the bottom of an ant's pants

Ant hem. HA HA HA HA.

I love Glee.

That's all.

OH, and I got an awesome necklace (a capsaicin molecule) for Valentine's Day and some potted tulips (that Mr. P thought was a hydrangea) and flowers and a bag of cinnamon hearts that I already ate.

summer FUNding

Rumor on the street (well not really the street, more like the hallway, or the announcement in our faculty meeting this morning) is that my proposal for summer funding was APPROVED. I am thrilled. It means I do not have to teach this summer, but I still get PAID.

YAY ME!!


(I still have to work, I just get to focus on research which I can do anywhere, and can get done this spring if I plan right and work hard!)

Is recycling just my religion?

One of my old coworkers (a coworker from a long time ago, not a coworker that is OLD) has arthritis, and once a month has to see her rheumatologist (I think that is the right word...arthritis doctor) and everytime she has an appointment she makes some comment on Facebook about how she is going to visit her favorite Muslim and she hopes she has a "divine" meeting. Someone asked her to explain, and she made some comment about getting him to see the way, or something equally obnoxious about making her doctor love Jesus. I remember once her and I having a conversation that it was my duty as a wife to serve Mr. P. I think I laughed right out loud. ANYWAY, her most recent visit is today, and just as I was about to DeFriend her, I got thinking about something I did to my friend on Friday night.

Friday night we went to a friend's house to play poker and we were having some snacks and beers. After I finished a beer, I asked him where to put the can. He said in the black container at the end of the counter. It was the trash can. I was really shocked. I said in a very loud super judgey voice, "YOU DON'T RECYCLE???" and he said, "No, I don't really care about the Earth...I don't have kids to leave it to anyway." Then, Mr. P, me and another friend harrassed him for 10 minutes about how easy it is to recycle and how he should and on and on and on. We were kind of relentless until he caved and said he would start.

Did I do the same thing to my friend about recycling that my co-worker is trying to do to her doctor...just swapping Mother Earth for Brother Jesus?

Tales of a slug

Seems I have spent SO MUCH time fretting over the beehive, and another situation I have yet to write a bug related metaphor for, that I forgot that I need to spend some time focused on ME. I have run three times IN A MONTH. I have been to the gym every week...for 30 minutes of personal training. I have eaten whatever and whenever I damn well pleased. My house is cluttery and dusty and the glass surfaces are so fingerprinty. When I get home in the dark darkness at 5pm, I sit on the couch with my iPad or laptop, find food to order online, and then spend the evening NOT thinking about anything of import. I go to bed at 10 and get up at 9. I am wearing yoga pants (that are too tight and bulge inappropriately) and tshirts every day unless I have to dress for class. My hair is perpetually in a pony tail, I haven't bothered with mascara in a week, and I think I could donate my leg hair to make wigs.

But the sun is out today and it is gorgeous. I went on a (short) run. I went to the gym (but I didn't get to workout, apparently I can't tell time). I went out for a salad. Then I went and picked out paint for 'the office' ---yes we have lived here for 6 months and that room is still a cluster. Then I stopped in Old Navy and they had some cutie pie dresses to wear with leggings, and I had ordered two more online from Lane Bryant that got here today. not a damn one fits appropriately. fuck me.

When I was cursing myself, I started thinking about this last year...I realized that I have let MY perceptions of other people's feelings cloud how I feel about myself. I used that mixed up shit to influence how I felt about running, boating, going on trips, eating, working, even freaking watching television. In all of that, I lost myself because I was so worried that my lifestyle was "wrong" or was hurting someone else's feelings.

I am going to try as hard as I can to let that go, and go back to living MY life the way I want. I don't want to be a slug. I don't really want to be a bee either. A butterfly is too cliche. Okay, the bug talk has gotten me off track...I am going to take a shower.

Honey or Jam?

Let's say, a honey bee that is part of a big hive of bees, was all of a sudden told...we do not really care for the honey that much anymore. We prefer jam. We know we brought you in to make honey, and actually we want you to keep making honey because we like that other hives know how good of a honey bee you are, BUT we are only going to give you clovers (bee money, DUH) if you are making some delicious JAM.

AND, AND, AND, we are going to require you to do a bunch more pollen collecting because remember we don't really like the honey and you really need to be making jam, even though everyone knows that honeybees don't even really know how to make very good jam.

When the hell does the freaking Dean QUEEN BEE expect that bee to make the jam????

sometimes.

Sometimes you find out that what you have worked for so hard is no longer valued.

Sometimes people lie and it just really hurts to know that you are so in the dark.

Sometimes you hear a song on the radio and it takes your breath away with the memories.

Sometimes you know that things can't stay the way they are, no matter how hard you fight to hold on to the past.

Sometimes, things hurt so much you can't bear it.

But sometimes, you find a pair of monkey slippers on your pillow after a horrible day, and you know you are loved.

And that, sometimes, is all that really matters.

Hotel sex is totally worth $12

I love hotels. I mean, I really, ridiculously love hotels. One of my favorite things about my job is that twice a year I get to go to really nice hotels courtesy of my school to attend conferences. I am in such a hotel right now. The Intercontinental Hotel in Atlanta. Here is my room (it was better before I junked it up with all my stuff, but I got here early to work, then I went to a reception and had THREE free Michelob Ultras so I am not cleaning up for pictures):




Here is the bathroom. I am totally have a bubble bath in that sucker tomorrow after my run. BOO.YAH.

But my favorite part of nice hotels? THE MINI BAR. I rarely get anything out of it, I just love knowing that I can. I get per diem when I am away, and I usually don't even come close to spending it, so if I want a $3 bag of M&M's then I am going to get them. (Last year I got a glass bear fully of horrid gummy bears for $9. Totally worth it.) This hotel offers a little something extra in the mini-bar that I have never seen before.....

BWAH HA HA...$12 for an "Intimacy Kit"? I totally want to know what you get for $12, because Mr. P is joining me tomorrow...wink wink. Sadly though, I can't find where the kit is...and there is no way I am asking about it.

So my slides are just about done, I am a little drunk, and I am waiting for my ROOM SERVICE club sandwich and mixed greens. Today, I love my job.

P.S. Texas Caviar is chopped onion, chopped peppers (whatever color(s) you want), chopped jalapeno, chopped habanero (only for the very brave), chopped cucumber, cans of black beans, black eyed peas, white corn and yellow corn (all drained). Salt, pepper and italian dressing. Easy peasy and delicious.