Of Valentine's Day and Job Interviews
I have been reading a lot of really anti-Valentine's things on the internet, and have wanted to post something regarding that for a few days now, but I haven't had the chance. So here's the thing...yeah, it's a commercial holiday. They all are. Yeah, it's made up. They all are. Get over it, and share some red and pink lovin'! (It's a late sentiment, but, well, you know...)
So, as you can tell, I heart Valentine's mucho. I always have, always will. I always wear some sort of pink garment and curl my hair and I always decorate the house and pump out all manner of chocolate goodies for everyone I know. No exception this year. And my hubby came through, not in the manner of last year (when he proposed) but in a cool manner none the less. He fixed me dinner and bought me this great vintage 50's night gown. Where he found it, I have no idea, but it is perfect. Then we giggled our way through two bottles of wine and a few crazily concocted cocktails. It was low-key and wonderful.
Which brings me to the post Valentine's day hangover. This is the part I could do without. Both Matt and I woke up sick yesterday, and of course, blamed it not on our overindulgence the night before, but instead, the stomach flu. We totally knew we were hungover, but whatever. But anyway, I had to go to a Board meeting, so I get up and go, all the time feeling like I had been hit by a truck. It totally sucked. So I came home last night, and proceeded to lay in bed without moving. Now that, kind of rocked. Especially since it was Project Runway night (except that last night's episode was kind of boring, and I totally missed Nick...tear). Today I feel fine. I'm just amazed at myself for being so stupid three years in a row, and drinking massive quantities, and then waking up feeling like rubbish the next day. Oh well.
But onto more interesting, intospective things. As you probably know, I am looking for a new job, and so far have had four pretty dynamite interviews with another one today(fellow William and Mary people please note that yeah, that degree actually comes in handy). On Valentine's Day, I had an interview in a town about 20 miles away, but it was sooo worth it because the job is a very good one. Anywho, I drive to the interview, and I'm wearing my too-expensive suit, and my really ugly "professional" heels, and I'm listening to the radio, and just generally feeling good about myself. The temp is about 70, there's not a cloud in the sky, it's just your typical CA day. And then, I go across this little incline in the freeway, and I come down, and I can see all around--the area just opens up, and all of a sudden I can see the city and the bay and the bridges and all of that. And I don't know. All of a sudden I just felt so grown up. I just felt totally like, "I have arrived." Now, I know that sounds conceited or something, but I just felt so cool right at that moment. For the first time ever, I felt like somebody pretty damn special. It seems weird all written out like this, but it was just the coolest feeling.
So now, wierd feelings aside, I leave you with this:
Morgan's Top Ten Reasons the Olympics Suck Monkey Balls
1. I don't get to watch The Office tonight.
2. Half of the stupid winter olympics are not even sports. Curling, anyone? And all of those luge events? That's bullshit. Now I know someone's going to call me out on this and tell me all the practice it takes to be one of these people, but seriously, you're basically getting a gold medal to go for a sleigh ride. Perhaps I could go to Six Flags and ride a roller coaster and they'll give me a medal too.
3. The United States pretty much sucks at all this stuff, don't we? I mean, it just makes sense that some place like Russia where it's actually COLD might kick our ass or something.
4. I don't get to watch My Name Is Earl tonight.
5. All of that "personal triumph" stuff is so incredibly hokey. And you can't hide from it. I was trying to drive to work this morning, hoping to hear some Strokes before I have to hit the icy cold confines of the office, and instead I hear about this Russian ice skater who left home at 11 to devote his life to ice skatery. For fuck's sake--it's Russia. That dude had it good. Talk to me about the girl who left home at 11 to become a prostitute in the Ukraine. Now, that's shitty. Hell, if he had stayed home in his shitty Russian house eating month old sour cream and black bread, he would have had it worse. AND THAT'S WHAT EVERYONE ELSE DOES. So don't talk to me about sacrifice, radio bitch.
6. All of that international stuff. We're America. Since when do we give a flying fuck about the rest of the world? Oh yeah, since we decided to beat up on it both militarily and athletically.
7. I don't get to watch The Office next week either.
8. It makes me feel all guilty for not caring about my country when I hear the 6 people who actually watch this stuff talk about it. But yeah, not guilty enough to care.
9. Ice skaters piss me off. C'mon folks. America's Sweetheart? They're not even cute, with those big ol' tree trunk thighs and that short strange hair. Now, Lindsay Lohan. That's America's Sweetheart. She has everything we value in a woman--photogenicness, ability to be recognized for doing nothing very well at all, and fuckability. Don't try to cover your real desires by showing me some over-muscled pixie who probably can't spell the words "figure eight" because she's been slaving to her jerk-ass parents and douchebag coach for her entire life and calling her "America's Sweetheart." If that's America's Sweetheart, fuck it, I'm moving to France. Or at least Canada.
10. No Law and Order either, bitches.
So, as you can tell, I heart Valentine's mucho. I always have, always will. I always wear some sort of pink garment and curl my hair and I always decorate the house and pump out all manner of chocolate goodies for everyone I know. No exception this year. And my hubby came through, not in the manner of last year (when he proposed) but in a cool manner none the less. He fixed me dinner and bought me this great vintage 50's night gown. Where he found it, I have no idea, but it is perfect. Then we giggled our way through two bottles of wine and a few crazily concocted cocktails. It was low-key and wonderful.
Which brings me to the post Valentine's day hangover. This is the part I could do without. Both Matt and I woke up sick yesterday, and of course, blamed it not on our overindulgence the night before, but instead, the stomach flu. We totally knew we were hungover, but whatever. But anyway, I had to go to a Board meeting, so I get up and go, all the time feeling like I had been hit by a truck. It totally sucked. So I came home last night, and proceeded to lay in bed without moving. Now that, kind of rocked. Especially since it was Project Runway night (except that last night's episode was kind of boring, and I totally missed Nick...tear). Today I feel fine. I'm just amazed at myself for being so stupid three years in a row, and drinking massive quantities, and then waking up feeling like rubbish the next day. Oh well.
But onto more interesting, intospective things. As you probably know, I am looking for a new job, and so far have had four pretty dynamite interviews with another one today(fellow William and Mary people please note that yeah, that degree actually comes in handy). On Valentine's Day, I had an interview in a town about 20 miles away, but it was sooo worth it because the job is a very good one. Anywho, I drive to the interview, and I'm wearing my too-expensive suit, and my really ugly "professional" heels, and I'm listening to the radio, and just generally feeling good about myself. The temp is about 70, there's not a cloud in the sky, it's just your typical CA day. And then, I go across this little incline in the freeway, and I come down, and I can see all around--the area just opens up, and all of a sudden I can see the city and the bay and the bridges and all of that. And I don't know. All of a sudden I just felt so grown up. I just felt totally like, "I have arrived." Now, I know that sounds conceited or something, but I just felt so cool right at that moment. For the first time ever, I felt like somebody pretty damn special. It seems weird all written out like this, but it was just the coolest feeling.
So now, wierd feelings aside, I leave you with this:
Morgan's Top Ten Reasons the Olympics Suck Monkey Balls
1. I don't get to watch The Office tonight.
2. Half of the stupid winter olympics are not even sports. Curling, anyone? And all of those luge events? That's bullshit. Now I know someone's going to call me out on this and tell me all the practice it takes to be one of these people, but seriously, you're basically getting a gold medal to go for a sleigh ride. Perhaps I could go to Six Flags and ride a roller coaster and they'll give me a medal too.
3. The United States pretty much sucks at all this stuff, don't we? I mean, it just makes sense that some place like Russia where it's actually COLD might kick our ass or something.
4. I don't get to watch My Name Is Earl tonight.
5. All of that "personal triumph" stuff is so incredibly hokey. And you can't hide from it. I was trying to drive to work this morning, hoping to hear some Strokes before I have to hit the icy cold confines of the office, and instead I hear about this Russian ice skater who left home at 11 to devote his life to ice skatery. For fuck's sake--it's Russia. That dude had it good. Talk to me about the girl who left home at 11 to become a prostitute in the Ukraine. Now, that's shitty. Hell, if he had stayed home in his shitty Russian house eating month old sour cream and black bread, he would have had it worse. AND THAT'S WHAT EVERYONE ELSE DOES. So don't talk to me about sacrifice, radio bitch.
6. All of that international stuff. We're America. Since when do we give a flying fuck about the rest of the world? Oh yeah, since we decided to beat up on it both militarily and athletically.
7. I don't get to watch The Office next week either.
8. It makes me feel all guilty for not caring about my country when I hear the 6 people who actually watch this stuff talk about it. But yeah, not guilty enough to care.
9. Ice skaters piss me off. C'mon folks. America's Sweetheart? They're not even cute, with those big ol' tree trunk thighs and that short strange hair. Now, Lindsay Lohan. That's America's Sweetheart. She has everything we value in a woman--photogenicness, ability to be recognized for doing nothing very well at all, and fuckability. Don't try to cover your real desires by showing me some over-muscled pixie who probably can't spell the words "figure eight" because she's been slaving to her jerk-ass parents and douchebag coach for her entire life and calling her "America's Sweetheart." If that's America's Sweetheart, fuck it, I'm moving to France. Or at least Canada.
10. No Law and Order either, bitches.
posted by Southern Belle at 2:24 PM
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