Can't Talk, Comin' Down

I've never actually been high, but I'm going to wager that the feeling I had yesterday afternoon was kind of close.

My friend C and I are doing a Detox Diet right now. It's basically 7 days of fruits, vegetables and protein, 1 day of "fasting" (which in this world means alternating every hour between 8 oz of water and 8 oz of a cranberry drink mixture), and 3 days of fruits, vegetables and protein. We're on Day 3 today.

My feelings thus far can be summed up in one word: Hungry. I never really thought about how much I use carbs and dairy as filler. Particularly dairy. A lot of times if I'm hungry, but don't want to have something carbohydratey, I'll drink a glass of milk or have a little bowl of cottage cheese. I figure it's not fatty and gives me some calcium too. But there's no dairy allowed on this detox.

Yesterday, C and I were whining to each other about how hungry we were. She wondered if the smoothie place around the corner would fit into the plan. After looking at the menu, we determined it wouldn't, BUT a little internet research informed us that a smoothie place I liked in DC is actually here too. Hooray!

Incidentally, when is Jamba Juice going to get its act together re: the East Coast?

So in the middle of the afternoon, feeling not quite full from our mutual lunch salads, we went to the smoothie place. We both ordered a pomegranate/strawberry smoothie in large please, and with the first sip decided that maybe it was worth $6 a day to enjoy such bliss for the remainder of our detox.

Our fatal flaw was in not inquiring whether the juice they used was 100% juice. I don't think it was.

About a half hour after I finished my smoothie I was seriously buzzing. BUZZING! I could hardly sit still. I was like, Yay! Fruit! This is awesome! I am going to ROCK the pool tonight! Yay!

A half hour after the high I crashed. Hard. My head felt a little detached from the rest of my body, not to mention the world around me. When I left work an hour later I was feeling a little better and made it to the pool, but I was dragging.

My conclusion: Just say no.

My Name is Kelly, and I Am an Introvert

A friend and I were talking about introversion and extr0version last night prompted by an interesting article she read called Caring For Your Introvert.* She told me on the Myers Briggs test she rated something like 89% introvert. My numbers weren't quite that high, somewhere in the 70's I think, but it has always been my natural inclination to be more withdrawn. I have always tested as an INFJ no matter how much time passes between tests.

It's not an introverted world however, as I know firsthand and as the article emphasizes. I've worked for many years to be more comfortable with social situations and small talk, but it's still kind of a struggle. When I'm interacting socially, sometimes it's a conscious decision to not sit there in silence and just take everything in. "Many introverts, when socializing, feel like actors" is a line from the article that rings true with me.

Don't get me wrong, I do like to socialize. I seek out friends and plan dinners or small gatherings. I like interacting with others and feel bored and sad if I feel like I have a non-existent social life. However, I do need alone time and I need time to recharge. And, frankly, I feel overwhelmed at large parties where people are squashed together in rooms, talking loudly, often (at least it seems to me) about nothing in particular. In those situations I will do one of two things: 1)Find someone who I know fairly well and end up talking to that one person the whole night.** Or, 2)Leave. I won't necessarily leave the party, but I may go outside for a moment to get my bearings. Or shut myself in a bedroom if I know the party-givers really well. After 10 minutes or so, I'm usually ready to weave my way through the crowd again. The only way I can explain it is I have to decompress from sensory overload.

I had jaw surgery in high school and my mouth was wired shut for 4 1/2 weeks. It was infuriating to not be able to express myself at times, but also very comfortable for me to sit back and just observe.

I have a sneaking suspicion that a lot of bloggers, particularly those who are very gregarious online, are introverts. I know I have always felt much more comfortable and confident in my communications by writing versus talking. Sometimes when I talk, I find myself pausing and searching for the right words in a way that may make me sound like an awkward speaker. When I write, I can sit for a few seconds and come up with the right word. I don't really have the capacity of verbalizing my thought process, but if given a moment to analyze the situation inside my own head, I can figure out a solution to a problem. The thing is, I sometimes feel like the extrovert doesn't appreciate the wait and may dismiss me as not having any ideas at all.


* Some of the statements in the article are a little extreme. The only time I would really snarl at an extrovert is if they're trying to be all chatty first thing in the morning. My grandma and I were both relieved when I was about 15 and we discovered that neither of is likes to talk to anyone for about a half hour to an hour after we wake up. So she would sit in the kitchen quietly eating her cereal and reading her paper, while I would walk by her and maybe say good morning, but then quickly take my own breakfast into the family room. And neither of us worried that the other was mad or offended or anything.

**Actually, come to think of it, those people were probably introverts too as they seemed perfectly happy to also sit in one place and talk with me the whole evening.

Listening to the Internet Radio

Why do I like that Nickelback guy's voice so much? I don't know, but I do.

V Day

Let me just say that in my liberal-minded, feminist heart I recognize that Valentine's Day is a conspiracy between Hallmark, FTD and Russell Stovers, and when I'm single I hate it with a passion that knows no bounds, but the girly part of me who has a boyfriend right now thinks, "Yay! Love!" Last week for only the second time ever I was dating someone on Valentine's Day* and had been promised some sort of celebration of the day. V Day had to be postponed because of the Nor'easter, but, meh, I was promised dinner and I knew I would get to cash in eventually.

Then, totally unrelated to the storm, our plumbing backed up. I actually wanted to give our landlady a hug, she looked so distressed when she told us that we would need to go somewhere else for a few days since the plumber was talking about possibly digging up the street to get to the corroded 103-year old clay pipe. She offered to put us up somewhere, but we knew we could all find places to stay, so instead it looks like we'll get a little off of next month's rent.

So I spent the weekend down in Providence with Jason. He came up for a choir practice on Thursday and I just rode back down with him, which probably worked out better in the end since my car is still frozen in an ice block and it would have taken many hours and probably lots of boiling water to free it to drive down to Providence on Friday or Saturday.

V Day started on Thursday when Jason picked me up and had pretty yellow with red/orange edges roses and a heart-shaped box of candy. He also took me out for a fancy Italian dinner** on Saturday and gave me a brown Brown hoodie that is very cute, and also useful since I am always freezing at his place. I totally scored.

In return I gave him a little coupon good for cash toward Irish bagpipes, which he wants to buy. I figured I could help that process along and further his goal of creating a rockin' Irish band.*** I also tackled the mountain of laundry in his room sort of as a V Day/thanks for rescuing me when my plumbing died present. He probably has about 357 T-shirts and at least 200 of them were in the hamper.

So, in conclusion, Yay! Love!


* Jason and I were dating last V Day, but we were both super poor and agreed we just wouldn't do anything.
** Pumpkin-stuffed pasta! Yum!
***Which he invites everyone he meets who plays an instrument to join. It's going to be the biggest Irish band in the world.

I Live In An Ice Cube

So, you know, I can deal with snow. Blizzard of 2005, I was all over that. Going for walks in the blowing snowstorm, relishing my cozy apartment while my roommates and I watched the snow fall, digging out my car.

However, yesterday's Nor'easter was an evil concoction of sleet, freezing rain and snow that, since it got down to about 10 degrees last night, has resulted in a world encased in ice. Usually when I step into a snow bank at the side of the road, it gives and I sink in up to my knee and then I take the next step, sink in up to my knee, and so on. This morning those snow banks proved to be solid chunks of ice, with a light dusting of snow on top just to make it interesting.

I am proud to say that despite ice skating about a quarter of my way into work, I did not fall down. That's really quite an accomplishment for me.

And I would like to say to the taxi driver who couldn't seem to stay on his side of the road despite a widely plowed path leaving plenty of room for a car and a woman trying to avoid the ice slick of a sidewalk, there is a reason I hate cabbies.

Music Commentary

Point 1, Timbaland must have some magical power in his voice that makes me like the songs that say "feat. Timbaland." "SexyBack" and "Promiscuous" come immediately to mind, and the only Pussycat Dolls song I can stomach ("Wait A Minute") feat.s Timbaland.

Point 2, does anyone else think the lyrics to "Smack That" by Akon are the funniest thing ever. I mean, seriously:

smack that, all on the floor,
smack that, give me some more,
smack that, 'till you get sore
smack that, oooh.

How do you not laugh? Hard.

So, the thing is, my iPod broke again. Or rather, it's still broken. Whatever. It's doing that clicky clicky, my hard drive is dead thing again. After a few good weeks of enjoying music on my way to and from work, it has died. The above points are a direct result of my being relegated to the Hits station of internet radio while I code documents.

Clever Mousie

So none of us have gotten around to buying any of those sonic repellants and have just been doing our best to keep food off of the counter. Last night, though, Chrissy made her amazing oatmeal bread* and after slicing it we left it on the cutting board. On the counter. We're so smart.

A little while later I came moseying in to get some more bread and the mouse shot out from behind the loaf on the counter and ran into one of the burners on the oven. Angie popped up the oven top, but Mr. Mousie was long gone. I admit, I shrieked like a little girl. I actually like mice in a not germ-infested, domestic forum, but dashing across my counter and eating the amazing oatmeal bread is so not cool.

Angie said there were some traps under the sink that they bought when they had a mouse before, so after securing promises from both Chrissy and Angie that if I woke up before them and came into the kitchen to a mouse corpse, I had the right to come wake one of them up since they're tougher than me and don't mind dealing with little furry bodies, Angie put some peanut butter on the trap and set it on the counter.

This morning I peered around the doorway into the kitchen, and saw only the trap on the counter. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that the mouse had licked the peanut butter off the trap without springing it, and then pooped right next to it as if to say, "Ha ha, suckahs!"

The landlady has been called. The exterminator is coming.


* Chrissy's bread may be a factor in why I'm not losing weight so fast, but that is a sacrifice I am just not willing to make.

You Can Call Me Flower if You Want To

I am a Sunflower What Flower Are You?

"When your friends think smile, they think of you. There is not a day that goes by that you can't find something good about the world and your fellow human."

Maybe. I think moreso recently. What do the people who know me think?

The question that was apparently the deciding factor was the last one, which is about ice cream. I initially chose Peanut Butter Mocha Chocolate Swirl because, um, yum! That made me a Sunflower. But then I went back and just selected Chocolate since I'm also into basic chocolate and then I became Echinacea. I think the Sunflower flavor is more true. Although if the peanut butter was wrapped in pretzels, a la Ben & Jerry's Chubby Hubby, that would be even better.

Mmmm....ice cream....

(Quiz courtesy of Ezpy )

Huh

So, okay, today has been kind of a weird day at work.

And then we get this news.

Today is the weirdest day ever.

Zoom Zoom Indeed

I think a very important relationship in my life may be coming to an end.

No, not that one.

You all know that I love Bunny, but over the past year or so she's been really disappointing me. First, the airbag consule had to be replaced, then that radiator thing cracked, then the ignition completely broke. After putting a bunch of money into her in both September and October, now the emergency brake light has come on and won't go off and there's a slight worrying smell coming from the engine when I drive long distances (like, for instance, down to Providence to see my boyfriend).

So I think it may be time to move on...

I have checked out many different cars. No, really. After spending an inordinate amount of time building cars on these websites*, I think I've determined that this one is probably the best deal. Jason is miffed because he says I'm copying his choice of car, but I want to point out for the record that 1) he's the one who is always extolling the virtues of the Hyundai, and 2) it's totally different than his car in that it's a 2007 and not a hatchback. I know it's really just because he wants me to get the Tiburon, which would be great and all and really what I would love to get, but it's also significantly more expensive than the Elantra.

However, despite knowing that having a car that is dependable with a warranty would give me peace of mind and make me feel like those drives down to Providence were less chancey, I'm still scared. The fear comes mostly from concerns about money. My job right now could end at a moment's notice if they settle. So while I do have the money right this second to increase my car payment and put down a down payment, it's nerve-wracking to think about doing it because of the insecurity of my position. But then, how much more money do I put into Bunny? She's 7 years old and only has 67,000 miles on her and should seriously not be having so many problems.


* Sometimes I'm reminded of just how much I love the internet.

The Best Thing I've Ever Seen On the T

A heavily pierced and tattoed, totally punk couple, pushing their toddler in a stroller. The mom, with her nose hoop, combat boots and dyed black hair, had a lengthy conversation with the grandmother-type sitting nearby about the kinds of food her child liked to eat and how he was so pleasant to be around and a really good eater.

Our Little Friend

So we're pretty sure that we have a mouse. None of us have actually seen the mouse, but he keeps leaving little...um...presents on our countertops. My roommate Angie discovered the first little present a couple of weeks ago and practically every day we discover more.

Yesterday morning I walked into the kitchen and discovered that in an act of utter disregard, the mouse had knocked over one of our cutting boards and left a little present on top. Besides the ew factor, I think he's getting a little uppity.

My roommate Chrissy left some butter covered in plastic wrap on the counter and when I came in to fix my dinner last night, I discovered that the mouse had gnawed through the plastic wrap and eaten a big chunk out of the butter. Angie said she hopes he dies of high cholesterol.

The thing is, we all know that the mouse is here. I told my roommates about the butter and suggested we not leave any food on the counter from now on. But we're all kind of ignoring it. Like maybe if we ignore him, he'll leave our little treasure trove of snacks for some other place. The alternative is not really something I want to think about, but after the cutting board and butter incidents, we may have to look into traps. Can't we just live harmoniously with the mouse? Maybe if we leave him a little snack every night, he won't actually start burrowing into our cracker and Cream of Wheat boxes.

'Cause You Know What I Really Need Is Another Bag

On the off chance that I ever get an interview again and actually get a real job that requires me to dress like a professional, I've been looking for a nice bag. I've been sporting this microfiber messenger number to interviews for a couple of years and, frankly, it kind of looks like poo. I would like something in black that looks professional. However, since I can't afford Coach or Kate Spade, I've been frequenting the accessories sections of department stores and discount stores alike for some time now, hoping for something affordable that didn't actually look too affordable.

Tonight, my true love Target came through.

Wait, is that a padded computer sleeve poking out of that cute bag?
Why yes, yes it is.

The best part, in my opinion, is the lining, which is that green that is so trendy and is currently my favorite color because I am a slave to the mass media. *
And now we see why Target really is my true love and understands me like no other.

*I think the fact that I have a cute little white Mac book to fit into the computer sleeve is further proof of that statement.