And to all a good night...

Every year, I write a Christmas Eve blog. This year is no different. Tonight, my parents and I enjoyed a feast of fried rice and garlic chicken at our favorite restaurant--Empress of China--conveniently located on Dort Highway. Nothing says Christmas like burying your face in a juicy, fat-covered Chinese rib and wiping your greasy fingers on a festive red cloth napkin. After all (like most people in the world do) when you say Christmas, I think: "Chinese ribs."

I wish I could say I'm overwhelmed by a Christmassy feeling. But truthfully, after I finished my Chinese rib, all my holiday cheer fell away like, well...like meat off of a juicy slow-cooked rib. Tonight just feels like another harsh and unforgiving winter evening, with no promise of gifts tomorrow morning or Hot Toddys tomorrow afternoon. Even the thought of spraying whipped cream into my mouth doesn't put me in a holiday mood.

After returning home, as we walked across the slick pavement of the parking lot toward our loft apartment, my dad noticed the makeshift Santa house that the Chamber of Commerce sets up downtown every year and that kids line up outside of in the days leading up to Christmas, eagerly awaiting their turn to tell Santa that they want a tutu or a bubble-gum dispenser or one of those learn-it-at-home Rosetta Stone language kits and said: "What if we blew up Santa's house tonight? Or burned it down?"

I probably should have been horrified, but all I could think was: I'd like to see that. Yes, I would like very much to set fire to Santa's little red house tonight.

But alas, we don't have the supplies or the know-how. So I guess it'll be another mundane Christmas this year. And the best part (the ribs) is already over.

Maybe God does love me...

So: it turns out I will be getting more Netflix discs before Christmas! Oh! What did I ever do to deserve such an embarrassment of riches?

That's A Fact

I know it makes me look really lame to post twice in one day, but guess what? I am lame.

Technically, it is tomorrow, anyway.

Sometimes when I am reading, I'll start to feel tired, so I'll think, "Ok, this is a good time to turn out the light and go to sleep." So I do...and then I am immediately not tired anymore and my mind keeps turning and turning, and I think of everything I've ever done wrong in my entire life. Then, to soothe myself I watch True Life: I'm Getting Out of Prison.

Dead Inside

It has been a long, long time since my last post, and for that I am very sorry. I know there are at least six people who read this, and I hate to disappoint. So, why has it been so long since I last posted, you may be wondering? Well, pretty much, things just got very hectic with nursing school. (I like to say that I'm in nursing school, when really I haven't been accepted yet and am just doing pre-requisites in hopes of getting accepted). This was the first semester since I graduated from Columbia College in 2005 (at least I think that's the year I graduated) that I took a "full-load" of credits. I took 12 credits, which by normal standards really isn't that much, but...those twelve credits kicked my ass. Mostly, it was Anatomy/Physiology that was the most time-consuming and difficult. My teacher was tough and made us really delve into every system of the body, down to the most delicate and minute details. I'm sure someday I'll be thankful for her demandingness, but right now I'm just thankful I'm done. I no longer have to get up at 6 am and drive an hour to listen to a lecture on pus (complete with power-point slides!)

Another reason I haven't been blogging lately: I fear that I am dead inside. Winter is depressing. Every time I go outside and see that we have another foot of snow on the ground or get pummeled by winds so forceful and icy they make me wish I was dead all over (not just on the inside), I want to go back into my little apartment (which sometimes reminds me of the cave where Milo the cat, of "Milo and Otis" fame spends a harsh winter with his brood) and sleep until spring. I want to run on the trails, but they are covered in ice. I want to visit friends, but the roads are crappy. I want to watch ER, but Netflix is slow as fuck (lately)! Dead inside.

The one bright spot in my life: DEXTER. I have probably said this before, and if you're a regular reader of this blog you've probably noticed my little shrine to Dexter, but Dexter is the best show on Television...possibly the best show in the history of television. If you don't like blood and gore, I don't care. You still need to watch Dexter. If you don't believe in capital punishment, I don't care. You still need to watch Dexter. If you don't think Michael C. Hall (as Dexter) is the sexiest, most badass, slyest, cleverest man-hunk on TV (or planet Earth), you are crazy. Because he is. Michael C. Hall is a FANTASTIC actor. Every other actor on TV or in theater or movies pales in comparison to the superbness that is Michael C. Hall. If he doesn't win the Golden Globe this year, he will have been robbed. Yet again. If you've never seen Dexter, you've got a hell of a ride ahead of you...and I'm jealous. WATCH IT.

Where Jim goes, I shall follow.

To the writers and producers of Ghost Whisperer:

(*Spoiler Alert!*) I had bad dreams last night because of you, and I was in a foul mood this morning because of you. How DARE you kill off Jim! How DARE you. Jim is adorable and lovable and he and Melinda actually have a good relationship. Make that HAD a good relationship. You had better know what you're up to, CBS, because you've pissed off a lot of people. By the way, detectives don't just blindly shoot at people they can't even see! Ridiculous! Here's hoping you've got some kind of miracle up your sleeve, because if not, you've lost another long time viewer.

Sincerely,

Jim's Homegirl

Ghouls

Halloween is coming up, so here are some scary movies to watch out for:

The Uninvited

I like her and all, but Elizabeth Banks is in EVERYTHING. David Strathairn is my best friend, though. AND, we've got a GG alum in this flick (Gilmore Girls, for those of you reading this who aren't Kate)--Arielle Kebbel, aka "Lindsay" the girl who married Dean after Rory dumped him for Jess...and who Dean later divorced after having cheated on her with Rory.

Friday the 13th

Finally, a remake of this! Let's hope it's good. Jared Padelecki as the main star in this makes me a bit nervous. I mean, I love you Dean, but the last horror movie you did was House of Wax. Friday the 13th is beloved, so let's not mess it up!

The Haunting in Connecticut

This horror movie has it all--the unassuming "innocent" family who "doesn't deserve this," a fridge full of rotten food, scary birds, a hatchet, ghosts, seances (what do you MEAN they had SEANCES in this house?! We're MOVING!), girls getting caught in the shower curtain, and Elias Koteas. What more could we want?

Rumors

Something that I have learned about people: they like to say things.

It doesn't matter if what they're saying is correct, just so long as they get a chance to say it.

The accelerated 2nd degree BSN (bachelor of science, nursing) program that I am attempting to get into is very competitive. They only let in 50 kids per semester. And, it is merit-based, meaning that if you finish the prerequisite classes, but only with the bare minimum GPA that you need in order to be eligible for acceptance, you are not guaranteed a spot in the program. This makes kids very cutthroat. It also makes them say things. For example:

"I heard they've already filled the year 2009, and now they're admitting kids to Fall of 2010."

"Well I heard they've already filled 2010, and now they're admitting for 2011."

"I heard you get in right away if you're double-jointed."

"I heard they only admit vegetarians."

These rumors extend way beyond just the likelihood of getting into the accelerated BSN program. People also like to say things about our teachers and the classes we're required to take. For example:

"I know for a fact that she puts trick questions on the tests."

"I heard he grades his tests at the bar."

"I heard you only get an A if you go to office hours every day."

"Well I heard only redheads get As, and then only if they know how to ride a unicycle."

Today in Chemistry, the shit hit the fan. Turns out there was some kind of technical malfunction that happened when our scantrons from the first exam were fed into the machine. The answer key was incorrect or something. So, kids ended up getting lower grades than they should've. We knew how many questions we'd gotten wrong, because our teacher had gone over the answers with us in class prior to feeding our scantrons in the machine. SO, when the scantrons came back all messed up, our teacher said he'd figured out a way to ensure everyone got the scored they deserved (if not an even better score than they deserved). He would add 10 points to each person's score, since 3 questions were off on the answer key given to the scantron machine (the scantron machine had different answers than the correct answers for those 3 questions, so everyone who actually answered them correctly got them wrong). So if you got 100% it would say on your scantron that you got a 91% (33 questions on the test, 3 pts per question, and 1 bonus point). BUT, some overachiever girl raised her hand and complained that "people who had actually gotten 91% originally would now have 100% with the added 10 points," and she "didn't think that was fair." Her 100% would be in-tact, but she didn't like the fact that maybe people who had legitimately answered incorrectly one or all of the 3 questions "in question" were now getting a free ride. The teacher told her to be nice and get over it.

BUT, rumor has it:

"Now he's not giving anyone those 10 points, because of that one girl!"

"He's just going to throw out the first exam entirely and our grades will be averaged from the next 3 exams!"

"He's just counting those 3 problems as wrong, even if you got them right."

Ugh. I can hardly stand it. I should've had a 98% on the test. I only got one wrong. But if I have to take a 90 or 91% at this point, I will. Hey, an A is an A. I can't help but think a lot of these problems could be avoided if people would just resist the urge to "say things."