Little Boxes

Yes, fair readers, I have officially bitten off more than I can chew. And I choked on it. When you do one too many things, you fail at all of them. And that? Is me.

So, I have been pushed by my overwhelming misery into a coma of inaction.  I finally bathed today.  But immediately got right back in my bed, where I am on my 38th consecutive episode of the only thing that is getting me through:



Not the drug itself, because I've never been one for illegal substances.  (Or legal ones - thank God I quit drinking 5 years ago, or I would've probably had my stomach pumped by now.)

I now believe this is the greatest show ever.  Well, maybe not ever because I do still love the Closer and Buffy just as much.  But, it is now in my top 5 of all time.  Watch it.  Love it.  Watch it some more.  The only bad thing about Weeds?  I'm done with the first 3 seasons, and there are only two more seasons and two episodes left until I'm caught up.  What am I going to do when I run out of Weeds??  Depressing.

Ah, coffee slurping, questionable sex having, well intentioned Nancy Botwin.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i8oVZiuk0r8

Minus the two kids, drug dealing, and dead ex-husband - I am living her life.  At least I'm not alone...



The theme song from this little marvel is SO. TRUE.  And sung by someone different each episode - everybody from the Shins to Donovan.  Can't embed them (damn the man!), but you can check a sampling out here:

http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=weeds+intro

Enjoy.  And if you have Netflix, go watch Weeds on instant download.  You won't be sorry.

Life in a Nutshell

It's been a rough few weeks.  It's also been a very long time since I've told a story with songs.  (Check out my first AND last attempt: http://stolensentiments.blogspot.com/2010/02/somebody-to-love.html).  So, instead of boring you with the details, I'll do what I do best and steal someone else's words to tell you (in no particular order) what's happened lately with relationships, exam results, work, and life in general.  Enjoy!  (If you don't listen to anything else, PLEASE watch the Disgruntled Employee Song.  Priceless...)

I Want Candy

Alright, alright.  I know.  I'm well aware of my shortcomings - specifically my inability to follow through on ANYTHING.  The Happiness Project? (See: Back in Black) Yeah... It's no more.  At least for now.  I had the epiphany that it was going to be damn-near impossible to embark on a year-long journey to a euphoric state of happy bliss when I am TOTALLY. UNBELIEVABLY. BURNT. OUT.  I think I probably need to deal with that before I dive in to life improvement, don't you?

So, I'm now undertaking Dr. Frank Lipman's (check out Spent? End Exhaustion and Feel Great Again)  6-week program to recover from the diabolical disorder he coined "Spent".  And ladies and gents, I AM SPENT.  Boy-howdy am I spent...

The Six-Week "Revive" Program entails the following:

• Week One: Nourish 
• Week Two: Move
• Week Three: Adapt 
• Week Four: Release 
• Week Five: Balance
• Week Six: Sustain 

Doesn't sound too hard, right?  (Well - except for that whole "moving" thing.  We all know how good I am at actually exercising...)  I would be more than thrilled to focus on rebuilding my immune system, learning to go to bed at a reasonable hour, and even moving my lazy ass from time to time, if weren't for one thing: in Lipman's mind, "Nourish" is synonymous with GIVING UP SUGAR.  And don't just mean giving up the half a bag of marshmallows I've historically (and regularly) consumed in one sitting.  I mean giving up ALL sugar.  Lipman suggests cooking hot muselix sans sweet and using agave syrup in place of white sugar, brown sugar, raw sugar, cane sugar, or basically all sugar of any kind. 

I think that's a load of horse-doody.  NO WAY am I going to be able to give up sugar completely.  But, I've resolved to come pretty damn close...  

Thank God I'm at least allowed to have fruit.  But people, in case you wondered, fruit is NOT a cookie.  It is NOT a piece of fudgy cake.  Nor is it a candy bar, a brownie, a handful of Pretzel M&Ms, or my most recent obsession - a thick, creamy milkshake.  It's fruit.  Boring, lame, unsatisfying fruit.  Sigh.

Lipman says that the first three days of the sugar detox are the worst.  I have headaches, lack of concentration, and hunger pangs to look forward to.  Joy.  But the person I feel the worst for isn't actually myself - it's  Boss-Man Jr., who made a surprise visit to work on some clients with me and Boss-Man Sr.  He gets to witness the hysteria and pure evil that are apparently going to start spewing out of me in about T-minus-12 hours.  Poor, poor BMJ.  I've already preemptively apologized for anything I might do or say during his short visit to the Sunny South.  Let's hope I don't get fired... 

Well kids, off to make some appetite suppressant tea and watch Brenda Leigh - another woman who knows the pain of sugar withdrawal. God love her.

If I survive Day One, I'll regale you with my Trash Talkin' about Saved by the Bell's extraordinarily unrealistic and age-inappropriate relationships.  I know you can't wait.  

Hasta,  

SS 

Fire

So, this happened today, 5 miles from my house:



  

 



Miraculously - and PRAISE GOD - only one person was killed (2 others are critically injured).  It's incredibly amazing that the cars behind this horrific accident didn't create a bajillion-car pile-up.  I can't promise you I wouldn't have run into all the people in front of me if I'd seen an oil tanker explode, producing a nuclear-bomb-sized cloud of black smoke and flames hot enough to melt the asphalt.  Kudos to you, metro-area drivers, for keeping your cool in a very, very scary situation.

Unfortunately, I averaged a speed of 15 mph all the way home, and missed the Secret Life of the American Teenager.  What a cluster...

Trash Talk - Tuesday

(Yes, I know it's Thursday.  But to be fair, I started this entry on Tuesday.)

Why hello there, loyal readers!  Yes, I know I have not kept true to my word about updating all the time but, what can I say?  Life is crazy!!  I took the MPRE on Friday (which was much harder than I thought it would be, so I need extra fingers and toes crossed on my behalf), and I went to the beach this weekend with Deac, his cousin, and his cousin's wife.  Not my best beach weekend experience - in part because the Outer Banks No-See-Ems decided to use me as an all-you-can-eat buffet.  Inspired by Hyperbole and a Half, I decided to draw you guys a picture of my misery so that you might, perhaps, share in it with me (because misery certainly does love company!):

So now I'm back at home and at work, trying not to rip the flesh off of my body for the itching.  At least I got to move seats now so I'm not in a fishbowl anymore, and I can blog on my lunch break!  Hooray!  And now that I've gotten your skin empathetically crawling, I shall move on to today's true Trash Talk topic (say that three times fast!):

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OPINIONS AHEAD. 

PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

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Let me be clear here, though.  I LOOOOOVE The Closer.  Seriously LOVE it.  It's one of my most favoritest shows ever.  But it's the topic of Trash Talk this week because there IS something about it that bugs me.

Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson (the lovely and talented Kyra Sedgwick) is a homicide detective in LA who hails from the ATL.  To be specific, she's from Roswell, GA - a suburb of Atlanta.  Who else lived in Roswell?  Yep - that would be yours truly.  Brenda's ridiculously southern accent does prove to be a major part of her charm, but - hate to break it to you - people from Atlanta really don't talk like that.  I spent 23 of my 31 years (and the most formidable 23 at that) in ATL 'burbs, and I have been told that I have no discernible accent.  None.  Sure, every now and then I'll say something that gives my (proud) southern heritage away, but I definitely don't come off as a hick.  Neither do my parents or siblings.

Atlanta is a varietal cornucopia of cultures, and is one of the most diverse cities in the country.  There are a crap-ton of relos (relocated persons) in the city and suburbs, which has contributed to the obliteration of the stereotypical redneck accent that is rumored to permeate the metropolis.

Note - I am NOT speaking for the rest of the state of Georgia (which is FILLED with "My Name is Earl-esque characters); I am just talking about the City of Atlanta, and the Atlanta-Metro area (which has a radius of roughly 100 miles).  

Roswell is only about 15 minutes from downtown, and borders the swanky suburbs of Dunwoody and Buckhead - the height of class in the ATL.  No hicks in sight. I know that, if you go way out to the outskirts of Roswell, you may find a heavy accent or two, but it's not the norm these days.  Brenda isn't old enough to have developed that accent as a result of growing up in Roswell (especially if she lived in the area where she would've been zoned to Roswell High School - which she states in the season 3 finale that she was).  So, the show gets the stink-eye from me for perpetuating the myth that Atlantans are hicks (and implying that southerners are slow and stupid - which is ironic, considering Brenda is actually a frickin' genius and mastermind of criminal justice).  If they wanted to do that, they should've written her character so that she was from Macon, or Millegeville, or Snellville or something.

End rant.

Oh - if you're not a Closer fan, or have no idea what I'm talking about, watch the following clips.  They should give you an idea.  And, friends and followers from the ATL - let me know if you agree with my assessment.  (Sorry - for some reason, embedding is disabled on all "The Closer" clips on YouTube.  Lame!)

Crazy Bride Scene
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aSxTzm-EScQ&feature=related

Lt. Provenza Mimics Brenda (VERY funny):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9-F4Gwor1ao

(Sorry my posts kind of suck these days, by the way.  I'm trying to get back in the groove.  A month-long blogging hiatus has a way of stealing your muse and putting up quite the writer's block.  Don't give up on me yet, though.  I promise to tell you when it's hopeless and you can stop reading...)

Tell Me Why - Wednesday

Yep - It's another Wednesday.  And, yet again, I'm confused.  La pregunta del dia is: WHY AM I STILL AWAKE???  I'm supposed to be working on my energy level this month as part of my Happiness Project, but I haven't exactly been following the Project guidelines.  This month they are: 

1. GO TO BED at a decent hour (like 10:30) 
2. GET OUT OF BED at a decent hour (like 6:30) 
3. Exercise - not every day for hours, but a doable 4x/week for 20 minutes. 
4. Take a multivitamin.  

Well, it's the 4th.  How many of those things have done? Even once this month?  NONE.  

I have a ton of work to do, a test to study for, a house to clean, and a trip for which I need to pack (LOOOONG overdue beach weekend with Deac - to celebrate the end of these miserable exams).  Despite this freakishly long list of chores, I am sitting on my couch, blogging to you, and watching Y&R.  I am too tired to do stuff, so I should go to bed and get a fresh, early start tomorrow, right?  

Which brings me back to my original question - WHY AM I STILL UP???  

I need to go to bed... 

(Thanks again to Hyperbole and a Half - my favorite blog of the day - for letting me steal (without permission)  brilliant drawings.)  

I'm Just a Kid (and Life is a Nightmare)

Here I go again, referring you to other blogs.  I've been trying to catch up on some of my favorites (since I not only banned myself from my own blog for the duration of Studypalooza, but from all others I love as well) and I came across this most priceless entry from Hyperbole and a Half.  Check it out.  You won't be disappointed (and you may even understand me just a little bit better): 


http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/06/this-is-why-ill-never-be-adult.html





I intend to produce my own work of genius (or at least lackluster mediocrity) later tonight.  Stay tuned. 

Back In Black

Yep, that's right!  I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaacccccccccccckkkkkkkk!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I know you guys missed me terribly, and please know how much I've missed you!  Some of you (well, some of those of you who might actually still follow my lonely little blog after my month-long hiatus, that is) may remember that I just undertook the miserable feat of sitting for the DREADED...

...wait for it...

Can't promise anyone that I passed (especially in light of my prior academic glory - see: Trash Talk Tuesday), but, I DID survive.  That's something, right?

 I have the Multistate Professional Responsibility Exam this Friday, and then I'm done with this crap - hopefully forever. I will find out the results of the bar, the MPRE, and the last section of the CPA exam on roughly the same day (somewhere around August 28).  So, stay tuned - at least for the end of the month. It will either be an AMAZING day, or an incredibly shitty one...

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In the meantime, I'm starting a new project.  For the next 12 months I present to you an incredibly exciting (though unoriginal) self-improvement project - the Happiness Project (stolen from the book of the same name).  Much like the author of this charming memoir, Gretchen Rubin, I will focus on a different shortcoming or goal each month and strive to improve my life, and thereby increase my happiness, by making changes in that particular area.  A sneak preview - August, Month 1, will center on energy.  More details to come...

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Alright happy people, I am off to bed.  Back to work tomorrow after my 30-day unpaid leave of absence/Studying Extravaganza.  Ugh...

But, before I go, a salute to all the people and things that got me through one HELLUVAN exam: 

• The fine folks at MicroMash and Bar in a Flash.  Love those guys!
• Microsoft OneNote 
• My dear friend Senor P - for sneaking me those PMBR lectures.  They saved my butt!
• The nut jobs that dreamed up this gem: 

• Law & Order SVU and the Closer.  (Win the Emmy, Kyra!!) 
• My now ex-Roomie - the Intern. 
• Deac, especially for my delicious celebratory dinner last night. 
• AC/DC
• This song: 

• This cereal: 

• My wrist-brace, Bengay, and BioFreeze. 
• My laptop, which functioned ALL the way through the race that is the state essay portion. 
• My dear friend Professor E. 
• A lot of prayers from all around. 
• The spacious suite at my ghetto hotel at the test-site, and the delicious salad at the restaurant next door.
• The view of the horse park that made me want a pony. 
• Coffee and Adderall. 
• This cat: 

• My bed. 
• And last - but absolutely not least since I'd probably be dead or in a padded cell right now without them - everyone out there who believed in me.  You know who you are. 

All of my love and devotion to all of the above.  You truly are my Sunshine.  

LAY-TUH!