Almost Famous

First of all, I have to address an old post. It seems my little blog about pre-conception and what a joke it is has inspired a multitude of comments. I can't say I'm all that surprised, since next to the death penalty a woman's uterus is something that everyone has an opinion about. Anyway, I'm all for hosting this blog as a forum for debate but to those of you who disagree with my pro-choice lifestyle: no one ever got very far with changing my opinion by calling me a slut. You have every right to disagree with me, but I am certainly not going to be posting comments that offer no legitimate argument other than to call me names. To sum up, sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. To those of you who agreed with me, either in email or through a post, thanks for justifying my ranting. Next time I have a subject on which to rant (ahem, I'm looking at the clusterfuck that is Iraq), I'll be sure to post to all. Yay!

Secondly, please allow me to address my title. Last week was a pretty stressful week when it came to work. There were a multitude of stories that popped up out of nowhere and I had gotten used to a routine. But then, on Thursday, one of the busiest of all these days, my car stalls. I'm freaked out; I'm convinced my 2-year-old car will be with me no more. So, I do what any person who knows nothing about cars does, I take it to the shop and hope I don't get ripped off. Anyway, while my car is in the shop getting its oil changed and searching for other things for which to charge me, I need to get to interviews, so what do I do? I bum rides off of my co-workers like they have nothing else to do but cart me around town. All of this reminds me of another hero/mortal enemy: Cameron Crowe. I read recently in Rolling Stone that he was so ambitious that he started his journalism career before he got his license. Being slightly more savvy than I, he bummed rides off of interview subjects to keep the conversation going. Nonetheless, I think it's a bond that puts me closer to rock journalism stardom.

Third, a quick note to all my friends: Shayna, Casey, Quada, Jen, Stephanie and of course, Dad, I owe all of you some major phone time. I haven't really felt like talking. There's nothing bad but as you can tell my from my absence in posting, there's very little that is exciting. Sure, I could tell you about my cooking venture this week or my knitting project or perhaps the documentary I just watched, but I doubt that those are half as interesting as a shot of vodka and Animals Close-Up with a Wide-Angle Lens. Then again, maybe I shouldn't be so self-absorbed. Maybe you all (okay, who am I kidding, you all do) lead more interesting lives and would like to share your experiences with me.

Lastly, I'm trying to get on a reading kick, but in the immortal words of Belle & Sebastian, "I spent the summer wasting / the sky was blue beyond compare." I barely make it through magazines let alone actual books. That being said, I have FINALLY finished Fargo Rock City, which in all fairness since May I've had to read all of 15 pages that are pretty light reading. I have also just read The Polysyllabic Spree essays by Nick Hornby. One thing is we do read (or intend to read) a lot of the same books. The other is that his books have gotten continually more mediocre since About a Boy so he better have one good thing going. The book mostly made me realize that there's no point in reading books. This is because out of the vast number of books we read, fairly few stick with us and even if they do, we only remember vaguely what they're about. At least that's how it is for me. I do have the noble ambitions of reading Marvel 1602 and Three Nights in August this month. If I get even more ambitious, I may pick up Founding Brothers. Despite this realization, I think I'm going to head off to half.com, buy some books I can't afford, drink some Stoli Blueberry Vodka and watch Animals Close-Up with a Wide-Angle Lens.

Catch ya later, Bill and Ted!

I am not the post office

Okay, so it's been awhile, as everyone has informed me. I'd like to pretend that I was actually busy or full of exciting news. Mostly, I've been movie watching and fishing. Oh, and Mom and Tim came to visit.

I think actually if I can place when my life fell off the organized perch I pretended to live on was in the middle of June, when I had a few bad weeks at work and some bad news (in the form of bills). Since then it's been just a vain attempt to keep my little world afloat. I know, I know the world's smallest violin is playing for me.

So, let's jump past those two weeks to the 4th of July. That was nice. I held a barbeque here. The co-workers came. Pete cooked on the grill. I made jell-o shots. Cindy brought homegrown beef. Stefanie brought the flag cake. Aarhus, the accessories. And most importantly, Travis brought the beer. The fireworks were nice, but nothing compares to STL.

The next week involved mostly cleaning to prepare for Mom and Tim. I watched some all right Netflix movies but nothing exciting.

As for something nice to do for Mom and Tim after spoiling me for a weekend, the best I can come up with is a column thanking them. It's been almost four days since they left and I haven't had much time to think about it, nor do I have any idea what to say. So, they came in Thursday night and we snacked and drank wine and debated how I would raise any children I might one day have. (Don't ask how we got on that topic.) On Friday, I took them to the bbq place and then later Ralphy's. While I was at work, they bought me stuff from Wal-Mart, cleaned my house and slept in. I also gave them a tour of the press. I think they enjoyed it, but it mostly showed how ignorant I am of what actually happens after I put my story in the local queue. Then, we went to the Dakota Lodge and they met most of co-workers. I don't know what they thought, but my friends liked them. And mom learned about cattle. (Someday, she wants to be a rancher.) Saturday, we ended up being pretty lazy. Again, there was more cleaning and watching of VH-1. I also got free groceries, and a dinner in Amidon. I liked it, but I don't know it was worth the hour-long ride. We went to bed early because Sunday morning we woke up at 5:30 for a horse ride in Medora. My ass hurt, and that's all I got. Okay, it was pretty awesome but my ass hurt, and then we went shopping and I got ice cream. I basically lived like a spoiled five-year-old princess. Anyway, if I ever get around to the column, I might actually be able to sum up better how nice it was to see them and how much I think they liked seeing that I'm doing mostly all right out here.

Anyway, my subject "I am not the post office" refers to the fact that instead of being passive agressive, for just about the first tim in my life I was outright aggressive or at least somewhat confrontational. A guy came in suggesting that I didn't mail his photos back to him, and he was actually accusing me of blatantly ignoring his request. So, when he asked why he hadn't gotten the photos I allegedly mailed, I said, "I don't know, sir. I am not the post office." This week has only gotten better from there when another woman has now accused me of remembering wrong, which is absolutely not true. I need to get a tougher skin. I have basically been a bitch all week because my week has not gone according to my plans and people keep griping. Goodness, I'm even more of a brat than I thought.

With that, I'll have my cake and eat it too, by watching The Daily Show and eating ice cream and drinking gin and updating my Netflix queue and calling Pookie. So, take that all of you. It's good to be back.