Secession

Dear Oregon, I'm breaking up with you, for realz this time. While I enjoyed your tree-covered majesty, pollen saturation, comforting laws regarding toplessness, and tepid politics for most of my three decades on this planet, I have moved on to other pastures. Don't try and win me back,I went to the DMV this morning and made it official. Now onto the real point of this blog (just kidding, there is no point):I was the fifth person in line outside the DMV this morning and some guy was having his grandpa hold his place in line and when he got back in line, I, in traditional jackass fashion, informed him where the end of the line actually was. He started stammering and I was like, "OHMYGOD, I'm joking!" He laughed nervously and then proceeded to stare at me while I ate my disgusting 8 grain roll from Starbucks. (Do yourself a favor and only order the unhealthy shit from that place). He then leaned over and said, "Don't worry, I'm a joker, too." Oh boy. My early morning jackassery was misinterpreted for flirting. He then sat next to me once we were permitted inside. He introduced himself to me and then invited me to his family's Indian restaurant. I do love some Indian food, but I do not want to spend the rest of my days telling that ridiculous story to everyone who asks how I met my husband. Also, Jesse is the least-convincing Indian name I have ever heard. In all seriousness (just kidding, there is no seriousness): I was able to procure a Washington driver's license and Washington plates for my car in under two hours, and under two hundred dollars. Sick.

The Snooki 8K

I ran my first race dressed entirely in clothing/accessories purchased from Forever 21 yesterday (even though I have no desire to be either forever or 21). The occasion was the Torchlight run in Seattle and it was amazing. It is the shortest race I have ever done, and the joy of having ZERO expectations and the joy of running in a neon pink leopard print mini skirt were both way better than trying to force myself to poop at 5:45am the day of a marathon. After the race I went to the Michelob Ultra Beer Garden and re-hydrated with, you guessed it, Michelob Ultra, which makes my precious Bud Light taste like that hoppy crap that Ninkasi makes. This evening I am forcing myself to do transcriptions until Breaking Bad comes on, and then afterwards I will force myself to do more transcriptions. I am transcribing these interviews my advisor did, and so when I slow the recording down and she says something seemingly benign like "Oh, yeah, yeah" it sounds like I am listening to her have sex. This is disturbing, and very difficult to erase from my brain. In fact, I'm never going to get that space in my brain back to use for anything else, and now neither will you. HA. Other thoughts: how hilarious was it that the USA women's beach volleyball team wore long sleeve turtlenecks on the sand today? I'm sure there was a collective sigh of disappointment around the world followed by "this is horseshit" and changing of channels. I myself reveled in the mindless objectification of men in speedos during the water polo match. I didn't watch the game so much as I waited for the camera to pan over to the bench. Second string players have never looked so good.

File under: why I'm lame

After writing my last post and then going to bed and trying unsuccessfully to sleep (it's my new favorite game), I laid in my bed wondering if I had put a comma in 'Put me in, coach!' My worry was completely justified because as I suspected, I did not. So the title of my last blog post reads like a command for someone to put me in the coach section of an airplane, which is the only place I've ever sat, anyway. Other things that can be filed in the same location: I look forward to doing interview transcriptions. I cooked kale tonight and it was FUCKING DELICIOUS.

Put me in coach!!!

Alright, as penance for never ever blogging, I plan to reveal several embarrassing things about myself in order that you might keep reading: 1) I go tanning. At a place called Seattle Sun. "Seattle Sun" is one of the better oxymorons I've ever heard in my life. It is staffed by people that cannot legally purchase alcohol, but they are just so PERKY and FRIENDLY. Also, going tanning is somehow positively correlated with my self-esteem that is otherwise fucked up beyond repair. Also, I've decided that because it makes me sweat so much in a 7 minute period, it's like the most toxic detox ever. And that makes me happy. 2) I am bad at bowling. 3) I am even worse at being bad at something graciously. 4) All of my passwords involve really stupid combinations of childhood pet names and childhood addresses. Go nuts with that one, internet. 5) I have toenail fungus. But only in one toenail. The other toenails have evolved and are now impenetrable by this nasty fungus that I blame on someone whose name rhymes with Cave Cominguez. Ok, I cannot possibly divulge anything else.