DOES NOT HELP IN THE MOMENT when you are there, standing in front of everyone completely tongue-tied and wondering where that guy you paid to pull the fire alarm is.

This is the room I’ll be presenting in tomorrow. Looking at this in no way makes me want to freak out. I feel completely calm and am not worrying at all.

Just kidding y’all. It’s gonna be fine. No, really.

But seriously it will be.

YEAH.

Time to go pretend I’m not shy around these people and totally in control of my nerves and the Best Intern this account has ever seen.

I better get a trophy, or something.