Here comes the downside.

I am tired. Tired all the freaking time. I know it's a huge adjustment to go from sleeping until noon and doing whatever the hell I want to working 8-9 hour days, but I didn't expect to be so dead. And, despite the increased physical activity from work, I'm actually gaining weight. FRUSTRATINGGG. Lately I've been crying at the drop of a penny. I swear, something is totally off...

Doodly doo.

Update on me. Me me me.

After years of performing managerial tasks for a non-managerial wage, Tyler finally got the manager title. Which means now his hours are completely wonky. In fact, our schedules conflict in every way. Ooh, by the way, I got a part-time job at Macy's. The pay is completely "eh," but I adore it because everyone is painfully nice and the discount is sweet. I've also been playing phone tag with the HR of a certain company for about two weeks, and I REALLY hope we make contact soon...

I need to start working out, and I'm not saying that because I'm feeling chubs, or because my birthday's coming up, or because I'm going to Vegas this summer. I want to start exercising, really, because 1.) my energy level is at -56, and 2.) when I go out to a club and I'm dancing, sometimes I swear I can hear my joints popping. Maybe I have osteoporosis? Can you get that at 22?

The good thing is, in the midst of all this, I've started writing again. It's nothing long or inspired, but it's a start. I've had writer's block for quite a while now and I can feel it beginning to lift. Perhaps it's because I no longer spend my days wallowing in daytime TV and self-pity. I'm actually interacting with people again, man. Oh, and I arrange cute outfits on mannequins when no one is looking.

I've recently resolved to try harder to keep in touch with people. It's a big fear of mine for friends to fade out of my life because of my poor time-management skills. But, hey, if you want to make it easier on me and give me a call, that would be splendid too.

(Off topic: I know I said I've weaned myself off daytime TV, but primetime TV pretty much owns my soul. If you've ever seen 30 Rock, you'll notice Liz Lemon (Tina Fey) is 85% me. She's totally awkward, she overeats to a comedic degree, she can justify anything... the list goes on. Seeeeriously. Needless to say, I adore her.

Are you a Liz Lemon?

Off off topic: I have a crazy love for Jim Halpert (John Krasinski) on The Office. A crazy, craaaaaazy love. Which ties in with my post about falling for mischievous dudes who like to pull shit.)

I adore.

Fuck bugs. And snakes.

As much as I've tried to fight it, despite all the other networks I've dipped my toes in, I still prefer xanga for blogging. Myspace is all over the damn place, and I don't feel like anyone really reads my facebook notes except me. Still got love for you, xanga.

It's March and I have bug bites already! 8 to be exact, and all on my lower right leg. The other night Tyler was already asleep and I was watching TV, a common occurrence. So at around 2:00 I turned the TV off and started to drift off. Tyler budged a little. Wait, nope. He jumped out of bed, over me, while yelling "OHSHITOH SHITOHSHIT!" and he turned on the light. When he fully woke up the first thing he saw was probably the heart attack on my face. Slowly I said "W-whaat?"

"I...snakes. There were snakes."

"Hoookay."

Apparently, the boy had a dream there were snakes in the bed.  And then I had 8 bug bites on my leg the next day, which is great. I should probably mention that my reactions to bug bites have been both severe and thoroughly unpleasant. When I was around 10, I used to get tons of huge mosquito bites, the kind that form a huge dome and are warm to the touch. Worst part? I'd get them right on my knee. It seriously looked like I had four or five knees. Then, in college, I got a spider bite on a vein in my inner elbow and the poison visibly traveled up the vein by way of purple bruising. I had to take pink antibiotics for two weeks to get rid of it. These current 8 bites are a cluster of round deals with tiny pointy bumps in the center of each circle. They're reddish purple, like a bruise, and I swear the itch is laughing at me and my generic brand calamine lotion.

In conclusion, SNAKES ON A BED!

300.

Tyler and I saw it in IMAX today at 1:30 and the theater was still full. 1:30 on a Tuesday! The worker bees at Warner Bros. are totally partying right now. Anyhoo, you know I liked it for these reasons: 1) I enjoy comics and badassity, 2) I enjoy watching good looking dudes deliver the aforementioned badassity, 3) I was a greek mythology/history nerd as a kid (Sparta is neat, minus the brutal baby sorting), and 4) I recognize which movies are meant to change your life and which are meant to be 2 hours of pure entertainment. 300 isn't just based on the Battle of Thermopylae, it's based on the Frank Miller graphic novel, which is based on the Battle of Thermopylae. So when I hear people bitching about how it's not realistic enough I ball my hands into little fists. Basically, if you liked Sin City, you'll like 300.

Oh yeah. Gerard Butler has many forms, all of them crazy hot. Can you believe he was the Phantom in Phantom of the Opera?

I'm so...awkward...

There are times in ones life that are so intensely awkward that they make one feel like a puppet for, well, someone's amusement.  Today included two such instances.

1. I was drying my 17th load of laundry. While cleaning out the lint trap I snagged my fingertip on a frayed piece of metal mesh and literally squealed "TETANUS!" Then, I was chucking clothes in the dryer and a tank top strap got caught on the door and snapped it shut on my forearm. For the finale, I yanked my forearm out, tripped on my left foot, and fell on my ass. Make it stopppp.

2. I've had the trash can next to my computer desk for several days now. This morning, as I was cleaning, I moved it back to its proper place in the corner of the room. For lunch I had some soup and dessert was a banana and, to make a short story even shorter...I totally threw the banana peel on the floor. It just flopped right down on the carpet. I think I stared at it for a little under a minute. Did I just throw a banana peel on the floor? I think I did.

But I'm not verbally awkward anymore. Not on a regular basis, at least. Er, there was that time at church over Christmas break... This freaking beautiful dude was standing next to my dad. Dude looked like a cross between Cillian Murphy and Ryan Philippe. I mean, c'mon, that's not even fair. It takes a great deal of good lookin' to get me giddy nowadays, and inside I was going squeeeeeeee. He was, like, stunning. Can a man be "stunning"? Anyway. So this dude, who's probably 19, is minding his own pretty business and he's sitting with his grandparents like a nice boy, which makes him even hotter. The time comes for us to offer people around us a sign of peace. Peace be with you, Dad. Peace be with you, Grandparents of Hot Dude. And then I look up and my hand is touching Hot Dude's hand and he says "Peace be with you" and I smile and say "Uh huh." WOW. Can you just imagine that shit? Awful.