Category Archives: Thoughts.

Ideas, concepts, insights, etc.

What I really think about tax returns.

Ahhh, feels so good to file your taxes. Though I probably should have gotten around to doing it about a month ago, I still feel pretty good about getting my tax return filed six weeks before Tax Day (my 14th favorite holiday).

Since filing them yesterday afternoon, I have been obsessively fantasizing about all of the things I can do with my $412. Of course, once I write them down they probably won’t seem so exciting, but fuck it! I’m still thrilled to be getting money that I almost didn’t notice I had lost. Of course, there is the inevitability that someday in the future I will actually owe the government money, rather than the other way around, but I’m going to choose not to think about that. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Anyway, my Tax Day List (not unlike a Christmas list!):

1. Save: I am going to try my darnedest to set aside some money as a base to save for moving in the somewhat near future. I am also going to attempt to save at least $50 for my second favorite holiday (next to Taylor’s birthday, of course) 4/20/2010!!

2. Go grocery shopping: Thrilling, I know, but I owe Taylor a fatty round of groceries for the both of us, cause she got this last one while I was waiting for my first paycheck. Plus, by the time I get my return I will be almost done with my vegan thing, and can splurge on some delicious things (brie, ice cream), unless of course the next three weeks are truly life altering.

3. Pay bills: We needn’t go into too much detail here, this is pretty dull and depressing and definitely self-explanatory.

4. Pay a debt: I have a couple of debts collected around town. : D Mostly, a movie rental chain (which will remain unnamed) totally fucked me over for the price of three DVDs at $150. How this makes sense, I do not know, but it consequently overdrew my bank account, etc. So I have decided to pay this bullshit off, and get it out of my hair.

5. Buy measuring cups!: I know, I know, you’re starting to wonder if I could be anymore boring or like your mother. Let me tell you, you’re probably right. But almost all of our measuring cups except one have been lost/broken/melted/chewed by the dogs. And if you were trying to make bread (three cups of water and six-and-a-half cups of flour) and all you had was a 1/3 cup measuring device, you’d be going crazy too. And fucking up your recipes cause you can’t keep count.

6. Buy a gift for Taylor: Ya know, something pretty. Or practical, by the looks of this list. But either way, something I will not disclose here, cause she’ll see it, and it’ll wreck the surprise (even though she claims to hate surprises anyway.)

7. Order some beer: Yup. But only because I want a damn six pack of Leinenkugel’s Sunset Wheat (featured in my Christmas list post), and the only place in Portland I’ve been able to find it is Henry’s. And though I love their selection of beer (as it is vast!), it is usually too crowded and loud and overwhelming for my introverted taste, plus two pints of the beer I want would probably the same price (or more) than I could pay to have it shipped to my doorstep, where I could enjoy it slowly, in the company of good friends.

8. Have a fun night out/date night: Like a movie or laser light show and maybe fancy dinner and dessert. Maybe a trip up to Rocky Butte to see the lights at night, a long drive out somewhere, a picnic. Something great.

And that is all I can think of for now, though I’m pretty sure that I just spent more money in my head than the return will be total, so maybe the saving bit will end up going out the window. : D

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What I really think about getting away.

It’s all fun and games until your grandmother has a stroke and your childhood dog dies.

But! My five days away were still lovely, albeit somewhat stressful, though they did not afford much time or energy or motivation for blogging.

No worries, my three avid readers, I am back with vengeance, and a job!

Sorry you had to miss me so much, but it was well worth it to  have a fun and carefree handful of days away before heading in to work again for the first time in quite a while (that extremely brief, shameful, self-loathing blip at a discount store that shall not be named does not count!)

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What I really think about armpit hair.

Ahhh, the long-debated and never resolved, to shave or not to shave?

As the occupant of a rather liberal city, who occupies rather liberal circles, I can safely say I have encountered my fair share of armpit hair, in both men and women. And while I was never especially a fan of it on men, I (oddly) happen to think women who are liberated enough to grow out their pit hair and raise their arms high above their heads while wearing a tank top are sexy as hell.

And yet, I don’t care for it on men–I would almost go so far as to say that it sort of grosses me out. And this double standard makes me feel like a hypocrite, or some sort of sexist, backwards feminist, or some sort of represser of males. Of course, I would never expect them to shave their armpits constantly for my sake, nor do I find it enough of a turn off to actually have an influence on anything… So why do women feel so compelled to shave? Does anyone really care that much about some hair in an armpit or two?

Let me say (as not only a liberated woman, but a lazy one) it has been a long while since I have taken a razor to my underarms, and I am damn proud of that. My two little patches of hair resemble those of a pubescent boys’, but I think they are fun, and for as long as I keep them, I think they are a bold and confident statement of feminism! Har har. Up to this point, however, I have felt obligated to remove any sign of hair from my underarms, as though it were never there at all. In fact, at this time last year I had equally under-groomed underarms, and began to feel uncomfortable at work while reaching up for items on display higher up. As soon as I started to reach for them I would break into a cold sweat, worried that I would lose my sale or make customer run away, screaming at the sight of my overgrown underarms.

And for what reason? Why does hairlessness = beauty?

Well I’ve had enough! Popular culture and opinion can put that in it’s pipe and smoke it!

But you’re probably right, I’m just trying to justify my own laziness and cut down on my overall shower time. Now there’s an idea–conserve water, quit shaving!

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What I really think about doppelgangers.

After avoiding the Facebook breast cancer post-your-bra-color extravaganza, I gave in to the evils of fads and doppelgangers week. Equipped with the ever-so-handy celebrity look-alike generator on MyHeritage.com, I picked out a straight-on, full-faced picture of me that seemed to be the best representation, and uploaded it. I excitedly waited for my matches with Taylor, wondering if I would get Reese Witherspoon (who people always say I look like) or one of the Olsen twins (who people used to say I looked like as a child).

Finally, after almost more time than I could stand (I mean come on, high speed internet, really?!) my matches finally popped up! As we scrolled through them, my matches were increasingly disappointing and, for the most part, male or Asian (including Daniel Radcliffe AKA Harry fucking Potter).

Obviously, after this I was seriously disenchanted. I decided I was nowhere near cute (or thin?) enough to post a picture of either of the Olsen twins or Reese Witherspoon, out of fear that people would scoff and think me conceited. So I posted no picture, and just an update to the effect of: Tried to find her doppelganger via MyHeritage.com, and her best matches were either Daniel Radcliffe (??) or Asian and/or male. So, no go, I’m just free to be me.

Needless to say, the post got a couple of responses, one from Taylor’s brother, who informed me that he thinks I look a little bit like America Ferrera, and the other from a friend who agreed. I googled her, of course, and browsed through a few images before deciding that she, too, was a little too pretty for me to presume her to be my doppelganger, and picked a picture of her in her show “Ugly Betty.” Though I am neither Hispanic nor have braces, some of the facial features and the glasses reminded me of myself.

But I wasn’t satisfied.

I googled “Reese Witherspoon” (not quite me), so I googled “fat Reese Witherspoon” (apparently there is no such thing), so (remembering her in Election) I googled “young Reese Witherspoon.” Tah-dah! I found a picture I was content with (similar to the one on the left), and cropped it a little, and called it a day.

But I still feel silly… And… I guess I would rather just be me… Ha.

Needless to say, we fiddled around on MyHeritage.com all day. My friend Casey who got Mother Teresa as her number one match (an aged Mother Teresa at that) when all she really looks like is our friend Jessa (or so we’ve heard), and Jessa’s match included Halle Berry and Madonna, neither of whom she looks like at all (we have since decided that their system is seriously flawed, aside from several matches here and there that were fairly close). Of course, this brought us to search for other celebrity look-alike generators, which led me to stumbling upon the greatest and the creepiest website of all time.

MakeMeBabies.com !! Holy shit.

Naturally, I matched my picture with pictures of all of my friends that were readily available (and some that were not), and picked out a frame and gender (or no gender) and name, and a picture of our child (“Little _____”) was generated and framed. I even matched myself up to see what my love child with Miley Cyrus would look like (trashy, and not cute).

See! Today, I did a damn good job using this period of joblessness.

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What I really think about swallowing your pride.

I panicked and… it happened.

I sucked it up, I e-mailed my old manager, I put my nose in all the right places, and I got my job back.

I’m officially un-unemployed.

As of week three (after Valentine’s Day) I’m headed in to be re-trained in the art of bra-fitting.

This means I have two weeks left to enjoy the nerve-wracking bliss of unemployment.

Look at me go! I’m determined to not shower and wear my pajamas constantly and incessantly smoke and play useless games on the internet and giggle and bloggggg my life away. Well, the next two weeks of my life, anyway.

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What I really think about Nick Hornby: an interlude.

“It’s not what you like but what you’re like that’s important.”

High Fidelity by Nick Hornby

“One thing about great art: it made you love people more, forgive them their petty transgressions. It worked in the way that religion was supposed to, if you thought about it.”

Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby

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What I really think about the evolution of love.

Funny how something as silly as finding your bath towel hung up (the way you like it) can make you fall all over again.

hanging towel

I know everyone says they miss the fanatical infatuation of a new relationship, but I almost think I prefer the towel hanging on the back of the door.

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