Resigning Tater Tots

I miss my family. I just have this feeling that I'm going to come home in a week and everything's going to be different somehow. Maybe it's because I'll have mon petit copain with me.

That's the archaic way to say that.















Earlier, I was trying to fall asleep, and so I started thinking in French. I thought about how to say "Where are we?" Or, rather "Where is it that we are?"
Ou est-ce-que nous sommes?
And then when I fell asleep, I had a dream that I was having a really deep conversation with Mike on the rooftop of a yellow house.
And I had a pet squirrel.
It was weird.

*looks out window*
Oh. My. Gosh. That girl has blue hair- HOW is she able to work on campus looking like that?
I guess Human Resources is "embracing diversity".
Barf.

I think I sound really cute on the phone. I'm all polite, nice and girly.
I know that sounds really narcissistic of me, but I have a true story to support this idea.

I was at work today, answering phones, and there was this guy on the other end whining about how long the financial aid takes to get refunds sent out and why is the process in place and UGA is so much cooler and on and on and on. When I finally was able to get a word in, his phone was echoing real bad, and it was like I was talking to myself with a slight delay, which was so very startling.

So after letting him vent for about 5 minutes about our department changing the policies (I mean- I've got all the time in the world to listen, right?), I put him on hold and ask my supervisor where I should transfer him, and she told me to go to the Bursar because "We don't get paid enough to do this." Haha.

I tend to get really happy when I get to transfer people because it means that I don't have to talk to them anymore. So I take him off hold and I'm like, "Ok sir- I'm actually going to transfer you to the Bursar and you can talk to her about that, ok?" And I said it really fast so that I wouldn't mess up, so I got to listen to the echo of myself in the phone.

And I sound kind of adorable.
FLASH 8****.

(That means I just transferred you.)

I haven't been myself this summer so far. I can't remember the last time I went in a pool. I haven't even been outside today, unless you count the time I spent pumping up my bike tires, and then I got bitten by mosquitoes, so even that was a bad experience.
I would make time to go lay out by the pool, but I need skin cancer like I need my iPad.

And so inside here I sit, swiveling in my swivel chair.

Time to pretend,
TWS

A Momentary Lapse in Cynosure

I should be featured on a cooking show. I'd perform a segment called "How to dice a jalapeño into perfectly sized little parallelograms". I was making chili this afternoon and because the store didn't have chili peppers, I had to use a jalapeño (but technically I am still making "chili" because I used chili powder {as opposed to jalapeño powder?}). It's close enough. Anyway, I sliced the pepper open and took all the little seeds out, and then I discovered that if you roll the pepper flat and slice from opposite corners twice, you end up with delightful, seedless pepper pieces, perfect for flavor or garnish.

I'm a genius.

Well, somewhat.

I'm still unable to dice an onion without practically bleeding from my eyes. My sunglasses method only works about half way through the onion, but it allows me to take breaks in order to supply you with a b/a picture of the event.















It makes onion-chopping look so effortlessly cool.

I've also come across the best oatmeal in the world. If you like oatmeal, or food that tastes good in general, you should definitely take me up on this. It tastes like someone put cake frosting and vanilla ice cream on pancakes that had a long-term relationship with a doughnut that had a creamy, buttery affair with a waffle who breathed cinnamon and farted sugar.

"But, Allie J, aren't you allergic to cinnamon?"

Yep.

And you're welcome, Better Oats, for the publicity*.

*The reason I did not use the colloquial phrase "free advertising" is because in Marketing, we learned that advertising is a paid service, so sticking "free" on the front of it makes it a paradoxial term, which apparently isn't cool. So when someone promotes your product without a monetary incentive, it's just called "publicity".

The more you know!

I've spent the greater part of my Memorial Day doing tiresome loads of caviling homework. It reminds me faintly of the summer projects of high school AP classes. Do you remember those? Specifically: The Miracle at Philadelphia? Or Life of Pi? Or A Prayer for Owen Meany?
Oh, the horror!

While we're in a nostalgic mode, remember the song "I like the way you move"? Why did they ever think that was appropriate for football games?

And, Davin, I did not poke you; I merely messaged you. That was all.

I just realized I haven't spoken to anyone all day, but I know I've been speaking a lot, so that means that I've been talking to myself all day.
*shrug*
I amuse myself.

And here is another way I amuse myself: I was studying for accounting yesterday and I was reading through the following notes that I had taken in Dr. Lynch's class:

-Trial Balance: ensures total debits = total credits for the period.
-Follows distinct order: assets, liabilities, equity, revenues, expenses, dividends.
-Lynch's pants are like 1 cm too short today.
-Cash basis: revenues and expenses are recorded when cash is received or paid.

And I kept going like normal with notes on accrual basis accounting. I seriously love the way I take notes. I did the same thing in my financial accounting class when I recorded the day my teacher's shoe disintegrated into small pieces of black rubber all over the floor. I make journal entries amidst journal entries.

And yes, that was an accounting reference.

I'm going to spend the latter part of the day away from keyboard with the greatest man I have ever known and have come to love.

Errol Flynn, my guitar, of course!

Who else would it be?

"Turtles on the rocks" would make for an interesting drink,
T.T.

The Little Things

Dear Reader,

I thought that I should inform you that the comments from you that I love so much, left on my posts like little dry piles of deer poop, are dwindling. I'm not sure if it's because you don't have much to say about what I have to say, or if you're just inebriated by how much I don't have to say. Whatever the case may be, I am requesting that you make an effort to start leaving such comments so that I know what you enjoy most, so I can maximize your customer experience.

Oh no- I'm sounding like a marketing major.

There just seems to be a lack of communication betwixt us, and that communication gap is more annoying than the one between the Lara Stone's two front teeth in Vogue. YIKES.

So to set an example of what you should be doing, I'm going to leave a little pile of poetry in this post. It shall be italicized so you can tell the difference between my creative remarks and my remarkable creativity.

Sincerely,
Your Whimsical Scribbler

P.S. Is T.T. an obsolete pen name now? *GASP* You should vote on it! How? By LEAVING A COMMENT, of course!

Here's a list of things that have happened in a short amount of time:
1. The cat featured in the previous post died. I think the reason was runtage. :(
2. Benjamin Peter Martin FINALLY came into existence. I think the reason was humpage. :)
3. School + Work have consumed my soul. I can barely remember what I look like. Good thing I have a PICTURE:





All of the four-leafed clover in the world
could not make me as lucky as I feel when I'm with you.







That's actually a goofy picture of me at The Mellow Mushroom, but I figure you get more flies with honey than vinegar. Not only did that aphorism not make sense in this context, but it actually doesn't make sense at all. I mean- who would actually want flies?

THAT REMINDS ME.

*dramatic lighting*

So the other day I wake up early to do the 14 buttloads of homework that has become the social norm in my life, and I'm doing my normal breakfast thing in my room. Then I start hearing some crazy whirring and banging around in the kitchen at like 8 freaking 30 in the morning, and then there's this SMELL, and so I go out to the kitchen, and our entire apartment is filled with smoke.

I honestly don't know how she does it. My roommate, that is.

There were like two halves of cabbage boiling in some brown who knows what on the stove, and I think there was some fish or maybe shrimp and then a terrible amount of vegetables strewn about. I was litrally (said like Chris Trager from Parks and Rec) coughing because of all the smoke, and the blue onion-y haze stung my eyes. She apologized, and turned the fan on and then opened the windows, which kind of sucked because it's May in Georgia, right? So we have the air conditioner running, and then all cool air goes out the window...and all the flies come in.

So now we have flies. Or, rather, a fly. There might have been more at the time, but they've been dropping like flies.

HBARF.

But the flies weren't even the worst part to the story. The SMELL and the way it STAYED IN MY HAIR ALL DAY was what was so terrible. You guys know how I am about the way my hair smells.

Also, I hate how everyone started using the word 'caveat' all of the sudden. It's NOT that cool of a word, people! 'Hornswaggle', on the other hand, is a cool word, and everyone should find a place of context and start using it immediately.

My dad still doesn't look like a grandpa,
T.T.

Three Stamps Left

I have many pictures for you today. I know how much you all love my visual aides, as opposed to loving regular AIDS, so I thought I'd spoil you. Just a little bit.

Here's a true story:
My sister had sardines in mustard sauce for lunch today, which would've been fine, if she had taken out the trash after the event. It smelled like Deadliest Catch in our kitchen. Well, really, it just smelled deadly, but I like to be theatrical about things.

Yesterday, I obtained a cat from my other sister. Still no nephew yet, but here is a photo of Bobo:















He was the runt of a litter, and his fur kind of makes him look like a buffalo.
But look at that little face!















He's happily asleep in my lap as I write about him. He's in that cute stage where his head is almost as big as his body, and he hasn't grown into his ears yet. He has no idea how adorable he really is.

Oooh- there was some double meaning in that. You guys have to really watch out for that kind of thing!

And, HARK, I have PROGRESS on my project! This documentary has actually become way too much fun. PICTURE TIME!

"Um, Allie J, didn't you already post some pictures?"
Hey. Be nice.

So this was what I was set on to work today.
I made some straps and the contrast piece yesterday. The challenge? Attaching it all together.















Fun Pun Scenario:
Me: "This is a picture of me making gathers."
Audience: "So we gathered."















Gotta love that neck fat.
I'll show you the back of the dress some day, but not today.

AND LOOK HOW EVEN MY SEAMS ARE!
I'm very happy with the way these turned out.















And since Darcy was being her busty self, I had to be my own model today.
So here is the completed bodice: MYSPACE PIC!















Pretty spiffy, eh? The straps aren't connected in the back, which is why I'm holding it together with my other hand. Although the bodice is completed, it's a little risqué to wear without the bottom, so that's why I'm wearing the bright green shirt underneath. I also thought the contrast might make it stand out more. Which it did. So I win.

And that's all for today. Tomorrow? UNDERLINING!

Q: What do clouds wear under their clothes?
A: THUNDERPANTS!

Today would be such a good day to be a dinosaur.

Pirates can happen to anyone,
T.T.

Dusty Plums

I felt slightly sadistic today. I was making baked chicken, and the recipe said to dip the chicken pieces in a whisked egg and then in the seasonings bag. So there I stood- smearing EGG all over CHICKEN. It reminded me of that time that I pulled all of the legs off of a daddy-long-legs. That's a true story, and it would've been animal cruelty if, in fact, anyone cared for daddy-long-legs. But they don't, so it's not.

Anyway, since my family is remodeling the kitchen, all of our cupboards and their contents are exploded all over the floors and couches of the surrounding rooms. It's really annoying to cook because you literally have to walk to one side of the house to get a bowl and then to the opposite side to get a fork and then to the middle to get an egg, and then to the laundry room to wash said egg off of your hands. The amount exercise that is involved is ridiculous.

In Soviet Russia, kitchen remodel you!

But by the same token, I now drink my grape juice out of wine glasses, since they're sitting right there in the open. Why would I do such a thing? It makes me feel so sumptuous with a hint of ostentation. Kind of the same feeling I get from wearing a ring on my left ring finger. Sarah came home the other day and she's all, "I thought you didn't like wine" and I was like- I don't, but I like to pretend that I do. I prefer pre-wine before it ferments and gets all disgusting.

I wonder what kind of wine Jesus liked.

Today I started a new project, and I'm doing something with it this time that I've never done before. I'm actually DOCUMENTING MY PROGRESS. So instead of showing you the finished project via an album in Facebook, I get to show you the gradual completion and all the frustration that goes along with it!
It's something Jessica Quirk does that I really like.

And don't worry- I'm not going to bore you with 3 hours of step by step instructions. I don't want to get on my own nerves.

So here is what I did today!

This was my cutting area. Usually, I do it on the dining room table, but as I have afore stated, the kitchen kind of barfed up everything into the dining room, rendering it unsuitable. I love the 1930's pincushion. It's so old-school.
















The project I'm working on is actually supposed to end up looking like this, dress C. There were SO many pleats and darts in the bodice, but I loved the detail and it turned out better than I had expected. Modeling is Darcy, our headless dressmaker's dummy. She's busty, so it's a little tight on her, but that's pretty much what it's supposed to look like.















Darcy and I are best friends:















And that's what I have so far. There shall be much more to come, if remember my camera. This is still new to me, so I'm not quite used to it, but I'm loving it.

Oooh- there was some double meaning in that. You gotta watch out for that kind of thing.

Of all the girls tossing rocks at your window,
T.T.

Little Onion Boy

The best part about being done with finals is that I don't have to study for marketing anymore. That, and NOBODY is here. Ergo, my internet works much faster, the parking spots are better, the refrigerator is cleaner, and the silence of it all is deafening.

Adam Duritz's voice from The Counting Crows reminds me of summer.
Vis-A-Vis markers remind me of kindergarten.
Herbal Essences orange hairspray reminds me of the wedding.
And the smell of Mod Podge is absolutely delightful.

Since I know all of you are wondering, here are 10 simple plans (Ugh- remember the band Simple Plan? Barf.) for next week:

1. Sew some things. I just ordered 4 patterns online that should be arriving in the next few days. Heck. Yes.
2. Cook some things.
3. Become an aunt/obtain a nephew.
4. Write back a friend via snail mail.
5. Watch 500 Days of Summer and fall in love all over again.
6. Miss someone.
7. Study some GMAT.
8. Catch up on some Parks and Rec.
9. My spring collection photo shoot!
10. Bask.

One of my favorite things to do in the summer is to come home from church, change into my bathing suit, and spend the rest of the morning floating on an inflatable alligator in the pool, listening to the birds sing, and smelling the combination of sunscreen, chlorine, and freshly cut grass.

The other day I was thinking that if given the choice between being a cowboy or being an Indian, I honestly don't know which one I would choose. The cowboys are so delightfully wild-west with the leather, guns, saloons, horses, hats, chaps, whiskey, card-playing, and mustaches. But then the Indians are so violently quaint with their wigwams, smoke traditions, poetic diction, homemade weapons, face paint, and the ubiquitous way that they put feathers in the their hair. I really can't decide.
It's not an easy choice like it is between ninjas and pirates.
I mean- come on.
Pirates all the way.

I should've been a cowboy, but on the other hand, you have different fingers. Think about it.

I wonder when exactly I stopped liking Chinese food.

I started packing today, but it turned into a fashion show. I am one of the most distracting people I've ever met. So I didn't get a lot accomplished, but I still have a couple of days to get it done.

My dad doesn't use his index fingers when he types. It kind of drives me crazy.

I was trying to find the little church in Fort Valley where I want to get married, but since Google Maps was being extremely deceitful, I tried Google Earth and the peach orchards look crazy awesome from an aerial view. Anyway, I found the church. I think it's called Saint John's Baptist, and it's where like 3 humongous fields meet. It's kind of creepy how you can see the crop circles, too. I can't say why I like the church so much. I have no connection to it whatsoever, but I like the way it looks and how it's in the middle of nowhere. It looks like it's been there forever, and it's probably not even in operation anymore.
But I like it.

I haven't flossed in a few days. I should probably get around to doing that.

Here are some awesome songs to which I listen, and you should, too!
1. Two Atoms of a Molecule; Noah and the Whale
2. Welcome Home; Radical Face
3. More Than Life; Whitley
4. New Hampshire; Matt Pond PA
5. Roll Away Your Stone; Mumford and Sons

I really, really like my taste in music.
Haha- I guess that's why it's mine.
I also like the taste of ice cream. The other night, I was trying to think of a flavor of ice cream that I really don't like, and I couldn't think of one. Ice cream is just a win-win situation all around.

So how about I woke up this morning, and I was like, "I really hope a new J. Crew catalog came for me. One came in November, and one in February, so it's about time for a new one. I never order anything from there, but I like to look."
It was the most random morning thought ever.

And for those of you who haven't seen my latest Facebook quote:

Mike: So what are your preferences on pillows?
Me: I have a down pillow.
Mike: Egggghhhhhhhhhh
Me: Why don’t you like down pillows?
Mike: Cuz the feathers are all pokey.
Me: Yeah, it’s a downer.

And here's a random picture to attract/deter customers:














I guess I'll go back to packing/playing dress up.

Of course you would like 2% milk,
T.T.

Behind the Green Glass Door

Happy Star Wars Day!
May the 4th be with you.

I didn't come up with that, so don't give me too much undeserved glory, laud and honor. You can still think I'm awesome, if you like.

Life has been interesting, but I don't have any monumental true stories to share.
Key words: to share.

Here is a list of 4 of my favorite things in the world:
1. true stories
2. secrets
3. pizza
4. people with whom I can share all of the above

The truth is that I do have monumental true stories, but they shan't be published.
Let's just say that the early bird gets the night owl.
Yes, yes.

So instead of telling you true stories today, you will be exposed to what I like to call "verifiable anecdotes".

Yesterday I went swimming after work. Not hXc lap swimmin' like I did the day before (1200 yards including a straight 500!), but like it's-so-hot-outside-I-must-submerge-my-head kind of swimming. It reminded me of home.

My hands smell like vegetables.

I pulled another one of my mid-morning naps again. It was dreamy. :D
But my apartment complex decided to rebuild the decks outside. So over the weekend, there was literally a pile of rotting lumber and spanish-speaking ladder-climbers outside of my window. They're still around painting and what not. It's just really creepy to wake up and have somebody RIGHT there.

Except for...nevermind.

So I ambled into work after eating the most wonderful beef stew I have ever made (truthfully, the only beef stew I have ever made), out of breath from the bike ride in the wind and with pillow lines on my face.

Lame joke interjection:
Did you hear about the corduroy pillow?
It's making headlines!

But hey- I'm here. On time. Awake. Alive.

My supervisor at work has a Facebook profile that has way more pictures of her son than it does of her. It's like a 2000 to 1 ratio. I think when he gets to a certain age, she can just hand it off to him, and he can start social networking since his entire life is already all over the internet.

You know you're a business student when:

1) You have dreams about investing, and you enjoy them. I woke from said dream up wanting to open a Fidelity brokerage account, but I didn't feel like giving my SSN away haphazardly without parental supervision. However, now I research stocks in which I plan to invest as if I'm an old, old man. Why just this morning, I even cracked open a Wall Street Journal and pretended to be a speculating day-trader. All I'd need is a pipe. And maybe a thick, white mustache.

2) You get selected to be on the COBA Student Advisory Board! Which I was. Our first awkward meeting is this Friday, so I get to dress up for it.

3) You "get" to dress up for events instead of feeling obliged to. It's a Business Beauty Privilege.

Oh my goodness- remember when we used to write notes to each other on those ridiculously long adding machine paper rolls with markers? And also on the address lines of Business Reply Mail cards stapled together?
We were such awesome kids.
I like to think we still are.

So how about I keep losing weight for no particular reason? Either Mike's scale is lying to me, or I'm actually only 111 now. I haven't been like that since 10th grade. That's back when I wore hats and dated stupid boys.
It's a time better left alone.
Now I date smart boys! (notwithstanding the boy logic)

But that aside, my weight is only at the 8th percentile according to my height and age. And percentiles remind me of statistics, so we're not going to go there.
That is also a time better left alone.

Lastly, if you're playing cards with two decks, and you need to divide them into two equal stacks, you could really just give each person a full deck. That way it'd be a perfectly equal distribution of face cards and poop.
It would be Santa vs. the Georgia Society of CPAs.
I wonder who would win.

Yet Your love is a melody our hearts can help but sing,
T.T.