MIA

It's been a longggg time since I last posted on here. And honestly, I shouldn't be right now! I have a ridiculous amount of work that needs to be done and here I am, procrastinating again. Just an update: I got my second tattoo a couple weeks ago. I love love love it! I already know what I want my next one to be! My poor, poor mother. Just for her, I'm gonna do my best to not cover my entire body in art! This is really the only picture I have that captures most of the tattoo. I should really take a new one now that it's not all swollen and red! Another time..

Now excuse me while I spend another couple weeks in misery, buried in my school work. No worries though-- I'll be back shortly!

xoxo

Love.Love.Love.

Just had to do it. You understand.

In memory of an unidentified flying feline (UFF).

I think it's important to take a moment to reflect on the lost life of a UFF. Though we may not have known him, I'm sure his life must have been meaningful. He probably made some little child very, very happy for some time, short as it may have been. HOWEVER, a child will never have the chance to cuddle with that particular kitty again because I RAN OVER HIM WITH MY CAR!!!

It's a strange story, really. Here I was minding my own business, driving down the Johnstown expressway. Having the need for speed, I decided to pass the slowpoke ahead of me. So, I move into the left lane. And right as I am wedged in between the cement divider on my left and the slowpoke on my right, something flies over the cement divider. Yes, it flew. Unfortunately, the landing wasn't quite as smooth as the flight. The kitty landed right under my tire on the passenger's side of my car. This, I am sure of.

The last thing I saw before I felt the bump was an erect tail and four graceful legs sailing through the air. What a horrific night.

Rest in Pieces, UFF. :(

Spring break.. what a joke.

So it's supposed to be spring break this week and I can't make myself relax. There's just so much I have to get done so soon. First off, I still haven't looked at any apartments because I haven't had time to call everywhere and set up appointments. If I keep it up, I'll be stuck where I'm at next year too. Uck! That's a huge problem.. you'd understand if you saw my hallway.

Secondly, my neuro class-- not going so well. It doesn't matter how much time I spend studying for that God awful class, I do worse on each test. I don't even know what to do anymore. On top of that, I'm supposed to be writing a paper with a group in my health psych class, but wait-- they never come to class. The teacher told me she was worried about our group, and quite frankly, so am I. I passed on our worries to my group members and came back with the response, "Oh well." WTF. So, basically, this is a failing semester. I'm going to be in school forever.

It doesn't help that they give me a ton of work to do over break anyway. What kind of break is this? Oh yeah, it's not one. It's just a week to make me even more miserable. One more week to think about all the stuff I have to do before summertime. Forgive me for not blogging lately; I've lost my sense of humor. I'm too busy ripping my hair out.

Teeny Weeny Polka Dot Bikini

Today I came home to find my Victoria's Secret online purchases anxiously waiting for me! I can't tell you how excited I get when stuff comes in the mail.. even when I have to pay for the joy I'm receiving. And what should come in the mail today but something that is completely incompatible with today's weather forecast.

SNOW. ICE. WIND. (and lots of it).

It was my teeny polka dot bikini. (I'm not kidding). I guess I thought it would be good inspiration to get back on the treadmill and tone up again. All it really does though is make me think about summer. I feel no increase in motivation to exercise whatsoever. So now I'm just sitting around, not studying my neuroscience (surprise!), thinking about the beach.. Thinking about how long it will be before I get back to the beach. Winter's going to be over soon, right?

Though I'd love to hope, I don't even have to look outside to know that the weather is absolutely preposterous. I can hear it. On top of the ridiculous amount of snow we already had, another 10+ inches are currently falling outside my door. Wanna know the truth? I love it. But right now I'd just like to skip over the whole spring thing and just jump right into a hot, hot summer.

So, hurry summer. My teeny bikini can't wait! (though I suppose I could just add some furry boots and a scarf and flaunt it throughout the rest of the winter months. Hm.)..

[photo from victoriassecret.com]

Irish coffee, frisky felines & ghostly encounters?

Earlier this evening, after time spent in the library being unusually productive, my friend Heather and I decided to grab something to eat on the way home. Then, we were hit with a fantastic idea! We decided to stop in at Pete's pub, which just so happened to be on the way to the eating establishment we were headed to, to have an irish coffee. I had been dying to try one ever since I'd heard about them a few weeks ago. Being the coffee addict/fanatic/enthusiast that I am, I could barely contain my excitement and didn't mind spending a whopping $12.50 on two standard-sized cups.

When our irish coffees came out, however, we were a little more than shocked. We were appalled. Where was the cream (obviously the best part!)? It definitely didn't look like any irish coffee I'd seen pictured on the internet. We didn't want to waste though, so we decided to take a sip, despite its grim appearance.. BAD idea. Where do I start? There was absolutely no sugar, a necessary ingredient (check wikipedia). Furthermore, you couldn't really taste any of the coffee over the whiskey (Can I have some coffee with my whiskey, please?). It was quite possible to get drunk off of the awful excuse-for-a-drink just by inhaling. And to be honest, I'm not the biggest whiskey fan. Needless to say, I'm extremely disappointed. The end.

On a totally different note, the alley beside my apartment seems to be housing a feline who has exceptional time-telling abilities. Every night between the hours of four and five am, he moans and howls at the top of his lungs. Some nights, he fights with something (however, I can only hear one cat-- weird). Others nights, he sounds like he's in heat (maybe he is actually a she!!!). I don't know why this particular stray has chosen my alley or why it proceeds to make its presence known at such an odd hour. However, I am impressed by its exceptional ability to keep track of time.. though it's insanely creepy. I would like to suggest honing its natural abilities to make myself a back-up alarm clock.. because everyone knows I like to sleep through my morning classes. Oops!

Lastly, I would like to mention the fact that my apartment is haunted. At least I'm convinced it is. I am exceptionally good about saving electricity, turning off the water, locking the door-- stuff like that. Those are things that I do not forget to do. So, it was very unfortunate when I walked into my bathroom last night to brush my teeth and my sink was going full blast. You're thinking that I must've forgotten to turn it off after my last bathroom trip. Nope, that's not it. I'd actually spent some time in my kitchen, which is right next to the bathroom, only a few moments before and I did not hear any running water. So how did this happen? Excellent question. I'm still trying to figure that out myself since my faucets are old and hard to turn on and off. It couldn't possibly have slipped on.

So you think I'm crazy, right? Things go bump in the night. Big deal. But there are just too many unexplainable events that have occurred in my apartment over the past few months. Right now, sitting alone in my shadowy living room, I'd rather not think about it.

[photos from google.com]

Striking resemblance, no?

Tomorrow I have to find my way to the animal hospital so my dog, Dusty, can pay the vet a visit. I wish I could say the visit is simply a checkup, but it's not. My dog is a medical mystery. Funny. She seems to take after me in that respect. She has far too many allergies for her own good and has been prescribed everything from steroids to a lamb & rice ONLY diet and fish oil supplements (YUCK!). Of course, nothing works. On top of that, she has a chronic odor that refuses to go away. No amount of bathing or spraying can get her smelling the way an upstanding, regularly-bathed dog should smell. She's impossible.

This week, she has a fluid-filled lump on her neck, which sent me into a state of grossed-out panic. Thus, the veterinarian.

This has really got me thinking though. I'm sure you've heard that people pick dogs who look like them and act like them. Now, I'm not excessively hairy and I definitely don't have the massive underbite that she does (nor the striking odor), but I truly am a medical mystery. Who would have ever thought I could find a dog who has as many allergies as I do? Apparently, it is possible.. though completely unintentional on my part.

Tomorrow at the appointment, I expect her ailments to be met with confused, yet seemingly confident faces. Eventually, we'll be sent away with a medication that will not make her allergy-related issues go away. I swear to you my dog does not readily respond to medical treatment. Poor Dusty. I'll feel some sympathy and empathize. Then, I'll probably spend an unnecessary large sum of money on her before we go home to make her feel better. If retail therapy works on me, shouldn't it work for her? After all, we are alike in at least one respect. And everyone knows that shopping has the power to heal.

& who needs love when there's southern comfort?

As Valentine's Day is nearing, I can't help but feel agitated. Once again, I am left all alone Bridget Jones style (pre-Darcy, of course). I tell myself I don't care.. and I really shouldn't. Has anything good ever really happened to me on Valentine's day? A quick look back on the most memorable.. or the only memorable February 14th's of my sad, non-existent love life:

Sixth grade: No one wants to be outwardly admired in sixth grade-- not when the boys still have booger noses and cooties are running amuck. Unfortunately, it was my special day. Somebody liked me. I walked into the cafeteria that fateful day unaware of what was waiting for me. I was not only nauseatingly embarrassed when I heard those five awful words, but I seriously considered drowning myself in my pudding cup. The dreaded words were "I LOVE YOU, BROOKE THOMAS!" A fourth grader named Michael had not only said it, he screamed it as he was walking into the cafeteria. What was wrong with kids in the 90s? A handwritten note would have been sufficient.

Eighth grade: Eighth grade wasn't my best year. I was still trying to figure out how I should dress and style my hair. I was obviously completely uncomfortable in my own body and totally sure everyone could see that. Additionally, my conversational skills with boys during this time were severely lacking. So what did I say when someone I didn't know marched up to my locker with a rose and a box of chocolates for Valentine's day? "Uhhh.. thank you? I think.." What I really wanted to say was, "Okay, I already feel weird enough. Why would you do this to me? You should go now." Worse yet, I was disappointed that it wasn't from my crush that I obsessively drooled over day after day. I won't lie-- I was completely undeserving. That was the second heart I broke on Valentine's day.

Freshman year of college: I actually had a boyfriend this time. Considering the fact that up until this point my commitment-phobic personality had led me to dump every boyfriend I had ever had within two weeks, I thought I was doing pretty well for myself even if he treated me like absolute crap. How disappointing was it to get dumped only a few days after a very mediocre Valentine's day by a boy that I should've kicked to the curb months ago? It was actually pretty devastating. Was I deserving? Karma thought so.

Where am I going with this?

Valentine's Day and I simply do not mesh. The only attention I have ever received on that special day has been humiliating to me in one way or another, though most times these little actions were meant to make my day, not ruin it. Maybe it's because I am so dang selective (and wrongfully so) when it comes to relationships or maybe I'm a spinster-in-the-making by nature, but either way, this day brings nothing but anger and angst for me. I find myself wanting to shoot cupid down from the heavens above and feeling a nasty sense of satisfaction watching him fall. At least one of us has good aim.

For a really long time, when I still wanted to be a doctor, I saw myself happy being single forever. A change in career just means that I'll have more time on my hands to think about it. More time is good. I like to crochet. I like cats.

[photos from google.com]

Not the same old thong & dance..

According to Cosmo, the thong is out of style, unfashionable, overrated. In the 90's, the thong was queen of the panty world. Today, however, it has fallen from grace and apparently been replaced by a fairly recent creation, the boyshort (today's biggest seller). Why has everyone so cruelly turned on the thong, the woman's long-time friend? It feels wrong to just leave it out in the cold and replace it with a newer, trendier model. Well, the Cosmo experts say that it accentuates the booty, something that some of us without a visible back-end could really use. I must admit, they're not kidding. Even I look like I have a badunkadunk with no pants on!

However, to say that the thong does nothing for me would be untrue. Although it may not accentuate my booty, it's become a long-time friend of mine. The first time I bought a thong, I wasn't a kid anymore--I felt like a woman. It was a growing experience for me, a step to maturity (at least clothing-wise). I may have looked like a pre-teen to everyone else, but I had a little secret that only I knew.

Let Cosmo say what they will. As outdated as they may be, I refuse to give them up. My personal thong collection is irreplaceable. Call me old-fashioned!

[photos from google.com]

Six of my favorite things right now.

One. Winky Brand Gel Bites. They are spectacular! I buy a bag at Sheetz on my way to Pittsburgh each week. Great snack.. I just wish they came in grape.

Two. I can't get enough lipstick right now. It was something new I tried and now saying I'm addicted would be an understatement. I haven't really experimented with any colors that were too noticeable, so maybe my next goal should be trying something a little bolder.
Three. Yoga! I wish I wasn't so tired by the time I try to pull out the yoga dvd. I'll never get past downward facing dog at this rate. But it's still a great relaxer.. if you have time for it.
Four. Boots with heels. If you can walk in them, then I suggest owning a pair. I'd be wearing a lot more of them if I didn't have such a long walk to class in Pittsburgh and a job that is completely incompatible with my wardrobe.
Five. Dear John by Nicholas Sparks. I can't wait until the movie comes out on Friday-- I'm dragging my brother to see it with me. Until then I'll just be reading the novel every chance I get.
Six. Procrastinating and not taking this opportunity to study for my neuroscience test, which I know I'll be regretting at around four pm tomorrow. Or should I say today?

[photos from google.com]

Tattoo controversy.

So I have my next three tattoos planned out. One of them just so happens to be a pin up girl. Ha. I'm going to put her on my left lower back. No one seems to understand why I want this particular tattoo. It's been suggested that I get a tattoo of myself as a pin up girl instead. But there's just something about my pin up girl that I find so classic.. and classy. I know I'll be stuck with this for the rest of my life and I'm okay with it. I'm thinking I shouldn't let other people influence my decisions on what kind of body ink I should get. I know me better than anyone else and I think it's fantastic. If someone else can't handle my choices and doesn't like my tattoos, then I guess they don't really like me, do they? Hm.