Ethical dilemma

I am attending a Halloween party tonight, about which I am super excited. What my costume lacks in originality, it makes up for in absolute, to-die-for cuteness. But there's a problem.

Of course there is.

My beautiful hostess will be serving Jello-Shots, which is something that is totally on my favorite things of all times list, right behind hula hoops and mud.

So this is a problem, why?

TACO BELL CHALLENGE. I am in day 3 of the Taco Bell challenge. (And loving it.) I'm not sure, if doing Jello-Shots (and considering them liquor) means I will be cheating in the Taco Bell challenge. I think I am going to be in moral distress for the rest of the day.

I really should have thought this out better. Who goes on a Taco bell challenge the week of Halloween? Think of all the candy I'll be not eating.

How 'bout this? I forgo the candy (because I have to) and drink the Jello-Shots?

the Challenge

So, I'm doing it. I'm taking the Challenge. What Challenge?

The Taco Bell Challenge!!

3 meals a day, for seven days nothing but the Bell. I'm going to think-outside-the bun. I'm going to devour days and days worth of crunchy-melty goodness. Tacos, bean burritos, crunch wrap supremes, chalupas, cheese roll ups and then more tacos. Yes, friends, I'm really going to do it.

Why am I doing this?

Because I can.

Undecided

So right now, I am a woman with too many job offers - at a point in my life where I wasn't even looking for new employment. I thought I had made a decision to take Job A. But then I went on a fourth (yes, fourth!) interview for Job B. At the conclusion of interview number four, the gentleman shakes my hand and tells me, "I love you. You have to take this job. I absolutely love you!" Kind of puts me back on the fence...

In other undecidedness, Halloween is fast approaching and here's me with nothing to wear. I was going to be the 1984 Prom Queen, but my mom tossed the dress when she was cleaning out the basement. So now I am at a loss...

Chi Chi and I went to Barack Obama's house

Ok, so really we just drove by it. Twice. Really slowly. Lots of police. We couldn't get too close. But I still get to tell everyone I went to Barack Obama's house. Twice.

All my jobs...

Weird. Inside two business days, I received two phone calls offering me two different jobs, neither of which has been publically advertised yet. Weird, right? But also, very cool.

Now I must deliberate...

I'm ashamed to admit

I watched Hannah Montana. After swearing her off. But I was drunk. And in the woods. And in the middle of a rousing game of reverse-strip-rummy. So it doesn't really count.

Right?

I *heart* Tomah

This post can also be titled "Northern Wisconsin hates Taco Bell"....

So, heading home from the Northwoods, all we wanted was a little Taco Bell. You know, just a taco or two and a crunch wrap supreme. That's all. And we're driving along on the interstate thinking a Taco Bell is just around the corner.

There'll will be one at the next exit...

Rice Lake: no Taco Bell.

Chetek: no Taco Bell.

Bloomer: no Taco Bell.

Chippewa Falls: no Taco Bell.

Eau Claire: no Taco Bell.

Black River Falls: no Taco Bell.

Tomah: TACO BELL!!!!

Of course, the long wait precipitated the buying of 10 tacos, 10 bean burritos, a crunch wrap supreme and a small coke. I LOVE TOMAH TACO BELL!!!! But after that order, I'm not sure how they feel about me...

Barnes, Wisconsin, Population: 392

I ran away from work. To Barnes, which is a tiny little town waayyyy up in Northern Wisconsin where I spent my summers as a kid.


This was my first trip up during anything other than the summer months. I feel extremely fortunate to have been able to take this trip for many reasons:


1. It kept me from committing homicide on the colleague-type-person mentioned in the previous post.


2. It was awesome to be in the woods with all the fall colors changing.


3. I got to bring the best "off in the woods" buddy ever.


4. I got to babysit three cool dogs.



5. Paddleboatin' with beer is good for the soul.


6. Bear huntin' with beer as bait is even better for the soul.




7. Reverse strip rummy is my new favorite game, especially when it comes to wearing a plush moose head belted to your booty (ie: Moose-Caboose)



8. Cheesehats make the world a much better place.

The Hater & the D-Bag

I don't like the word hate. I don't like what it means. But once in a while everyone is a little bit of a hater. Right now, that's me.

I'm in a weird position in which the scientists I work for also work for me. And one of these scientists is the ULTIMATE D-BAG. And I hate him. Not kinda sorta. But like totally, man. I H-A-T-E him. He makes my job miserable, which sucks, because I love my job. And that makes me hate him even more.

Last week, he was 3 hours & 48 minutes late in getting me what I needed to do my job in order to make him money. Let me tell you, my level of haterism hit an all time high.

This week, he comes in with a $180 spa gift certificate for me to make up for last week. So on the surface I have to be all nice and grateful to him. On the inside, I'm boiling thinking this makes him an even bigger d-bag. Who spends $180 on a massage? Do you realize that amount of money would feed me for six weeks? What's wrong with a thank you card? How does (a ridiculous) amount of money count as an apology?

I hate that I'm a haterrr.

the truth

Another note about Saturday... I did NOT watch Hannah Montana. It was mildy painful, but bearable. However, this is only week one in kicking the addiction. I'm not sure if it gets better or worse as time wears on. I do know that I miss her already. Sweet nibblets!

Call me alaps.

So I almost pulled off this Saturday as an adult. ALMOST. I left the house at 6:30 am. I ran to a place called Manny's on Jefferson to pick up "the best corned beef in the world" for my uncle, who is a gruff, blue collar, dirty old man. He alsways calls me sweetheart, affectionately, although he certainly doesn't look like a "sweetheart" slinging kind of guy.

Next task: 8 am needle in the arm, five vials of blood and a successful pee-in-the-cup. Look, Mom! I'm a big kid now.

Next up: 9 am breakfast with Mom. I do this every week, not just because she's recently divorced and my brother is kind of a douche & never visits her. I do it because I like to - and I like her. I wish I could see her more than once a week.

Then we (Mom and I) headed out to the snooty 'burbs to visit the douchey little brother and his girlfriend. On the ride there, I cast on and re-started my scarf. Made great progress and had an enjoyable afternoon with the fam.

I followed this by meeting up with some friends for a few drinks. Discussed politics, history and baseball, and was even able to not get all defensive-in-your-face when it came to a football debate. That shows remarkable restraint. I left at a decent hour. This again shows remarkable restraint.

Once I returned home, I felt that since I had behaved in a bar so well, that I deserved a celebratory drink (or three). And that's when my adultness fell off the map.

I thought I had long since given up on the drunk dial, but in this technologically advancing world we live in, I fell prey to the temptation of drunk texting. I started out texting Sunny about the butt-crack incident that will forever haunt me. Then I moved on to texting Cowboy. It wasn't pretty. It went something like this:

"i like u & u suck. dont pretend u didnt get my VM. u should have called me alaps."

Yeah. Call me alaps. What does that even mean?? Call me Al? Call me in the Alps? Ay yi yi.

Then I come to find out later, that I accidentally drunk dialed Sunny. I'm sure it was a wrong-button-pushing-accident, because I apparently didn't know it was her and really had no reason for calling. Luckily, she found it amusing rather than annoying.

So apparently, I can only be an adult until ten pm. Also, it is apparent that post ten pm, I need to hide the cell phone.

To stop my eyes from burning....

At the gym today (oh the horror) I saw something that I hope no one ever encounters in their life. I'm lifting my little ten pound weights when lo and behold, right there in front of me - the ass crack of a professor I know. The image is burned in my brain and will undoubtedly be the cause of my future full blown alcoholism and cirrhotic liver.



On another note, here's a cute picture.

NO BAILS!!

Four weeks ago, my friend Tee, got a gym membership where Sunny and I work out. Everyday he promises to go with. Everyday he finds some excuse not to. Whether his experiment runs long, or he forgets his brace or his shoes, it's always something. He bails.

Sunny and I have taken to approaching him midday and chanting "No Bails" at him. "No Bails" has become a catchphrase! (Can it actually be a catchphrase if only two people are using it?? Anyway...) I'm pretty sure Tee is going to bail on the gym again today. And that makes me wish I could bail on my weekend. But as one of the co-creators of the "No Bails" slogan that is sweeping the nation (or at least the third floor of our building) I feel like I am held to that policy myself. Although, in case you didn't catch it earlier, I really want to bail on my weekend.

Here's the deal: I live in Chicago. I live in Chicago for all the restaurants and activities and fun things to do on the weekends and the great public transportation. However, this weekend, I will be driving an hour to one suburb for lab tests. Then I'm driving an hour to another suburb to have lunch with my brother and his girlfriend. Then I'm driving another hour to another suburb to meet up with some friends. Then the hour ride home. That's Saturday. Sunday, I have to go drive an hour to meet Cowboy for dinner. That's a lot of driving. To lots of places that aren't Chicago. And while these were all things I was looking forward to (well, minus the labs), it just seems like a bit much for one weekend.

I just want to lounge around, drink beer and watch football. I want to bail. Whoever created this "No Bails" policy is bullshit.

new shirt

I got the girly version of this shirt earlier this week and am wearing it today. I like to sneak in the occasional casual Friday every few months. The image is made out of text from his speeches. I ordered the shirt from http://www.alisonrose.com/.

I'm sold on wearing the shirt throughout the entire weekend, however, I have to mention that I need to wear a sports-bra under this tee. With a regular bra, Barack Obama had chipmunk cheeks. I didn't think that was very Presidential...

Sarah Palin Bingo

After three grants (~900k), two foreign new hires, processing (most) of payroll today, I have had too much of adulthood. I am going home to drink, watch the debate and play Sarah Palin Bingo. http://palinbingo.com/