Unlucky #7

Seven is no longer considered a lucky number for me. Not when the scales moved up seven pounds in five days. How much Halloween candy could I have possibly eaten?

Since it's such a beautiful day, I packed my tennis shoes and walked around the Center of Learning at lunch. I don't think I walked off seven pounds, but I did see some interesting characters.

I'm stopping by to see Huey, Dewie and Louie's Halloween garb before heading to Little Rock, so I'll be posting some pics later. And hopefully Taylor will remember to send me pics of his bro and sis as well.

I'm already tasting the lettuce wraps at P.F. Chang's... yum!

Scrub the Floors, Cindarelly

I've been cleaning the ol' casa for three and a half hours. I just don't understand how I accumulated so much filth. I live alone. I'm reasonably neat. How is my place so messy? I vacuumed up five pounds of hair... part of it mine, part of it the cat's. Granted, hair loss runs in the family, but unlike my dad and my brother, mine seems to grow back.

Now I'm watching Barely Manenough sing "Mandy" on "Dancing with the Stars." That's actually a good song. Barely looks like he's had almost as much work as Wayne Newton.

And allegedly Sabrina Bryan's departure on "Dancing" is the biggest shock ever (kinda like "the most dramatic rose ceremony ever" every week on "The Bachelor.") I for one am happy not to have to hear anymore adjectives like "cheetalicious."

I'm excited about tomorrow 'cause I'm meeting my friends Joe and Estella in Little Rock for dinner at PF Chang's then shopping at Williams Sonoma and the Fresh Market (my two favorite stores). I'm also hoping that the kids from the child center eat all of the Halloween candy I've been stuffing my face with at the office when they trick-or-treat in the morning.

Wow. I just realized how very random this whole entry is. Sorry... I'm exhausted from the hair extraction.

So, what's everyone going to be for Halloween? Hope's going as her favorite movie character, "Cindawewa."

It's a scary, scary world

Don't mean to steal Jen's thunder (I assumed she'd post these by now), but these are some pretty scary Halloween pics. Memaw's evidently been influenced by her work, and Peep was dressed as a gynocologist. Enjoy!

The end of Redbeard

Evidently Cousin Matt can now shave. He scored the winning touchdown in the Jags come-from-behind win over the Bucs last night.

Here's your sign

So I called my dad a few minutes ago and told him that I'd just left the best football game I've ever seen in person, and he said, "The Ohio State game?" Yes, Dad. I jetted to Columbus right after working this afternoon for the OSU/PSU game.... Here's your sign (sorry for sharing, Dad, that just made me laugh).

The Bears just pulled out an amazing win, 49-42 in overtime. Granted, it was a bad night for the defense (or T'Fez, as they say at Ho'net games), but I'm exhausted and hoarse from screaming. We were behind 14 points in the 4th quarter, scored 21 straight to go ahead 42-35 with 1:27 to go in the game, and we let them score in less than a minute. So overtime. We got the ball first and scored a touchdown and extra point. Nicholls State (#19 in the country), ran two plays for pretty significant gains, then the QB pitched to the tailback, who dropped the shovel pass and we fell on it. Victory! I'm sure those peeps who left when we were down two TDs feel pretty stupid right about now.

It was one of those games that it's a shame someone has to lose. But if someone does, I'm glad it wasn't us.

At halftime, they had a contest where they pulled a guy's name, and he had the chance to win a car by throwing a 35-yard pass into the open window of the car in the endzone. That never happens, right? He did it. Evidently he's a college kid who never played football and rumor has it he'd been enjoying the tailgating a bit too much and was really... let's just say, relaxed when he threw it. After he made it in the car, the stands erupted in cheers, and he ran around the field like a crazy person.

Not a bad day at work.

It's beginning to look a lot like... autumn

Although I'd grown quite sick of the rain, the crisp fall air that followed was quite welcome. Last weekend I got to perform my annual fall acknowledgement ritual, wearing a sweatshirt to a football game. And today, one of our student orgs had a chili cookoff in the room across from the office, and the building smelled like chili all day. I'm not quite sure what it is about autumn, but when the first leaf falls, I feel the need to put on a turtleneck and grate some cheese for a bowl of chili.

Today was the first day since I've lived in Conway that it felt too cold to get out of bed, so I snuggled under my down comforter after hitting the snooze button twice. My standard morning routine includes standing in the shower, washing my hair (you're welcome for the visual, by the way) while mentally trying to decide what to wear to work. This morning I realized that it was time for long sleeves and socks, so I perused my closet for a yummy turtleneck. Then I realized that all of my winter shoes were still in boxes.

I also realized, during one of my many daydreams at work, that there were only two paydays left 'til Christmas. So I made a budget and a list. And I realized that I have no ideas for presents. So now I'm stressed.

And I'm trying to decide what's on my list. Aside from my major wishes--world peace, Super Bowl ring for the Cowboys, and another kid for Brangelina--I'm at a loss. Granted, I'm lusting for an iPhone, but I don't think all of my gift givers put together can afford that. One of my coworkers just bought one, and she let me play with it today. Oh, how my heart longs for an iPhone.

It occurs to me that there's nothing that I need, and little that I want. I usually buy anything that I really want. And that makes me a lucky little brat.

Ok, all of you avid readers. What's on your Christmas list? While I wait for your response, I think I'll watch "The Office" and smell my new caramel wallflower from Bath & Body Works. Smells like fall!

If you are obsessed with "The Office"....

Okay, all of you Dwight Shrute fans. Check this out...

Aren't those chin straps itchy?

In anticipation of tonight's AFC showdown between the reigning Super Bowl champion Colts and the only once-defeated Jags, I submit to you yet another reason why everyone thinks my family is so weird.

Seems that third cousin Matt, far removed branch on the family tree, former Razorback standout and first-round draft pick, who started for the Jaguars in his first two seasons and is now coming in off the bench, has refused to shave until he catches his first TD pass this season. ESPN commented that, since he's playing Indy tonight, he might look like Moses soon.

Either way, Redbeard should make for a good Halloween costume. Or maybe he's looking to make a longer comb over.

The blonde baker

The following photo comes to me from my pal Brent, who got it from someone he knows in Little Rock. Evidently Suzanne, one of his friend's coworkers, was leaving her position and her manager called to order her a goodbye cake from one of the Wal-Marts in LR. He told them to put "Best wishes Suzanne" and underneath that "We will miss you." When they went to pick up the cake, this is what they got.



They thought it was so funny, they kept the cake.

Football and Dwight P. Shrute

For the third weekend in a row, I've been very unproductive. This weekend, however, I did manage to make it out of the house. I got up at the crack o' dawn yesterday to go watch Brady play football. His team's really good; they're undefeated, and yesterday they played the other premier team in the league, and ended in a 18-18 tie.

Here's a video from yesterday. Brady's the QB (#7), and I call to your attention the flagrant and very illegal tackling by the other team.

Other than that, I've watched a lot of football (hooray for the Hogs, Pats and Cowboys) and the entire second season of "The Office" thanks to Lonnie who loaned me seasons two and three. That show makes me laugh out loud.

It's Homecoming week, so we get to wear jeans to work on Tuesday due to "Paint the Town Purple." How very sad that's the most exciting thing I have to report.

86 minutes 'til quitting time

Is boredom a communicable disease? It appears to be contagious and hard to cure.

This week marks my first experience with fall break. Granted, only the faculty and students enjoy the two-day hiatius (turned into two and-a-half days in reality), but still, it's been 48 hours of easy parking and no phone calls. And unbelievable boredom.

Wednesday afternoon stretched on for what seemed like days. A person can only surf the web for so long. But finally it was time to go home. So I hit the gym for my third day of running. And I paid for it.

I woke up yesterday with a horrible headache and a sore back, so I took some meds and went back to sleep. I knew I wasn't going to miss anything at the office.

And now I'm trying to endure this dullsville day. But thankfully we get to go home at 2 p.m.

I remember my days in Fort Smith of 16 hours worth of work and not enough time to do it in. There's gotta be a happy medium job somewhere.

Ouch

I am 100 years old. After a 14-day hiatus and a 1.6 lb. weight gain, I reluctantly returned to the gym yesterday. So, 30 minute run yesterday, 30 minute run today... that's one hour of regretting all of the 7-layer burritos and Ben & Jerry's from the past two weeks. And now, my body hurts so bad I wonder if I'll be able to get out of bed tomorrow. How do people run marathons? Is it really possible to live after so much exercise? My calves are killing me. My thighs hurt. I remember running line drills in high school during conditioning, but I don't remember being this sore afterward.

I am old and out of shape. But I shall persevere.

Skinny jeans by Christmas. Or die trying.

Idiot, party of one

As you may recall, I've gone two months without a car payment. That's 60 days of waiting for the first major mechanical problem that would incur a huge bill or necessitate purchasing a new car. For the first time in my life, I'm devoid of new car envy. As I cruise down the street and see a woman in a shiny new BMW, my first thought is no longer, "Her car is cooler than mine," but rather, "Man, I'd hate to have that payment." I've matured so much in my old age. And my five-year-old, paid-for TrailBlazer is looking pretty good to me right now.

But still, the moment that I wrote that final check, I just knew something would go wrong... engine failure, transmission explosion, leaking oil.... so imagine my dismay when, last Friday, my "check engine soon" light came on.

Keep in mind that, although I watch SportsCenter daily and like to hold the remote, my testosterone stops when it comes to anything mechanical. In high school, when they made the entire class take the ASVAB, my mechanics score was less than 40. Really. It's for things like this that I will someday get married. I can see me, at the altar, and someone in the congregation leans over to one of my friends and says, "What's their story? Was it love at first sight? Did he sweep her off her feet?" Friend replies, "Nope. He changed her oil and squashed a bug."

I realize this morning that my oil gauge is a bit sporadic and I haven't changed the oil since April (in my defense, that's only 5,000 miles). So I stopped to get a change at lunch hoping that would cure my "check engine" issue. Not only did my oil need to be changed, they had to add two extra quarts (oops) and change my really gross air filter. So I'm down 72 bucks and confident that my light will no longer be on.

Wrong. It's still on. Seriously, I can't afford a $500 car issue. So, with trepidation, I stop to get gas after work and I realize that (wait for it...) my gas cap was loose. And when I tightened it, the "check engine" light went off.

I am an idiot. Mostly because I'm the girl who's actually taken this very vehicle in for service and the mechanic, trying not to laugh, had to inform me that my gas cap was loose.

But at least it wasn't an expensive problem. And I don't have to change my oil 'til '08.

What is it they say about rainy days and Mondays?

Sick of being sick

Another weekend, another 48 hours of feeling like poo. I'm really sick of being sick, but as my pal Alisa said, " 'tis the season." So I've been in the bed/on the couch since Friday night. And neither the Hog game nor the Cowboys game did much to make me feel better.

Taylor informed me that I shouldn't be too bummed about the Pats/Cowboys since I like both teams. He, on the other hand, hates the Pats, so he's upset. I told him that he'd have to learn to like New England when Tom Brady becomes his uncle, and he's assured me that, should that happen, he'll work on it.

This is going to be a strange week at work. My boss left around 11 a.m. on Friday for good, and my new boss isn't planning to be in the office 'til next week, so this will be a long five days, especially since Thursday and Friday are fall break and I seem to be the only person planning to work. At least I won't have trouble finding a parking place.

Why pageants have a bad name...

It's not just Donald Trump. Here we have another glaring reason why people make fun of pageant girls.

It's gonna be a lovely day

Do you ever just get up and know it's going to be a good day?

My dad woke me up at 7 a.m. (and I was actually grateful, since I forgot to set my alarm) to tell me that the Bears were #1 on SportsCenter's top 10. Our offense looked unstoppable last night.

And my good pal Ashley is preggers! I'm keeping my fingers crossed for a girl, since Larry Jr. Jr. probably would not look good in pink.

Hooray for Friday! It's gonna be a lovely day.

Happy birthday, Lon!

Let us pause briefly and celebrate the anniversary of the birth of my beloved cousin, Lonnie. We're only two-and-a-half years apart and grew up in the same small town, so he's more like a brother than a cousin, since brothers usually hold you under the covers and fart and generally drive you nuts. But I love him. Even more than that, I love aggravating him.

This is Lon's mom, Kathy (striped shirt); my mom, Donna (John Lennon look-alike); our cousin, Brent (striped shirt); me (unfortunate yellow pants and non-matching shirt); and Lonnie (why is he gripping a doll? Manly!)



Here we are a few years later. My hair has some serious 80s side wing action.

How 'bout them Bears?!?

Is anyone else watching the UCA game? Nathan Brown has SIX TD passes in the first half. Good gravy, our offense looks unstoppable. Yay for Coach Cooley.

GO BEARS!

Testing 1, 2, 3

I have a couple of recurring college-related dreams. In one, I oversleep and miss a final exam during my senior year and am unable to graduate. In the other, I sit down to take an exam and realize that the entire test is written in some foreign language and I can't understand a word of it.

Today I took such a test.

My plan was to sleep in a bit so that I'd be nice and rested for my marathon exam. The reality was that I stayed awake last night worrying about it and woke up again before 6 a.m. to fret some more. So I decided to take matters into my own hands and, since the disc with the practice exams that I got in the mail yesterday only works on a PC (there were three computers in my house, none of them a pc), I ventured to the office before daylight to commandeer a non-Mac.

After my first of three trips to Starbucks today, I came back to the house to find that the battery in the newly acquired computer was dead, and the powercord was nowhere in the bag. Bummer. So I opened up my study guide and feverishly tried to cram two months' of studying into two hours. My stress escalates.

I leave my house in plenty of time for Starbucks run #2 and to make sure I can find the testing center. I arrive 30 minutes early with ID in hand and sign in, where they make me lock up my very expensive Coach purse in a locker and show me to a computer.

After breezing through the extremely detailed instructions (i.e., how to use a mouse and how to scroll), I begin the exam. First question was an essay, which I write with relative ease. Second question, a persuasive paragraph of which I'm supposed to critique the effectiveness of the argument. Piece o' cake.

Then I move on to math and verbal. Uh oh.

In taking the practice tests, I felt confident in about 70 to 80 percent of the questions. When I took the ACT in high school, I could narrow down even the most difficult of questions to two answers. Today I guessed on at least 80 percent of the math questions.

An example: If x<0 and y>0, and s=t, what is the value of x/s? I've literally lost the will to live.... I guess B.

Next question is a paragraph that's about 14 sentences long and there's a diagram of four triangles with values and I'm supposed to compare the surface area to the circumference of the circle in the left quadrant. I realize that I could figure it out in about 20 minutes, but I only have 24 minutes left to answer 20 questions. I guess B.

The GRE exam is designed in such a way that the questions get more difficult if you answer the question correctly and less difficult if you answer the question incorrectly. That's how they determine your score. And halfway through the quantitative portion I'm questioning how I passed fifth grade math, my head is throbbing, and I'm guessing B over and over. And the questions aren't getting any easier, so I suppose I'm either guessing really well or my ability to reason has been compromised by my Starbucks high and the glare of the computer screen. I'm humming the theme song to "I Dream of Jeannie" for some reason.

After that torture is finally over and I stumble my way through the verbal portion of the exam by guessing on 40 percent of the questions, I reach the end. The computer asks me if I want my test scored. See, you can cancel at that point and no one will ever know how you did, including you. But I figure, hey... what the heck. I spent the 140 bucks and took a vacation day to learn just how stupid I am, so let's see the score.

I wait for the message, "You are too stupid to function." But surprisingly enough, I did okay. I won't be getting any scholarship offers from Harvard or anything, but I scored higher than the minimum at most graduate schools. So I guess everyone else is stupid, too.

Game over, we have a winner.

And on a much lighter note, after a celebratory Starbucks run, I stopped by my pal Brent's for his surprise 40th birthday party. Here we are. Between the two of us, we've lost 130 pounds. That's a whole person. Or two people in Hollywood.

It's test time!

It's always challenging to decide what to write on this thing. When I write about sports, my gal pals want to read something more personal. When I write something heartfelt, my relatives want to talk about football. But all I know to do is write what's on my mind at the time.

Tonight I'm freaking out about taking the GRE tomorrow. Today was super busy at the office, so I didn't get to spend the day studying like I planned to. But the good news is that I got a major project done today. And the better news is that I have the whole day off tomorrow. So hopefully I can sleep in just a bit (Dad.. don't call me before 8 a.m.) and then I'm headed to the Rock to spend some time studying before my test. There will be Starbucks. And not the fat-free kind.

Everyone say a prayer at noon. And please continue to pray for four continuous hours.

Ride 'em, Cowboys!

I was on my third cup of coffee before 8 a.m. this morning. Why? Because I was woken up not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES last night, and I'm very sleepy.

After a nice dinner at Mike's last night to commemorate my boss' last week, I headed home to settle in for a good, old fashioned butt whoopin' of the Bills. Um, that didn't happen.

Romo threw four INTs before half (two of which were ran back for TDs), and the undefeated Cowboys appeared to be caught looking ahead to next week's showdown with the Pats. So when the Bills went ahead 24-14, I gave up and went to sleep.

My pal Ryan called at 11 p.m. to talk some smack about the "Cowgirls" (his term). His glee was short-lived as the impossible happened... on-side kick and not one but TWO 50+ yard field goals made to win the game for America's team.

One of the bloggers on si.com called it the "greatest regular season game I've ever seen." I don't know about that. Exciting? Yes. The sloppiest game that the winning team didn't deserve to claim? Perhaps. The #1 play on SportsCenter's top 10? Absolutely. But the best game ever? Doubtful. The best game would infer that someone deserved to win. Last night's game was a showcase of who wanted to give away the game more... the Cowboys who had six turnovers, or the Bills, who only had three offensive points.

We'll take the "W." And deserved or not, the 'Boys are 5-0 for the first time in over two decades.

So I finally got back to sleep after midnight. The cat woke me up for attention (and subsequently being thrown off the bed) at 3 a.m., at which time I reset my alarm for 7 a.m. My dad called at 6:35 a.m. to talk about the game.

See, I do dearly love my Cowboys, but let's talk about it when I'm awake, okay?

And for those of you waiting for my "Bachelor" reviews, my apologies. Monday night's when my testosterone leaks out and I trade giggling girls for bumbling commentators. Sorry, Emmitt. Perhaps you should stick to the paso doble.

20 years from now...

The other day I was cleaning out my garage when I ran across an essay I'd written when I was 13 about where I imagined myself in 20 years. It's been 22 years and I've accomplished nothing on my list. Oh, I've accomplished other things, but nothing I wanted back then. My list:

1. Become an opthamologist. (This was because I knew my opthamologist made about $1 million a year. I didn't consider that I was bad at science, or that blood made me nauseous.)
2. Marry a nice Christian boy. (Haven't come close; even with a not nice, non-Christian boy.)
3. Have two or three kids. (Hardly possible considering I haven't even kissed a guy in five years.)

So I don't have a medical degree, but I do have an advanced degree, and people will call me Doctor in the next five years. And I don't have a husband or kids, but I can spend as much as I want on shoes and my brother and cousin loan me their kids anytime I feel maternal urges... which the kids quickly squelch.

What I do have.... amazing friends, wonderful family, and a good job that I really enjoy. So I feel pretty darned lucky. Especially since the 4-0 Cowboys are on MNF. Life is good.

Upset much?

And that's why we watch college football, ladies and gentlemen. Upsets. Underdogs. Watching the mighty fall. But this year has been more exciting than most.

Michigan v. Appalachian State, anyone?

I stayed up late last night watching the LSU v. Florida game, then I finally went to bed when I realized that, since they're both equally distasteful in my book, I really didn't care who won. Were Spurrier still at Florida, that would tip the scales pretty far in the Gators favor on the ick-o-meter, but alas, I'm relegated to rooting against the Gamecocks now.

Speaking of disliked visor-wearing coaches and "big" games that I found it hard to pick someone to root for... I also wasted a few hours watching OU v. Texas. How can any self-respecting Razorback fan cheer for either of these teams? Not only are they vastly overrated (see Colorado and Kansas State), but their fans are fanatical to the point of castration. I'm so sick of hearing SEC v. Big XII comparisons, too. Anyone remember Jason White? I'm pretty sure he's now delivering furniture for his uncle, not playing in the NFL.

And the much-overhyped USC Trojans got beat by Stanford. Stanford... where your SAT score is more important than your 40 time. How many professional football players went to Stanford? How many Heisman trophy winners have they had?

So it will be a case of fruitbasket turnover in the rankings again. And the Hogs will still be left out because they barely got by the lowly Chattanooga Mocs (what the heck is a Moc?). And they suck.

Whose bandwagon should we jump on now?!?

2+2=5?

I like to think I have a mathematical mind. I won a geometry contest in the tenth grade at a district competition. I tested out of College Algebra and made an "A" in calculus (granted, it was Business Cal and not Calculus I, but still). Many have marveled at my ability to do addition in my head. I am logical. Math is logic. So I should be good in math, right? My dad was, after all, a math teacher in his former life, so I must have gotten the math gene. And I do have a master's degree. Less than 10 percent of America's population has an advanced degree, so I must be smarter than average. Wow, I am feeling good about myself.

Granted, I managed to make it through said master's degree without having taken the GRE, so there really was no assessment of my skill except my perfect post-baccalaureate grade point average. But I still consider myself, the 4.0 master's degree student, pretty darn smart.

So when I found out that I would have to take the GRE and my score would be a primary determinant of entry into my PhD program, I found the most stressful thing the 140 bucks I'd have to shell out to take the test. Remember, I am a genius.

What's on the test? Vocabulary, of which I am a master. Analogies... ditto. Math... I made an "A" in calculus, remember? I did derivatives with the best of them.

Still, to be on the safe side, I did purchase a "prepare for the GRE quickly" book just to brush up. And tonight, while sitting at a college fair in Little Rock, I got to the math portion of the test preparation booklet. The section introduction discussed how the test doesn't employ calculus or trigonometry, but rather seventh- and eighth-grade math. Piece of cake, right? I made "A"s in those classes. I made a 28 on my ACT. I am brilliant.

I know the difference among mean, median, and mode, so I cruised through that section. I know how to multiply fractions. I know what square roots are. On to page two.... isosceles triangles? Pythagorean theorem? What the heck... those are terms I've heard, but have no idea how they apply to me. Nor do I remember a darn thing about geometry save right triangles. What does this have to do with life? Today I had to complete a travel requisition; if I go on a 60-mile trip and get $0.43 a mile, how much is that? Wait... get out my calculator.

I am a mathematical idiot. Use it or lose it, I suppose.

Please pray for me. I have to take that stupid test in six days.

Dancing with the relatively famous

One of the things that always amazes me about "Dancing with the Stars" is how the really bad dancers with really big fan bases (i.e., Billy Ray Cyrus) often advance in the compeition while the superior albeit lesser knowns often get sent packing. Explain to me how the heck Wayne "my face is stretched more than my limo" Newton is still in the competition while the lovely and talented Albert Reed got sent home. Hmmm?!? Guess all those grannies figured out how to phone in last night and saved Mr. Las Vegas. Ick.

My pal Alisa and I had a super early dinner at 3:30 at Mike's Place (seafood crepes... yum!), then I picked up Maggie's cookies for our information session at work tonight. We have 10 spots open; there were nearly 60 people there. Yikes!

Guess that's all. I'm sleepy and still upset over Albert not getting to wear his shirt unbuttoned to his navel anymore. Sad times.