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In which I display a severe lack of cohesion (sorry)

Thursday, March 1st, 2012

Some exciting news at work: new co-workers, new snacks.

Why is this cracking me up so much?

I’m flying to Kansas City tomorrow to 1) help my mom move into her new house, and 2) see him, him, and him.

I wish this was the appropriate place to talk about dating.  I might have to start a secret blog.

So many of my favorite clothes are wearing out – the staples.  The jeans.  The black pants.  The basic shirts.  I’m Raggedy Annie these days, threadbare and frayed.

I’ve decided to not be vegan (surprise, surprise).  It was a good experiment for a bit, but I think that the biggest take-away is just to eat more real food – which means cooking more – which is actually going to be great.

Tom Petty is coming to Denver?  WHO IS COMING WITH ME????!?

If this is true, let the record state that I predicted this long ago.  So cliché.

Friday fun facts

Friday, July 15th, 2011

What do you do when it’s Friday, and you have no real brain space or time, but you still want to say things?

You just say them.  All in a row.

Like this…

I got a haircut.  No more mermaid hair – although, correspondingly, no more dead head.

If you have ever prayed, “Dear God, please can there be a movie that combines “The Sandlot” and “Signs” and “Independence Day”?” then guess what.  Your prayer has been answered, and it’s called “Super 8.”  I LOVED IT.

I’m taking the first week of August off of work.  No plans – except to climb as many mountains as I can, and do fun things, and turn 29 years old.

Tom Petty is proof that a man doesn’t have to be attractive to be sexy.  That is just the strangest phenomenon.

Tomorrow night, I’m going to a professional lacrosse game.  I’m never quite sure which sport is lacrosse, and which is rugby, and which is polo.  I feel like all involve grunting?  Time to do some research.

I don’t think I know anyone in Denver with a truck.  Does anyone in Denver have a truck?  (I know – that is the question that every truck-owner doesn’t want to answer.  Except I’m SO nice, and I make very good cookies.)

Lately, I’ve been missing Seattle so much I can barely breathe.  I haven’t been there in almost a year.  This is so wrong.

But it’s pay day.  This is so right.

A short post consisting entirely of baseball-related idioms

Wednesday, December 15th, 2010

I’m far from a major leaguer, but I don’t think I’m off base in saying that today I’m throwing you a curveball.

This may come out of left field, but today, I’m in a bit of a pickle. It seems that the Natural me is taking a rain check, so screwball me is pinch hitting.  The Natural me is on deck for tomorrow, but until then, it’s a whole new ball game. I’m hardly batting a thousand, but I hope I’m at least in the ballpark.

This whole thing is probably hit or miss, and now I’m down to the last out. But it ain’t over til it’s over, and there’s still a chance I’ve knocked it out of the park. Be sure to touch base and let me know.

You’ve got mail

Friday, October 8th, 2010

I’ve decided to write an email today instead of a blog.  I love writing emails, but I’ve been so bad at sending them these days.  So much correspondence has slipped by the wayside.  I have months of messages that I want to respond to, but when I email all day for work, the last thing I want to do in my free time is write an email – even when I like you.

So, here goes.  An open email to whoever stumbles across here today.

– – – – – – – –

Hey!

That’s right, a “Hey” with an exclamation point, because that’s how I’m greeting you.  Exclamatorally.  An exclamatory greeting to open an extemporaneous email.

It’s Friday morning, and it feels kind of “fallish” here in Denver today.  I’m actually wearing a sweater, and I’ve been drinking peppermint tea.  Now I’m chewing peppermint gum.

I like it how some little kids think that peppermint gum is “spicy.”  That’s cute.  I wonder why “peppermint” starts with “pepper,” and what the common thread is between peppermint, bell peppers, and peppercorn.

Incidentally, my favorite character in “Annie” the musical was always Pepper.  She had a chip on her shoulder, and was kind of a bully, especially to little Molly.  But Annie was a scrapper, and wasn’t afraid of Pepper – and they wound up being great friends.  Kind of like me and Seattle Miranda – two strong, different personalities that could have butted heads, but wound up meshing together perfectly.

Seattle Miranda is actually now New York Miranda, so maybe I should refer to her as such.

I never, ever want to go back to school.  No higher education for me, no sir.  I’m attending instead the School of Hard-Knocks – but let’s be honest, more the School of Not-Real-Problems.  My “problems” aren’t always real problems.

I’m a worrier by nature.  I worry about the future, mostly, which is stupid because THE FUTURE NEVER HAPPENS.  It’s like chasing a mirage, or staring into the fog.  The only real thing is the present moment, the right here, the right now.  If I had three wishes, they would be 1) not to worry, 2) not to be afraid, and 3) no more debt.

Wait, 3) wouldn’t be an issue if not for 1) and 2).  I’m changing 3) to “a shoulder rub.”

Have a great weekend.  I’ll be climbing 14ers number 14 and 15 tomorrow.  You can write me back if you want.

Love,
Annie

Same difference

Thursday, September 23rd, 2010

One of the very embarrassing ways that I spend my free time (and oh, I have a lot of free time) is making photo collages of things that are similar.

I know: BORING.  But I’m a connector, okay?  It’s just what I do.  I see things, and make connections in my brain, and then introduce otherwise unconnected people or things to each other.

Remember my vast amounts of free time.

So, here is Sam trying to be as cool as I am.

And here are me and my new friend Mike just HAPPY TO BE ALIVE – smiley and squinty in nature.

And here is a lizard in Becca‘s light, and then a scorpion in Ginger‘s.

And here I am at my desk at precisely 2:30pm 4 days in a row.  Too sunny.  Denver is just too sunny.

And… well, that’s all I have today.

And now, for a long story

Thursday, September 16th, 2010

When I was a senior in college, I stopped every morning on the way to class at a coffee shop called the Java Bean.  Every day, I ordered the same thing: a 16 oz. cup of coffee with room.  That’s all, nice and simple.  The baristas recognized me, and I always had exact change for my coffee – $1.89.

Until one day.

I walked into the Java Bean, ordered my coffee, and opened my wallet to find $1.39.  I was 50 cents short – but these people knew me.  They knew I would be back tomorrow.  They knew that I always ordered the same thing.  They would take $1.39 for my coffee today, knowing I would be back in the morning with the difference.  Right?

“I only have $1.39,” I explained to the man at the counter.  I waited for him to waive the extra 50 cents, to tell me that the Java Bean loves me, to say, “I’ve gotcha, girl,” and send me on my way with a wink.  I waited.  I waited.

But this man knew no compassion.  He just stared at me.

Finally, he said, “Well, do you have a credit card?”

I was slightly shocked, but cooperatively opened my wallet and handed over my debit card.  I couldn’t believe that he wasn’t going to let me slide on out of there, cup of joe in hand, but whatever.  I didn’t invent coffee.  I didn’t invent money.  I’m just here for the buzz.

“There’s a $10 minimum on credit card purchases,” he said.

Buzz kill.

But never fear!  This man had an idea.  “You’re here every morning – why don’t you get a pre-paid card for your coffee?  If you pay for 10 cups right now, we’ll give you this punch card.  I know you’ll make good use of it.”  Yes, of course you know I’ll make good use of it – I’m here EVERY MORNING and will bring an extra 50 cents tomorrow – why don’t you love me?

“Well, okay,” I found myself saying.  My card was about to be charged $19.15 – $18.90 for 10 cups of coffee, plus a 25 cent credit card fee – all because I used two quarters in a parking meter, but no big deal.

I watched this man swipe my card, and then swipe it again, and then again and again and again – but the machine wasn’t having it.

At this point, there was a line of about 6 people behind me, stomping the ground like horses.  Come to think of it, they were exhaling loudly like horses, too – that exasperated puff of impatience.  My card continued to be no good, and finally, desperate for caffeine and escape, I couldn’t take the pressure.

“I’ll write a check!” I exclaimed.  “My checkbook is in the car.  I’ll be right back.”  I dashed out of the Java Bean, and returned to scribble a check for $19.15.  I handed it over just to have the man remind me, “Since this isn’t a credit card purchase, it’s only $18.90.”

My turn to exhale like a horse.

I tore up the check, and wrote a new one for $18.90.  The moment that I gave it to the coffee man, his dim mental lightbulb flared as he realized that the credit card machine had not been plugged in.

His “Aha!” moment was my “GAH” moment.

He handed me my freshly punched punch card and a paper cup for my coffee.  I walked to the pump pot on the counter to fill my cup and get on with my life, but the coffee pot was empty.

The coffee pot was empty.  I had just paid $18.90 and wasted 9 minutes of my life to discover that the coffee pot was empty.

I lifted the pot and marched it to the man at the counter.  “I’m sorry, but could I get some COFFEE?” I practically bellowed.

Scene?  Officially made.

I found an arm chair in the corner to sit in and stew as a fresh pot of coffee was being brewed.  I watched the clock on the wall, every ticking second matching the time-bomb in my chest.  My face was scrunched.  I was late for class, I was desperate for caffeine, and I was down $18.90.

“Anne,” the man called.  “Anne, come here.”  He had seen my name on my credit card – Anne Parsons – and was now calling me by my given name that I never go by, because if there’s anything that Annie Parsons is not, it is Anne.

“I’m so sorry for the craziness.  Here’s a coupon for the next time you’re in.”

The coupon?  50 cents off my next purchase.

Crave

Thursday, July 22nd, 2010

I know, I know.  Things won’t make me happy.  No matter what I get, things will leave me feeling empty – empty like a Kardashian brain.

But let’s just say that it’s Lent, and that for Lent, I gave up frugality.

Here’s what I would buy:

Charley Harper: An Illustrated Life.

This shirt in every color.

Cocktail shaker.

Fingerless gloves.


A tiny clock.  (What?)

A puppy.

A piano.

A Scout.

It’s a good thing I have sensible, prudent things to spend my money on, like cavities and car repairs.  This is saving me from the world of disappointment I would surely discover if I actually got a tiny clock.

Tic-tac-toe, 5 in a row

Friday, May 28th, 2010

I am always making lists.  I cannot operate with out lists.  They make me feel productive and safe.

Why “safe”?  Don’t ask me these questions.  It’s how I FEEL.  I don’t need to have a REASON.  GAWL.

[When I was a teenager, “gawl” was my biggest expression of disgust.  I said it ALL THE TIME.  My siblings will still occasionally bring it up, throwing the word at me, faces all repulsed and contorted and dramatic.  Apparently, that is how they remember me at age 14.

I couldn’t help it, though – it wasn’t easy being SUPERIOR to EVERYONE.  In the UNIVERSE.  FOREVER.  INFINITY.  GAWL.]

Anyway, I just made a list of “actors I do not trust.”  I wrote it on a Post-It note.  It says:
Tom Cruise
Nicolas Cage
Charlie Sheen

And I felt like telling you.

Now, I feel it necessary to acknowledge that I might be wasting your time these days… but then again, you’re HERE, aren’t you?  Lurking in the shadows?  Creepily reading my thoughts?  Distractedly entertained for roughly 45 seconds every day this week?

Heeeyyy-ooooooh, it’s been awhile since I’ve gotten 5 in a row!  I should take myself out for a nice steak dinner.  Congrats, self.

I’m taking my ping-ponging thoughts elsewhere before someone loses an eye.  I’ll see you on Monday.

Don’t pretend like you won’t be back.  I love you.

Maundering pondering :: redux

Tuesday, March 23rd, 2010

Man.  Yesterday’s post really took it out of me.  It’s not easy talking about my skivvies to the entire Internet.  I could hardly sleep last night, knowing that the words “bikini” and “thong” were just… OUT THERE.  Attached to MY HONORABLE NAME.

When it comes to entertainment value, anything that I say after yesterday’s post is only going to be a let down.  Nothing humiliating, bawdy, or awkward has happened in the last 24 hours – and even though I never set out with this as a goal, it seems as though “humor trumps dignity” is becoming my new creed.

Here’s a question: is this a plus-size model?

picture-3

I DIDN’T THINK SO EITHER.  Sheesh, Macy’s.  For crying out loud.

Here’s another question: do you call them clementines, cuties, or satsumas?

orange

Speaking of clementines, in another life, I am going to name my children Clementine, Sparrow, and Bluebell.  I can’t do it in THIS life, because what would people think?  But deep down, I love these names.  Maybe I should get some livestock – I could name a cow Bluebell, no questions asked.  When it comes to bovines, you can get away with anything.

Just watch “Food, Inc.

And… that’s all I’ve got today.

Weird things come in threes

Tuesday, March 9th, 2010

The weirdest thing has been happening lately.

I have been overcome with this gigantic, humongous desire to go to California.

Since when have I craved California?  And not just California – but SOUTHERN California?  This is so unlike me.  I don’t even know who I am anymore.

Other things have been changing, too.  There is the obvious (I run stupid distances by myself on the weekends) – but there are also some new transformations that I feel like mentioning.

Peas ruin everything.  I suppose that I have never been a huge proponent of peas, anyway, but last week, I made the decision that I never want to taste another pea again.

I feel kind of shy.  My introversion has never equated shyness before, but here we are.  I come into contact with a room full of people that I don’t know, and it feels so scary to say hello to anyone.

And… well, that’s all.  I wish that I had three bolded points, because 3 is the best number (um, hello, three notes create a chord, Reduce Reuse Recycle, Three Blind Mice, the Three Little Pigs, and remember a little something called the HOLY TRINITY?) – but alas, I only have two.

But then again, in Vietnam, it is bad luck to take a picture with three people in it – because the person in the middle will soon die.  Three strikes and you’re out.  You have until the count of 3 before I sock you in the jaw.

I think that this blog just became my third point.