Happy Halloween!

October 31st has totally snuck up on me this year! I've had my whole month goofy, really. I can't get down what day it is, and I keep thinking it's a week later than it actually is. I don't know how I got so confused.

It may have been because last weekend was the weekend I actually did anything Halloween related. I took a trip down to Austin with my friend, Megan, and we screamed our heads off at Austin's House of Torment. It was awesome.

I will now tell you about it.

First of all, the drive was excellent. It was mostly cloudy most of the way, which is my favorite weather to drive in. The traffic wasn't heavy. And the speed limit was 70. It actually didn't take us that long to get there. Very nice!

We'd bought our tickets on-line, which turned out to be a very good thing as the line to purchase tickets was super long.

The first thing we saw when we arrived was the hearse. Observe.

Glad I didn't arrive in this.

We were also pretty impressed by the massive, creepy pumpkin-headed thing standing watch over the entrance. I took a picture of it when it was still light outside—the better to see it with.

My, what big teeth you have...

Even waiting in line to enter was fun. They had ghosties and ghoulies roaming around the lines, scaring people. You weren't even safe if you decided to make use of one of the several porta-potties they had. The monsters would go bang on the doors, or wait for you to emerge and then proceed to scare any remaining crap out of you whilst chasing you back to the line.

It was awesome.

We are waiting in line. We are ready to be scared.

They let us in in groups of about ten, and there were two different attractions we walked through. They had monsters coming at us from everywhere. They'd spring out of the walls, swoop down from overhead, or run past you only to turn back around and follow you until you were out of their room. It scared the crap out of me.

I think the creepiest, most effective part was when they would sneak up behind you—me, specifically, because this happened to me SEVERAL times—and you wouldn't notice until you felt breathing on your neck. Holy crap. Scared me every time.

They had a great mix of live actors and animatronics. And noises. I screamed a lot. I probably made a fool out of myself. I walked through the second attraction with my hands poised by my face, ready to cower, or maybe punch, at a moments notice. (I never punched. I only screamed and cowered. But my self defense teacher would have been proud that I was in fighting stance the entire time.)

Also, I would just like to say that whoever was in charge of doing make up and costuming did a stellar job. Even before the sun went down, the actors looked amazing. They didn't just look like people dressed up to be scary. They looked like straight up, disturbed, scary as heck monsters.

Megan and I particularly enjoyed BoBo the clown. We got a picture with him.

BoBo 'n me.

All in all, it was so much fun. Getting scared is pretty rad, especially when you know you're not in any real imminent peril. And my throat was only a little sore the next day...you know, from screaming like a little girl. I would definitely recommend this haunted house to anyone who loves haunted houses. I, for one, would love to go back again next year!

After we got done there, we hit up Starbucks—because really, when don't I?—and decided to head back to College Station to catch a late showing of Paranormal Activity 2.

Yikes.

Megan and I had seen the first one in theaters together last year and both left seriously disturbed. I didn't sleep well that night, I'm just sayin'.

I refuse to give out any spoilers because I hate when things are spoiled for me, but I thought PA2 was a lot of fun, with a substantial number of scare-you-out-of-your-seat moments.

And it was an excellent way to wrap up our Halloween night. Granted it was a week early, but... That was Halloween for me. This weekend I'm not really doing anything Halloween related.

Instead I am going to a NaNoWriMo Kick-Off Party tonight! I will be having pancakes and gearing up for the first night of writing furiously. I already have my first chapter planned out in my head and am simply dying to get started. Midnight cannot come fast enough.

I hope everyone has a fun, safe, and frightfully excellent Halloween! Any of you guys have big plans? Haunted houses? Trick-or-Treating? Are any of you getting excited for NaNoWriMo?

My Cure for the Blues

The test that started it all.

So today was very "Ugh." Every day that I have Business Math is kind of that way, but today more so. Going to that class just intimidates me. I've really been trying, I've been doing all of the homework, and it just isn't clicking. It's very frustrating, especially because I absolutely have to pass this class. It's a requirement for my degree. My English degree. Yeah, don't ask me.

Today when my professor arrived, he was carrying a massive stack of papers—our tests. Finally graded. But he didn't hand them out until the end, so I spent the whole class distracted, worrying about my grade.

I thought I got a bit of a break when he told us he'd forgot to bring the quizzes. We have a quiz every Tuesday. Instead of just making us take them Thursday or something, he told us he'd give us all a 100 on the quiz. Super! Frankly, I need all of the 100s I can get.

But then he passed out the tests, completely negating any happiness I was beginning to feel.

I failed.

Bad.

To be honest, I was sure I'd done awful. I wasn't confident about my test at all, I knew I'd struggled when I took it and that I hadn't been able to answer everything. But even still, seeing that grade in red ink on my exam  book was like getting punched in the gut.

I hadn't realized it until today, but I've never failed a test in college. I made a D once, during my Freshman year. But I wasn't trying very hard then, and I didn't know how to study. Now I do, and now I try hard, and I'd tried hard, and that wasn't enough. I made an F.

Needless to say, I left class feeling completely and utterly defeated. And I called my Mom. And I cried.

And I was extra stressed because I had homework to do, and reading to get done, and papers to write. I didn't feel like I had the time to calm down and reassess.

I made myself get my homework done and then I decided I had better make time to settle down because I don't know if you know this or not, but it's super hard to get anything done when you're all weepy and down on yourself.

Enter my cure for the blues.

Starbucks.

It's so easy, really. I'm kind of an emotional roller coaster. It doesn't take much to get me down, but it doesn't always take much to get me happy again, either.

I can always count on Starbucks to cheer me up when I've had a bad day. Or to make my day better when I've had a good one. Frappuccinos, in particular, always seem to hit the spot.

Today my cure for the blues was, specifically, a Caramel Mocha Frappuccino. Minus the whipped cream. Completely delicious. In fact, this one might be one of the better ones I've ever had.

Behold. The Frappuccino in all its GLORY.

And since today was a particularly crummy one, I added a slice of pumpkin loaf to my order. My favorite pastry. Well, at least one of them. Starbucks has so many good pastries...

The barista today was super friendly, which is always awesome. And I got a seat by the window. One of my favorite things to do is sit and enjoy my coffee at Starbucks. I just think the atmosphere is really comfortable and cool. Even when it's a little too noisy for my taste, I can still manage to enjoy my coffee and my "me" time, which—if you know me—is rare. I mean, rare that I can tune out noise when I'm trying to relax. But for some reason, in Starbucks, I can do it.

Fortunately today I didn't have to. It was nice and quiet. There were several people there, but most were other college students studying. It was nice.

My view from my table. Love this Starbucks!

Soon enough, I found myself calming down. Sipping my coffee. Stuffing my face with my slice of pumpkin loaf.

You know? Failing a test sucks. But it isn't the end of the world. It's just the first test, I can still bring my grade up. Hopefully. But either way, Business Math isn't the end all, be all. I'll have a life after college. Heck, I'll have a life after my math class. Even if the worst case scenario comes true and I actually can't pass Business Math this semester, there are alternatives. I can take it somewhere else, at a junior college or online. Or I can retake it next semester and hope to do better.

Neither of those are options I'm really keen on, but they are options.

On the bad days, the ones where you see a brick wall when you try to look for the light at the end of the tunnel, those are the days that it really pays off to just take some time and gain some perspective.

So that's exactly what I did. And I realized something. Or, I guess, RE-realized something—I'm not in control, but that's okay because God is. And he's way more qualified for the job.

                      And you know what?

Life is good.

No Rest for the Weary

The culprit.

It all started with that fateful bite of ice cream. Starbucks ice cream, to be specific. Mocha Starbucks ice cream, to be even more specific. Yes, it had been a long day and so in lieu of dinner, I decided to indulge in a little bit of ice cream. It's been awhile, and I was totally craving some. Plus I had a coupon, which we all know is the perfect excuse to purchase something we probably shouldn't.

That little unassuming pint of ice cream was only the beginning. I didn't eat much of it; possibly a fourth of its creamy and delicious contents. I was watching Cake Boss and enjoying my evening. I had planned to go to bed around midnight, since I had class the following morning and needed to get up around 7:30. But, funny thing, midnight rolled around and I realized I wasn't tired at all.

I found this odd since somewhere a little after ten I started feeling very ready to wind down. But you know how those marathons on cable are—three, four episodes in a row? I can't say no. So there it was, midnight, I needed to wake up in the morning, but I wasn't in the least bit ready for bed.

So I decided to clean. It was on my list of things to do the next day anyway, and I figured it might tired me out. So I started with my desk, which was an unholy mess. I finished that, got the trash ready to take out in the morning, cleaned up my coffee table. I cleaned the kitchen, put all of my movies where they belong. And I still wasn't tired.

Then I got to thinking...which, no, hadn't occurred to me to do before. And I went to the freezer and opened it up, grabbed the pint and read the ingredients. Surely not, I was telling myself. It's just ice cream.

But there it was. Somewhere in the middle of that list of ingredients that most people probably never look at. Caffeine.

Now, I'm a total Starbucks addict. Hardcore fan. Loyal customer. But for the past six weeks, I have been coffee-free. Trying to get my caffeine addiction under control, save some money, keep my blood sugar in check, cut calories, and so on, and so on. So I hadn't really been drinking any caffeine so to speak. Which is why the little bit of coffee concentrate in Starbucks ice cream hyped me up and kept me from falling asleep.

BLAST! That was totally unintentional. I had been looking forward to going to bed. In the end, I didn't end up actually falling asleep until around 3:30. And even then, it wasn't a very peaceful sleep. I was still kind of wired.

Then, around five in the morning, I realize that my sweet little baby Tucker...is throwing up. In my bed. Under the sheets. Near my feet.

This is kind of how I feel right now.

Not good.

So, it's five. I've had a couple of hours of sleep, maybe. Not very satisfying sleep. And now I'm wiping up chunks of dog barf, trying not to gag, and feeling just awful for my poor little puppy. Tucker had retreated to the living room and was sitting against a wall, shivering. He does this when he knows he's done wrong. And he knew making a mess in my bed was wrong. What he didn't know is I didn't blame him for a second—he couldn't help feeling sick. He thought he was in trouble, so I had to spend some time sweet-talkin' him before he'd settle down.

I stripped the sheets off of my bed. I put Tucker in the kitchen, put up the baby-gate-turned-doggy-gate so he couldn't get out, and brought him his little bed. He seemed to be feeling okay, but I didn't want to run the risk of him throwing up on my sofa. Or the carpet. After I'd relocated him to the kitchen, I relocated myself to the sofa. At about 5:30 I was curled up under my throw, trying to fall asleep again. Several minutes pass and then I hear this loud crashing sound.

I live right behind a Target. And apparently that Target, for some horrible, inhuman reason, has their dumpsters emptied in the morning. This morning it happened to be at 5:45. I wanted to scream. If you've never heard one of those big trucks snatching up a huge dumpster, tipping it upside down, and slamming it back down on the concrete...well, you're not missing much.

They don't always do this so early in the morning, but what's even worse is not only do I have the dumpsters behind Target, but also six—count 'em, six—behind my apartment that belong to my complex; three on either side. So when they do come to pick them up, whenever that may be, it's pretty darn loud. Which is what you'll see if you watch my video. This isn't from this morning, but this is pretty much the usual clatter, clang, banging that accompanies garbage pick-up.

But for some reason this morning, they just had to pick up garbage before the sun was even up. I was not a happy camper. And I had to be up in a few hours.

Instead of getting up at 7:30 like I'd planned, I slept until nearly 9. Then I nearly literally dragged my tired behind to class—Self Defense. Which is fun, sometimes, but the workout/warm-ups she puts us through make it painfully obvious that I'm really out of shape. So I have a hard time looking forward to going to class.

This is kind of what
I learned today.

This morning was no different. And I was even less enthused because the only person I know in that class wasn't going to be there. And I was dead tired. To top it all off, the warm up she had us do this morning was such a struggle for me that I had to step out into the hallway, get some air, and suppress the urge to hurl. Totally fun.

And I have every reason to believe that I'm going to be sore tomorrow. Which is a good feeling, yes, but also...mildly painful.

After class, instead of coming home to take a nap like I so desperately wanted to do, I had to spot clean the barf off of my sheets, toss them in the dryer, spot clean the mattress pad, and spot clean my comforter. All of those I washed, except for my comforter, which is dry-clean only. Yeah, not great. So that'll have to go to the cleaners later. In the mean time, I don't have a spare one so...what exactly I'm going to use as a blanket is up in the air.

So. That was my really not fun day. Which also included finishing the review for my Self Defense exam tomorrow. And studying it.

Here's hoping tomorrow isn't near as hectic.

Back to Reality

Giving up my small bit of summer wasn't easy. But it had to be done. Vacations are always too short anyway, not matter how long they last. Mine was two weeks. In the past few days, I have done a whole slew of things. Okay, maybe not a whole slew. But a bunch. Allow me to expound on the subject.


Firstly, and fabulously, I am DONE, officially, with Spanish 3. Now if I can just tackle the beast that is Spanish 4, I will also, officially, be done with the foreign language classes that my degree requires. This will be cause for celebration, you better believe it. How did I do, you may ask? Not bad! A solid A, that's how I did. Now I'm just keeping my fingers crossed that Spanish 4 will have a similar outcome.

Secondly, I started my summer class at A&M. Self Defense. Today was our third class day, but our first day of actual physical activity. Can I just say, I am shamefully out of shape? Man! I had my butt handed to me during our warm up session. Yeah, just the warm up session! Which involved jogging, squats, jumping jacks, sit ups, push ups, and some yoga and stretching. OUCH. But what I'm really sore from is throwing punches. We worked on jabs and such today, and my shoulders are killing me. Apparently I'm not used to defending myself. Whether by punching or by blocking. Thank goodness I have a weekend off to nurse my poor little body. Let's just hope by Tuesday I've got what it takes to have my butt handed to me again.

Third, much less exciting, I got my first speeding ticket. Like, ever. Which, to be fair, is kind of a miracle in itself. What kills me is, as mad as I am about it, I'm not mad at the officer who wrote me the ticket. I mean, let's be fair—Did I deserve it? I sure did. It just happened to come on a day that was already not going so well for me. So you can imagine the pity party I threw for myself. I'm still working on getting it sorted out, sending off a request to take defensive driving instead. Can't wait to add that to my list of things to do this summer. Spanish 4, Self Defense, and Defensive Driving. See? The list keeps getting longer!

In addition to the slew of things I've done this week, I also have a list of things I WILL do this week. Like, for example, this weekend. This weekend is a big weekend. Because this weekend one of my best friends is getting MARRIED! Yes! Exciting! Tomorrow we're getting together to give her some more presents, and Saturday is the wedding. I can't believe so many of my friends are married. I feel way too young to marry, but that could be because I still see myself as a teenager sometimes. Could it be that it's finally time to grow up? (I mean that rhetorically, of course...)

So this weekend is all about her, which is great for me. Because she's way more fun than any stinky old class or run in with the law.

Shout out in the form of CONGRATULATIONS to my friend, Christine, and her very-soon-to-be hubby, Mark. They make an excellent couple and I have no doubt at all that they'll have an exceptional life together. I can't wait to see them get married on Saturday!

That's the biggest on my list of things I'm going to do this week. Another is that my iPhone 4 is supposed to arrive at some point tomorrow. If you know me, you know this means I'm as excited as a kid at Christmas. I just hope I don't miss the FedEx guys.

But look at me. I'm just rambling now. Probably due to lack of sleep. So that's it. My journey back to reality. Vacation was nice, vacation was short as always, and once again I can't wait for my next vacation. Which should roll around, oh, a couple of weeks before my Fall semester. Oh well, I'll take what I can get.

Don't Laugh: It could happen to YOU.

Well folks, it's happened. Believe it or not, I am now fabulously 21 years old! Well, okay, like...a week ago today. So I'm 21 and 7 days. Anyway, remember that post where I talked about growing up and how at 21 I'd be running low on excuses? Well let me just say, while all of that may still be true, I don't feel any different. I'm thinking I should have known, because really when does any birthday really feel like you're older? Technically, you're only a day older than you were the day before. It's just been a year since that day...the year before. I suppose it's much more mental than anything. Like, it may have only been one more day, but it was also the day that I became 21. I was thinking about it, and I realized that sometimes the dignity and grace that come with "growing up" isn't always optional.

Yes, that means I have an anecdote. Are you ready for this? And I'll preface it - this didn't happen to me after 21...but come on, 20 is still pretty "adult", right? Okay, now it's time to casually transition from "I'm 21! Huzzah!" to "Can you believe this happened? Me either!"

So this particular incident happened at work. I got to work, all was well. In fact, I was bookin' it pretty well that night (I change the "on sale for ___" signs) and decided I had enough time to make a potty break. I don't think it's necessary to go into that except to say that that too went fine. In fact, I was unaware that there was an issue until...oh...I don't know, about twenty minutes later. Again, since I was making good time, I paused at the shoe department to quickly browse through the clearance shoes. I don't remember what I found, but I know I tried one on because I had to track down a mirror. Can't buy shoes without seeing how they look on ya, right? So there I am, with my one black shoe and my one try-on shoe, and I turn to get a profile view and that's when I see it.

The toilet paper.

No, not stuck to the bottom of my shoe, that would be too normal.

No, this particular length of toilet paper is tucked in the back of my pants.

IN THE BACK OF MY PANTS.

I didn't even know what to say. It was a good four squares long-- don't ask me how that happened-- and centered pretty flawlessly. 

So I'm busy thanking my lucky stars that I decided to me a not-so-model employee by perusing the shoes when I start to think back on how long it had been since I went to the restroom. That's when I realize it was at least fifteen minutes, probably more like twenty. Then I realize that right before I hit the shoe department, I had a conversation with one of my co-workers. And it hits me. Not only did I have a lengthy piece of toilet paper stuck in the back of my pants, but also that the chances that someone (probably multiple someones) saw it --and didn't say anything-- are pretty darn high.

Wow.

So, I told that story to some of my friends because I mean really, that's a pretty good story. How many people can tell that story? Sure, stuck to the shoe is most common, and maybe even in the pants isn't too rare, but at work? On the job? For half of half an hour, or more? Top that!

Then I sort of forgot (repressed) about it. I thought, "Hey, that'd be kind of funny to blog about but...meh!"

But then it happened again. Not at work, no that would have been too abysmally perfect. This time it was at home. And it was nowhere near fifteen minutes. But just the same. Having it happen twice was just too much not to share.

So I've shared it. My ultimate Humiliation at Work story. Plus a little bonus tidbit. For your pleasure, enjoyment, to cheer you up, or make you happier you're you and not me. Whatever the case may be, there it is. My secret shame.

Laugh. By all means, laugh. It's funny.

Just don't laugh too hard... It could happen to you! :-)