This morning I really did not want to get up. And when I say I really didn't want to get up, I mean that I repeatedly pushed the snooze button for the alarms on both my clock and my phone until the alarm on my phone stopped displaying a snooze option.

I rolled out of bed, blinked blearily, and started looking for clothes. My cat was curled up asleep on my bed so I poked at her. "If I have to wake up, you have to wake up," I snapped waspishly. It was childish and mean, but Stella just blinked her big eyes at me, stretched luxuriously, then curled up into a furry ball and went back to sleep.

I went through the rest of my morning ritual in a daze, mostly thinking about the fact that I have a four day weekend coming up and I would be able to sleep in for all four of those days. Aside from the yearning for my bed, the morning was going fairly smoothly until I was ready to walk out the door and couldn't find my keys.

I don't lose my keys. I just don't. There are three places I put them when I walk in the door; my dining room table, a basket on top of my tower speaker, or the front pocket in my battered old leather jacket. They were in none of these places. I checked the kitchen (actually clean for once), the mess on my dining room table, the living room, the computer room where I had spent most of the evening playing World of Warcraft, my bedroom, even the bathroom. They were nowhere. Mystification quickly turned into panic when I realized I was running late.

"Kitty, where are my KEYS?!" I shrieked.

Stella, of course, refused to get up and help me find them. Which in retrospect was probably in retaliation for my behavior towards her earlier.

I finally dug my spare car key out of a jar filled with pens, spare change, gum, inch long plastic ninjas, and an earring, tromped out to my car, scraped the ice off my windshield with a seldom used credit card, and went to work ten minutes late.

I found my keys three hours later in my purse.

It's just one of those days.

Well, after being sick Friday through Monday I finally feel almost human again. Awful headache and wracking cough aside, that is. Sitting around at home being too miserable to enjoy the three day weekend I ended up having left me lots of time to reflect on deep, philosophical truths.

Reflections on being sick:

It sucks.

Reflections on cold remedies:

If you put enough Jameson in your vanilla nut tea with honey, you will start to feel much better.

Too sick. Leave me alone.

Reflections on CONTINUING to forgot to put the Netflix in the mail:

AAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!

Reflections on my family:

They bring me cold medicine when I am sick and cranky and don't want to leave the house. Also, Mom is very sympathetic and lets me whine as much as I want. Which is a lot.

Reflections on my boyfriend:

Pat takes very good care of me. Unfortunately also facilitates spending too much time on WoW.

Reflections on being back at work:

Reflections on that photo:

Too sick. Leave me alone.

I have an amazing story to tell that involves time travel and amateur haircuts, but I must wait until I get the photos off my phone before telling that story. It's just not as good without visuals. So until then, we have bullets!

• I've felt like I've been getting a cold for the past two days, and I still can't tell if I'm really getting sick, or if it's just really bad allergies. Regardless, I'm cranky. My sinuses are so pressurized I feel like my face might explode, I have a headache, my nose won't stop running, and my throat is scratchy. SEE?! I AM JUSTIFIED IN MY CRANKINESS!

• I got to play a little bit of Fallout 3 last night, and.... WOW. Just WOW. I need an X-box 360. Now would be nice.

• Pat is helping me put my new DVD drive into my computer this evening before Supernatural so I can finally install Wrath of the Lich King! /cheer!

• Speaking of Pat, I learned that when Pat assures me that he didn't ruin the ramen noodles, he actually did ruin the ramen noodles. Next time he is not allowed to "fix" the ramen. It's one of the few things I actually can prepare without having an anxiety attack. I will handle it.

• The new gym I joined is amazing. Easily the cleanest, best smelling gym I've ever been in. Cardio machines all benefit from the several fans affixed to the ceiling (but not ceiling fans, real fans), there are rows of flat panel televisions on the walls, and sparkling new equipment. I still haven't gone as much as I should have, mainly because I haven't really felt all that great.

• My phone is still amazing.

• I just spellchecked this post before publishing it, and you would not believe the amount of typos I managed to make...

My littlest sister is turning twelve this year (we're going to carefully ignore the fact that I was confused for most of the year and actually thought she was turning thirteen). It seems like it was just a few weeks ago that she was sinking her teeth into my arm as I carried her to her room and throwing the most incredible tantrums. Instead of biting and shrieking, she now plays Guitar Hero with me and asks me about comic books.

Susannah is twelve years younger than I am, and it's always been more of a challenge for me to connect with her on any level. Then I called my mom one day and Susannah picked up the phone. "GUESS WHAT," she exclaimed when she realized it was me.

"What?" I asked.

"My PS2 memory card wiped itself again! I didn't touch anything!"

"Damn!" I was honestly shocked, because as every gamer knows, there are very few things worse than having your whole freaking memory card wipe itself. "We really need to get you either a Sony brand memory card or that off brand that I use, can't remember the name. I've never had any problems with them. Damn that sucks!"

She sighed. "I'm not really worried about the Champions of Norrath files or most of the other stuff on there, but I lost my Kingdom Hearts file! There are some hard bosses in that game!"

And it was right about then that I realized my little sister is a gamer.

She also just watched the X-Men movies and is suddenly very interested in comic books. I wanted to laugh with delight when she starting asking me "so does this happen in the comic book series? What about that? How did that happen in the comics? Can I borrow some of your comic books?"

I was just about her age, maybe a year older, when I bought my first comic book, an Uncanny X-Men.

She's old enough now that I suddenly see things I can relate to. I'm excited to start introducing her to comics. First the big name companies, Marvel and DC, then I can start showing her the smaller independents. I can take her to the Seattle ComiCon. I can play video games with her.

Dealing with a twelve year age difference is hard, but I think we're going to have a blast.

I wasn't even sure what I was going to write about today, but I told myself STOP PLAYING WITH THE PHONE AND POST!

The Scene: Pat and I are on our way back to my place after watching Supernatural and eating amazing homemade meatball subs with his parents. Pat is driving. I'm throwing a fit about street signs.

Me: What the hell? WHO NAMES THESE STREETS?! No seriously, I want to know whose job it is to name streets! Who gets to decide that a street is called Widme?! Or Big Rock?! Or Noll?!

Pat: (is laughing, and trying to pretend he isn't) Becca, a lot of these streets are people's names.

Me: Hidden Springs? Are there hidden springs down that road? Can we go find them?

Pat: No.

Me: Why not?

Pat: Because then they wouldn't be hidden anymore, and they'd have to rename the street.

Me: So? Anyway, I still want to know who decides - WHAT?! Seriously, Bjermerland?!

Pat: That sounds like it should be a nordic fortress or something.

Me: Well, there is a fortress down there.

Pat: There is not.

Me: Have you been down there?

Pat: Yes! That's where the driving school is!

Me: The fortress is new. You probably haven't seen it yet.

Pat: (turns off the headlights as we approach another street sign)

Me: (screeching) What are you doing?!

Pat: (turns them back on) Nothing. Just keeping you from reading every street sign we see.

Me: Knock it off! You're going to get pulled over!

Pat acquiesces to my hysteria and leaves the headlights on. There is a brief moment of silence while we hear some radio talk show mention Hilary Clinton is going to be Secretary of State (no idea if that's true, just barely heard it in passing).

Me: I don't even know what the Secretary of State does. What does the Secretary of State even do?

Pat: Mmm....

Me: You have no idea.

Pat: (gives me a look) Of course I know. The Secretary of State names all the streets.

Me: (laughing) Oh yeah?

Pat: When the Secretary of State first walks in his or her office, they're handed a bunch of boxes. In the boxes are lists of streets that all need names. The Secretary of State tries to name as many they can as quickly as possible. Because then they get more points. And if they get enough points, they get to go into the Street Naming High Scores Hall of Fame.

Me: Wow. I had no idea.

Pat: (laughs) If I was in charge, the government would be awesome.

Another thirty seconds of silence as my mind races around to places that aren't useful or intelligent in the slightest.

Me: Hey, remember Kongs?

Pat: WHAT?

Me: Kongs!

Pat: Are you just making up words now?

Me: No! They're dog toys! Rubber dog toys that go like bloop bloop bloop (making hand motions to indicate a small top widening to a larger base). And they're open in the bottom, so you can put treats and stuff in there.

Pat: I think you're making this up.

Me: Am not! They're red and black and who named that street CALDART?

Pat: That's probably somebody's name!

Me: CALDART?

Pat: Yeah! Look, Jensen! That's somebody's name too!

Me: All streets are not named after people!

Pat: Yes they are. Look, 10th. That's totally somebody's name. (a few seconds later) Highway 305! I'm totally naming my first kid Highway 305.

Me: You shouldn't be allowed anywhere near the naming process for your children. Why are you so stuck on the idea of streets named after Transformers?

Pat: ........ WHAT?

Me: I mean... I mean people's names! I was just thinking about the Transformers and my words got mixed up!

Pat: (laughing helplessly)

Me: Look, Viking! Are you going to tell me that's named after a person?

Pat: No, that's named Viking because there used to be vikings who lived here.

Me: You have absolutely no clue what you're talking about.

Pat: Of course I do.

Me: Do not.

(we pull onto my street)

Pat: You'd better watch it or I'm going to have the Secretary of State rename your road Becca is a Stupid Dumbface Lane.

Me: That would be a pain to write on an envelope.

Pat: You're right. And all your neighbors would be mad at you.

Me: I don't think you would really do that.

(we pull into my driveway and Pat parks the car)

Pat: (laughs) No, I wouldn't. I love you.

Me: Love you too. Lets go play Guitar Hero!

When I finally made my way to the Gamestop register, I smiled nervously at the cheerful man behind the counter. I could tell he was just as excited about the product release as I was, and didn't mind being at work at midnight. Which of course made what I was about to do even more humiliating.

"I fail at life and didn't pre-order," I admitted, my face flushing in shame. I couldn't look the man across from me in the eye. "Any chance I can still get a copy?" The last was almost a mumble. I couldn't bring myself to raise my voice. Surely the rest of the line behind me would hear.

"That dumb chick," they would whisper to each other, snickering behind their hands. "She didn't pre-order and thinks she can still get a copy. HA! I pre-ordered my collector's edition, like, a year ago."

Instead of laughing in my face and sending me out the door wrapped in a shroud of embarrassment, the Gamestop employee graced me with a benevolent smile which transformed his face from that of an ordinary human to something radiant that clearly transcended the mortal plane. "I've still got a couple copies left," he told me. "I'll get one for you."

I nearly cried with relief. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" I gasped. It was all I could do to not fall to my knees in gratitude. I still had the presence of mind to realize that although he was obviously a divine being, he might not appear so to the rest of the line behind me.

He pressed the box into my hands. "Servers are going to be a mess tonight," he said gently as though bestowing a saintly prediction.

"Yeah, no kidding," I replied. I flashed him my best smile, thanked him again, and moved away from the register before the line behind me started foaming at the mouth and/or having seizures.

Yes, I am now the proud owner of a brand-spanking-new copy of Wrath of the Lich King. And yes, you bet your ass I tromped out of the house at midnight to stand in a huge line in front of my local Gamestop. Fortunately I wasn't alone in this geekery - Pat and our friend John were there too.

The time we spent waiting in the line was fun. We babbled happily about instances, Death Knights, inscription, siege machines, and all the grand new things that were coming with our purchase of WotLK. Periodically when discussing a raid, Pat would call out "looking for more heals! Need four more heals!" to which he received responses such as "what about DPS? I'm DPS!"

We also got to see a lone woman dressed in a guild tabbard and wearing a full length black cloak. Honestly, not a huge deal. I'm sure in the larger cities there was a lot more dressing up going on. Really the only reason I mention this woman is because she had to be in her fifties. I would generally expect teenagers or especially geeky twentysomethings to dress up - not women nearly old enough to be my grandmother! But you know what? I hope she had a blast, and if she wants to dress up, more power to her.

The wait was actually very short. The Gamestop had set things up very efficiently, and they powered through the line in what I'm sure was record time. It helped that most of the people there had pre paid for their copies, so all they had to do was waltz in and flash their receipt.

Ah.... good times.

Of course...

...I can't actually install WotLK yet because my freaking DVD drive is still broken.

/epic fail.

Happily, yesterday was a holiday which meant no work for me. And while having a day off in the middle of the week completely throws off my internal calendar*, I'm really not going to complain too much about it.

For once, I actually had a productive day off.

Come on, now, no scoffing! I'm actually serious!

I woke up at about ten and dawdled in bed playing X-Men Legends 2 on my PSP until noonish when I suddenly realized HEY! I've got stuff to get done! I cast aside my Cleaning Inhibitor (which is what I'm calling all of my video game consoles at the moment), threw on some jeans, put Kansas in the record player, and cleaned the crap out of my dining room. I then proceeded to take all the recycling out, throw away all the pizza boxes in the kitchen, replace Kansas with Uriah Heep, put a load of laundry in, and wash windows. I then tromped outside, found my seldom used gardening gloves, and got rid of all the dead potted plants that were making my patio look like the courtyard for a Gothic Castle of Doom and Despair. Err... a Gothic Duplex of Doom and Despair, anyway.

I had some errands to run so I went to take a shower, only to realize that I had no hot water. This happens when you have an itty bitty hot water heater and a washing machine hooked up wrong so it always washes clothes in hot water, even when you tell it to use cold (which is totally Andrew's fault** ^_^ ). Refusing to be deterred from my unusual burst of productivity, I put my I-haven't-showered-yet-today hat on and took off to return library books (HA! No fines for me! THE DAY IS MINE, LIBRARY!), pick up contact lenses, buy kitty litter, light bulbs, and lipstick***, and drop by my mom's house where my ex happened to be hanging out to return some of his stuff.

With all these things accomplished I had barely enough time to get back home and take a shower before I met up with Pat and his friend Lucas to go see a movie. What movie did we go see? Well, of course the only terrible, low budget horror movie out right now; House. Surprisingly enough, I got a kick out of it. I'll write a review later.

On the agenda today: Clean the kitchen while listening to Boston and possibly Foreigner, clean out the refrigerator, clean out my car, and join the gym. Possibly try to start sorting out my back room?

I plan to get as much done as possible before my usual lethargy sets in. Wish me luck!

*Seriously, I actually went so far as to prepare the Monday morning staff meeting agenda before remembering that it was Wednesday.

**Although if he hooked it up wrong three and a half years ago and I never fixed it, does it really still count as his fault?

***Because clearly when making a trip to your local drugstore to buy kitty litter and light bulbs, you must also peruse the makeup. Or is that just me?

Wow, talk about footnote happy today! Good lord!

You know, I never used to get freaked out when I played survival horror video games. I stoically plowed my way through the Silent Hill series, cheerfully played the Fatal Frame games, and got cranky with the controls in the old Resident Evils. I was never jumpy. I never got creeped out. One of my favorite things to do was drag Nils over to my place and shriek with delight at how terrified he got when playing Silent Hill.

I started writing this in August and never posted it - mainly because I was too lazy to get the photo I needed out of my camera. But here it is!

I woke up this morning with a start. Disconcerted and groggy, I flipped my clock over*. 6AM? I don't think so. But as I rolled over in a huff, prepared to go back to sleep with a vengeance, I froze.

The walls of my bedroom were bathed in an otherwordly reddish light. Gasping, I tried to think of what could be happening. Zombies? Nuclear explosions? Gathering my courage I whirled around to look out of my bedroom window, prepared for the worst, mentally calculating how long it would take to find pants, scoop up Stella, and flee from the path of whatever impending catastrophe happened to be barrelling towards me.

It turned out to be unnecessary.









Wow.

I got up, went outside to my front porch, and sat on the railing while I watched the sun come up.


*My alarm clock lives upside down on my nightstand because of its horrendously bright blue display that lights up my bedroom better than the 60 watt bulb in my lamp.

One of my favorite bloggers, the generous, selfless, Canadian Ben over at No Ordinary Rollercoaster is offering his hand in marriage to some lucky individual desperate to escape America in the event that Senator McCain wins the election. I've decided to prepare an application just in case it becomes necessary. I would love for you all to review it and give me suggestions to help ensure that I appear an extremely desirable marriage prospect.



Okay, here it goes!


RE: Need to marry into Canada?


Dear Ben,


Let me first say that I thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving us the chance to escape a country that would flounder and suffer under the despotic rule of another republican. You are most certainly a gentleman, willing to sacrifice for the good of another. And you're hilarious. And beautiful. And amazing.

(Do you think I went overboard with the flattery?)


I would first like to address the requirements you laid out to prove that I did indeed read them, and I know what I'm applying for. I will not address every single requirement; I believe this will unnecessarily lengthen my application, and I understand that you are a busy man with many of these to sort through. If you would like clarification on a particular point, please feel free to contact me; I am at your beck and call.


1.) A man of your impeccable taste of course deserves to have his spouse cover all of his travel, living, and marriage expenses. Even if you had not specifically indicated that this was a requirement, I would have simply assumed that this would be the way things would work.


(You don't think he'll guess that I'm totally broke most of the time, do you?)


8.) I feel that I have a very good grasp of what will constitute your problems and my problems. Your examples were very helpful. I would be very good at solving "someone is dying in the living room" and "dog poop everywhere" problems. I am also frequently at a loss when I am desperate to give someone a massage and when I have free concert tickets. I believe we will compliment each other very well.


9.) Oh, Ben. You listed "ninja" as a trade that would be useful to you. Don't forget that not only am I a Winja, I am a superhero. Just think of the possibilities.


12.) I despise sci-fi shows, and am more than willing to sync dirty looks. If you choose to accept my application, we will be Dirty Look Masters. People far and wide will fear our Dual Dirty Look Combo.


(No one should mention to Ben that I love sci-fi shows. I mean, MY GOD, the new Battlestar Galactica? WOW! And Firefly was totally one of the best shows ever. So SHHHHH!)


15.) I am a Winja and a superhero. I am not concerned.


I would now like to discuss some of the reasons I think I would be a wise choice. One of the most important, at least in my opinion, is that if we were ever faced with a zombie outbreak or placed in a teen slasher flick, you, the newf, Calvin, Theo, and myself would all escape alive - I am inundated with horror scenario knowledge. I will bring a diverse collection of DVDs, music, books, and video games with me, which, according to requirement # 5, will all become yours. And last but not least, I am sweet, funny, encouraging, am very good at giving advice, and will always give you my honest opinion when you ask for it.




Now, if we are to enter into this marriage arrangement, I have two requirements. This may seem a bit presumptuous, but although I would very much like to escape this country, I am not a doormat.


1.) I require someone to watch Supernatural with me. You will definitely not find this onerous, I promise. I mean, Jensen Ackles. 'Nuff said. "Watching Supernatural" entails curling up together and squealing at the bounty of stunning men provided by the show.


2.) I'm bringing Stella, my cat, with me. She's loving, adorable, and so sweet you won't believe it.




(Okay, I'm definitely lying about that one. He didn't watch that video I posted where she wouldn't stop attacking me, did he?)




I look forward to hearing from you and participating in your reality TV show.




Love,



Becca


P.S.

Just think. We could be a part of your family for four to eight years!

So, what do you think? Hopefully it won't be necessary to send it in, but you never know. I like to be prepared. ^_^

I've been running around like a chicken with my head cut off all damn day, and I am taking a break.

And to preface the rest of this: Yes, I voted. I now have full right to complain bitterly and at great length if the election doesn't go the way I want it to.

I'm sort of drifting in and out of a sugar induced coma. On Halloween, I sat in the grocery store parking lot and debated about whether or not to buy candy. There are a few small children in my neighborhood, and while I was skeptical that I would be visited since my porch light has burned out (and apparently I can't be bothered to replace the bulb), I had this sick feeling that even the pitch blackness surrounding my front door wouldn't keep them away. I could envision two scenarios;

Scenario 1: Small, excited children trying to be adorable/scary while scoring as much candy as humanly possible ring the doorbell. I huddle in my dark house watching Dawn of the Dead and pretend I didn't hear. Feel guilty for the rest of the night.

Scenario 2: Small, excited children trying to be adorable/scary while scoring as much candy as humanly possible ring the doorbell. I answer the door and explain that I don't have any candy because I was miserably unprepared for the holiday this year. Feel guilty for the rest of the night.

Since I was already having enough trouble with Halloween this year without battling guilt, I marched into the store (skipping the alcohol aisle, be proud of me) and found the candy. I stood looking at the giant bags and thought to myself, sure, I really only need one just in case kids to drop by, but... they are two for $4. So I bought a bag of Almond Joys and Butterfingers. My two favorite candy bars. I also happened to find THE FUZZY GREEN CUPCAKE MONSTER OF DOOM*.

Naturally no children knocked on my door or rang my doorbell. And what do you do with two giant bags of mini candy bars that were two for $4? Well, you eat them, of course. Which is also what you do with a Fuzzy Green Cupcake Monster of Doom.

You eat them all weekend. And all Monday.

Hence, the sugar coma.

Blargh.....

*I'll post a picture later. You will understand.