I'm Self-Absorbed and I'm Lazy

(Psst. If you haven't downloaded Dios Malos' "Feels Good Being Somebody," from where the lyrics in my title originate, you are missing one of the better songs I've heard recently.)

Anyway, the reason I'm posting is to let you all know that I've let you down. This was a stressful week (see previous post), so I never did apply for my MTV/Rolling Stone internship. Looks like I'll have to weasel myself in the old-fashioned way...lots and lots of bribery.

The bright side is, now I'll be in North Dakota a little longer, which means more catfishing and possibly hiking. Watch the outdoorsperson in me shine!

Okay, seriously, I am a little mad that I didn't apply but this week did not allow for it and I'm too much of a procrastinator to really be all that surprised. The other side of the story is I did watch Team America: World Police, and I did work until 9:40 on Monday, and I did spend time researching for work on Wednesday night, and I had to (had!) watch 24 and The O.C. this week.

My Aching Feet

...and no, I wasn't barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.

Before I can tell you my aching feet story, I have to tell you my catfishing story.

On Easter Sunday, being the pagan I am, I did not have any plans to do much of anything. Although I did have a very nice offer from my boss to have dinner with him and his family. Not being much for hanging out with other people's family, I decided against that. But I overheard my co-worker/friend Pete was looking for a fishing buddy. Being that few of his friends are heathens, he was going to go alone. Instead, I invited myself.

I want to say I knew what I was in for. Pete and Brian had made it pretty clear that catfishing mostly was about sitting around drinking beer and watching the river go by. And occassionally checking your fishing line. I figured I could handle that.

After sitting around for about an hour and a half and having some very delightful conversation on how much someone would have to pay us to never again play our favorite albums, Pete had a snag. It was the kind of snag that led him to believe he had caught on to something, whether it was floating debris or a tiny fish or the big one, we didn't know. Anyway, not yet having a fishing license, all I could do was use the net to gather our catch. We had actually gotten a pretty big one, and being journalists our first instinct was to hope for a scale to determine exactly how big and thus report it back. Instead, all we can say is it's a pretty good size. Anyway, Pete can verify that I was pretty pale and horrified by capturing the slimy little guy. Still, as I am a meat eater, I figured I should know what goes into eating living things.

Then, we sat around for another hour and a half and ate sandwiches and discussed the early Christian Church (can you guess which one of us picked that topic?). And, once it started to get overcast and late in the day, we gave up with one fish in the bucket.

We smartly decided to walk back to Pete's car in our bare feet. Through a forest of thorns, and cockleburs. It was hell. If there was ever a good hazing task, it should be walking through that sort of debris. Oh god. (I was too tired to try to remove any splinters last night, which means I could barely walk this morning when I got out of bed. I then spent 20 minutes digging out at least five thorns. I know for sure that there is one I didn't get. I am thinking there could be more considering how much my feet still hurt. Wah.)

On the way back, Pete sort of confessed that he'd never actually scaled his own fish, so we did what every over-educated intellectual does, we googled it. Heaven help us, we learned how to get the meat off the fish from a Web site. I could not be there as Pete made sure the bugger was dead (and I won't get into what he had to do), and I don't think Pete liked it very much either. We didn't exactly have the right utencils so the scaling took longer than it should have. And we did this all over my kitchen floor. In the end, though, we did get two decent pieces of meat. Thankfully, we didn't eat it yesterday. I don't think either of us would have been hungry for fish after that debacle. (Thankfully, I was too grimy to take pictures of this part.)

I'm sure, except for the squeamish part, I would have made my grandad proud. He'd have been even prouder to know that I'm going to do it again. (But mostly for the beer and nice weather.)

Idiot

Why is Turnbow always on my bench when the Brewers manage to win? What on earth am I thinking?

In other baseball news, it'd be nice if Manny Ramirez could start earning points...as my first round draft pick he sure is sucking it big time.

Anyway, I'm going to continue watching baseball and wondering what's wrong with my life.

In case you're wondering...

1. (of 3) The tally is now up to three to one that I should go ahead and apply for this MTV show, and Nate sort of half gave his approval, which is almost four. Now the only question is where do I get a video camera on such short notice? (Seriously, how do I do this?)

2. Sometimes talking with people does help ease stress. Ranting to Nate about baseball relaxed me, and ranting to Pete about health insurance calmed me down. And of course ranting to Cindy about everything under the sun helped me to feel better about life. Now, all I need is a good book (have I mentioned that my new hero/mortal enemy is Chuck Klosterman?) and cartoons (have I mentioned that South Park knocks my socks off?).

3. Despite everything, I'm sticking by Barry Bonds. You can knock me if you like and I'd happily agree with you that the Giants Suck (next topic!) but Barry Baby is still my hero.

Good Night and Good Luck.

One remarkably satisfying comment and counting...

I've already had one comment that if there is that much rigamarole and it's all a beauty contest anyway, is that the whole damn thing is beneath me. I like that one. Anybody got anything better?

ADD and Indecision

So, in an effort to continue putting off preparing for my interview in the morning (and trying not to look at my fantasy league again, for the fifteen thousandth time), I have been ironing, watching 24, reading Rolling Stone online, and mostly debating whether or not I should enter their stupid contest.

MTV and Rolling Stone are partnering to have a show where you can compete to be a writer at Rolling Stone for a year. I'm sure the competition is tight and I'm sure in an MTV sort of way it will be much more dramatic on film than in real life, but it's about the only contest I've seriously considered applying for.

Here's the myriad of dilemmas:

1. It's on MTV and I'm not saying this so everyone can compliment me, but I am way too goofy-looking for national television, especially MTV where every girl looks like someone from the O.C. or Laguna Beach. Even on the Real World they had attractive girls.
2. The application is 11 pages long and asks me to say who my biggest influences are, and include clips shorter than 500 words (Do I even have any of those? I'm a wordy bastard!).
3. I have to send in a head shot and a full-length picture, which goes back to the fact that they are looking for way pretty people.
4. I have to do a 5-10 minute video tape of myself talking about myself. I am not good on film and I'll probably say "um" a lot and "I guess" and then I'll probably talk for 10 years. And where the hell am I going to get a video camera in the next week?

But I would like to work at Rolling Stone and win over Matt Taibbi. And what 24-year-old punk kid doesn't want to live in NYC for a short period of time, before she has to settle down, get married and move to the suburbs to have bratty kids who'll grow up and do the same?

Anyway, what's an awkward girl like me to do? Comments are welcome, as long as they are in by April 19, so I have time to actually submit my stuff, should anyone think it's a worthwhile venture. And maybe I'm too old to do this. I don't even care what's on MTV anymore.

Now, I feel old.

Well, to procrastinate more and show that I have an attention deficit problem some more, let's talk about, hmm, my baseball league: I'm too nervous to gloat and most of the time the anxiety isn't worth it, but less than two weeks into the season, I am in second place and (I think) holding strong. It's hard work. I find myself cheering for teams I actually want to lose because I need the points (damn you, Chris Reitsma, for making me cheer for the Braves tonight...but thank you for blowing it yesterday while you were on my bench and letting me get the win with Worrell). If nothing else, I think I'm making Nate and my brother proud. And annoying all of my co-workers. Do you think it's too late for me to become a color commentator for baseball? I do have a face for radio and a bizarre love of useless trivia.

And finally, I know I've ranted once before on it and I know I'm wayyyyyy behind the times on this one, but I LOVE Chuck Klosterman. Why did it take moving to North Dakota (and him being from here, and being a former Forum employee) for me to recognize that this guy is freakin' hilarious and so good at pop culture rants? I love it. I'm even reading about hair metal bands that I have no interest in and I love it. Watch out, Matt Taibbi, John Dickerson, Tim Dickinson, there's a new journalist in town that this girl loves. Oh my, I know way too many political writers; thank you, Mr. Klosterman for bringing me back in to the realm of pop culture writing.

Anyway, since I'm the only one who's entertained by my thoughts, I'm going to hop in the shower, then read more of my snazzy book, and then maybe I'll finish up with these questions (just kidding, dad, I (mostly) did my homework!).

Oh! And for those of you who love words, especially dirty ones, here's a fun article from Slate magazine for you: click here.

For the Record

Even if I am mostly a basket case, I still think I'm the coolest girl on the planet. Seriously. Consider this:

Right now, I'm listening to the Magnetic Fields, watching (via ESPN.com's GameCast) the Mets v. Marlins game and reading a book about heavy metal adoration. Oh, and yes, I am drinking a Killian's in case you doubted me. And for dinner, I had fake ribs and homemade mashed potatoes.

Perhaps I just have too much time in North Dakota. And maybe I'm just putting off finishing my taxes (since I've only messed up three times so far).

Anyway, back to the Mets and Fargo Rock City.

writing this one off

This has officially been the worst day I've had this year. It seems that absolutely nothing is meant to go right today, so in the spirit of that, I'm off to drink wine, watch a good movie, go on hating everyone, and eating a white-trash-comfort-food dinner.