Gets me to the church on time.

I stole this from Melissa 'n' Stacey.

Ten modern conveniences I take for granted but can't live without:

Now, how modern are we talking here? Since the industrial revolution*? Second half of the 20th century? What?

1. Coffee pot. Not that I don't like Turkish coffee, but it's not an everyday thing.
2. automated library catalogs and databases. Card catalogs, while romantic, are not very practical.
3. Aleve.
4. Suffrage. And civil rights. And Roe v Wade.
5. Cell phones. Especially the part about long distance being the same as local calls.
6. alarm clock/snooze button
7. the concept of adolescence. Kinda hard to be a teen librarian if we all still thought people really became adults at 12.
8. car stereo. No one wants to hear me sing, or see me try to read the paper while I'm driving.
9. plastic faux ziplock sandwich bags. I put EVERYTHING in those guys: lunch, half-knitted socks, broken necklaces I may or may not fix, the other half of that onion I used the other day to make really tasty half-assed burritos.
10. Debit cards.

*That puppy was a dog, but industry was a revolution!

I don't think you knew you were in this song.

I got tagged by Marissa for the ever-popular 5 Things You Probably Don't Know About Me meme. Now I have to try and remember all the stupid things I've told you people over the past 2+ years...

1. Well, there's this: I've got a profile on a date-y site thing. It's a free one (but then, you all already knew I was cheap). I started it in that last town, as a last ditch effort to find someone worth making out with. Didn't work, but it's an entertaining format, and maybe I can meet someone in the new town through it. The site is all "quirky" and gives helpful stats like the fact that I'm apparently (according to some system of theirs I haven't figured out) less loving, more arrogant, and more independent than other girls.
2. When I was home for Christmas, I had the first screaming match with my mom we've had in probably ten years. I mean actual argument--usually it's more like I'm crying and she's not quite getting that I just need someone to let me get it out.
3. I've moved parking chairs to take people's spaces. Non-Yinzers, trust me--this is a big deal.
   
4. If Hilary wins the party nomination, there is a strong, about 75% possibility that I'll be throwing my vote away on a third party. I don't care if it'll split the vote or whatever; at that point, I think it will be a matter of trying to make a point to the Democratic party.
   
5. I still have office supplies that I stole from various temp jobs.

OK, now I have to tag people, right? Melissa, Kim and her brand-new blog, Tiff and they better all be BSC-related, Stacey, Cara, and Raedy, 'cause I know it'll be hiLARious.

She’s clinging to the nearest passerby.

I learned something today. I learned that I am completely without coordination. Here’s how:

The longer I spent in that last town, sedentary and car-commuting, the more I knew I needed to start doing some sort of exercising. Except I never had the extra money to take a class (plus, when you work until 7, you get used to class scheduling difficulties).
So I figured I’d bring some exercise DVDs home from the library I was working at. All I could find was Paula Abdul’s workout video* and a Bollywood thing. Paula had nostalgia going for her; my friend Cindy had the video in college, memorized the dances, and could sometimes be persuaded to do bits at 80s night. If we weren’t too busy with our ridiculous “Like a Prayer” dance, that is. The Bollywood one had good music going for it (bhangra) and the logic that Cara bellydances, and Cara and I 80s night dance similarly, so I thought I could do well.
Oh, how wrong I was. That’s when I remembered that my 80s night Dance Machine style evolved based on how little I can follow someone else’s dance move instruction. There’s a reason why Lara took ballet classes and I filmed Lara’s ballet classes, after all.**
Then I moved here and, while moving into my third floor apartment, got way more winded than necessary. I walk a lot more, but I still need something. And I’m just not a gym kinda girl. Mostly in that I know I don’t have the willpower to motivate myself to go to the gym. Nor do I want to spend the money, or explain to overly friendly gym—mates why I’m wearing a tshirt with “We’re yr inner Kim Gordon & Moe Tucker. We’re here to kick your ass, inner Richard Marx!” on it.
So I put the Punk Rock Aerobics book on my holiday list. It’s kind of perfect for me: instructions for exercises, how to put them together into a respectable class dealie, and song recommendations, including the notion of stretching to Joy Division. And pictures of a pigtailed Mary Timony doing jumping jacks!
Unfortunately, the laptop I’m using right now gets cranky when you try to upload cds, so I had a limited selection for my mix. Luckily, though, Tiff was using this guy to make mixes, so there were still lots of things to choose from. Including London Calling, which is doubly fortunate as pogoing and skanking are two of the few punk rock aerobic moves I really excel at.
Basically, here’s my problem. I can master 2, maybe 2.5, steps. 3 steps I can maybe sometimes get, if they’re baby steps. 4? Naw, I was a mess: losing my balance, falling over shit, the works. I also am pretty much physically incapable of any exercise/dance move that involves moving one’s left leg and right arm at the same time. That whole opposite thing. Also, when I pick my foot up and put it down behind me, it’s never in the same place twice. This is also, if you were wondering, why I do so terribly at Dance Dance Revolution. I lose the arrows.
But I know my weaknesses, and I know the others may come with practice. Now I just need to learn to stop jumping on the loose floorboard in my bedroom.

*Can you believe they bothered to release this in DVD!?
**My first super8 film was from her beginning en pointe class. It looked really good, but I never picked it up from Filmmakers after the big projection night.

Gentlemen don't get caught.

Nabbalicious did this letter meme and I wanted to play too, plus I figure it's good to break up the xboy meanness with frippery, so she gave me B.

1. Books. Yeah, obviously, right? But it's not just the reading. I love the physicality of books, the way old ones smell, the way paperbacks get brittle at a certain point in their lives, the way new ones or ones that weren't chosen well for a specific library crack a bit the first time they're opened, when you can tell that a previous owner had loved this copy. One of my favorite comics is Andi Watson's Dumped, and one of the things I really love about it is Binny's library of used books and his interest in the notes and things in them. There's a word for that, isn't there? (Marginalia—thanks Wikipedia.)
2. Butter. Damn, butter's tasty. Buttery toast is a favorite snack of mine. Butter cookies (and their hardcore cousin, shortbread) are awesomely good and fun to make. I loved every buttery mention in Julie and Julia, and believe me, there are a hell of a lot.
3. Black tights. Making appropriate dresses inappropriate and vaguely punkish for more years than you can shake a stick at! Screw that leggings noise, black tights are where it's at. Now, lately I've been seeing a lot of hipsterish catalog girls in white tights, and I'll try that, but nothing beats owning 5+ pairs of black tights. Or those mornings when I think, which would look better with this skirt and at least 2 layers of shirts: colored fishnets, or black tights? Lately, I've been thinking more and more about pairing some black tights with a short, slightly ratty denim skirt, so I think I'm going to need to rock that soon. (Really, black tights are also the only wardrobe staple of mine that starts with a B, so I figure they can stand in for my whole obsession with clothes, right?)
4. Bring It On, Baseketball, etc. I heart dumb comedies. “Steve Perry…Steve Perry!” “These are jazz hands; these are spirit fingers.” I could go on and on.
5. Bravado. Deep down, I'm kind of a pansy and a wuss. I'm also really shy. Thanks to bravado, though, I can totally play it off like I'm the ballsiest girl in the room. Or 3rd largest city in the state, as the case may be.
6. Belle and Sebastian. Definitely in my top 3 bands, if not the top. And a great show. But really, don't I go on and on about them enough here? Was the link to Stuart's Diary listed under “My Soul Mate” not enough? What about the period where I kept posting giant pictures of Stuart in various hats? My love of Belle and Sebastian, and my interest in not only being a B&S completist, but a vinyl B&S completist, keeps my indie stereotype cred nice and shiny, no matter how much I heart the new Killers single or pretend my favorite song is “Summer of 69”. When I was in the Austin airport, waiting for my plane back to Pittsburgh and admiring the 12” of “This is Just a Modern Rock Song” I had just bought, a boy sauntered past, Fold Your Hands Child, You Walk Like a Peasant under his arm.
7. Being in a city again. Damn, it feels good. People keep talking shit on this city, but trust me, they don't know how good they have it. I've been to shows and record stores and people are friendly and not all the same. And there's 2 free weeklies: a real one, and one of the fake kind real newspapers came out with when they realized that 20somethings weren't buying their classified ads--uh, I mean newspapers.
8. buffet, Indian. Yum. After the holidays, it's time to start figuring out the best in my vicinity. Or go to Louisville and rock some Indian buffet with Stacey and the World's Faggiest Boy Scout Troop.
9. Banal things as art. Like this. Or Warhol. Or that installation from 2 Carnegie International's ago where the artist built these intricate, site-specific installations using styrofoam, matchbooks, floss, and the like. And incidentally, how's that for showing off my pretentious vocabulary and ridiculous taste in art all in one section?
10. Big thrift stores. Seems like most thrift fans either like the tiny, all piled up willy-nilly neighborhood thrifts or the giant strip mall variety. I'm a giant strip mall, myself. You get a shopping cart and fill it with shoes and lamps and sweaters and coffee mugs and prom glasses and plush things that shouldn't be plush and you can spend all day there. Good times.

(I've got the REM song “Carnival of Sorts (Box cars)” running through my head now. Stupid B.)
Now I'm guessing I can assign letters to other interested parties as well. Leave a comment if you want one. Especially you, Kim. It can be the first post in the blog you're going to start.

Colin did not laugh. Instead, he thought, Tampons have strings? Why?*

A couple products have been pissing me off as of late.
We all know I love my big black eyeshadow circles, right? I use Cargo eye shadow (black isn't on the link, though). One of the reasons I went with Cargo was because of how big and deep the little dish-thing looked.
Well, it isn't. There's a steadily growing silver spot at the bottom of my eyeshadow, and I'm pissed off.
Plus, I was on the phone with my mom when I discovered this and got subsequently riled up, and there was a long explanation involved.
See, you have to understand, too: I looked FOREVER for a black matte eyeshadow. Not dark grey, but black. I used to have the perfect one (also Cargo), but it cracked in several pieces and then everytime I used it I was also playing CSI: Jessy's Apartment and collecting fingerprints from every damn surface.**
***
A box of 40 regular absorbency o.b. tampons is $7-fucking-.50 at the Walgreens near my apartment. Luckily, they were running a buy-one-get-one sale, or I would have been really mad. And I've been watching a lot of Deadwood lately, so that's kind of a scary thought.
I noticed that the box was talking up some sort of new and improved grooves along the outside of each tampon that are supposedly going to absorb more, but I didn't think on it too much because that's about when I passed the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Christmas Trees*** and had to buy one.
Yeah, those grooves? Not real absorbent. More like imcompetent. They're like little slides for the icky and the goo. It's like a water park of unabsorbency, and I keep picturing Napoleon at the water slides.
Where's my Ziggy Piggy, o.b.? Where!?
(Incidentally, you can tell I've got a crush that's getting a bit out of hand because even during the 2-boxes-of-applicatorless-tampons-and-a-Reese-Christmas-Tree Walgreen's trip, I was wondering if I'd run into him.) (And I'm listening to Belle and Sebastian cover "Don't Fear the Reaper" right now. It's pretty damn sweet.)

*Green, John. An Abundance of Katherines, 2006. My MLA/AACR bastard citation style is unstoppable. Dude, just read the damn book. I'm auditioning for a Hassan, incidentally. Except I think the ruckus I caused earlier tonight at Applebees puts me in the running for Tiff's Hassan. You know, after she comes back from her Grease reality show callbacks.
**The theme song to CSI: Jessy's Apartment is "Boris the Spider".
***Not as good as the eggs, but better than the pumpkins.

like some French filmmaker's plot

Red (over at The Cupcake Tent) has a list of 20 things she doesn't like that "everyone" else does.
Since I'm a contrarian--gets up to check the dictionary for the spelling of that one, and hopes that, for once, she doesn't forget what word she's looking up by the time she gets to said dictionary--Um, apparently "contrarian" isn't a word, but "cosmopolite" is, and I'm totally one of those, too.
***
Since I'm a contrarian (yay, internet), a cosmopolite (sensing a new favorite word?), and days like today always make me happy (hot sun, cool fall breeze, I'm wearing tights), here's my list of "20 Reasons Why You Probably Shouldn't Like Me", except mine are all things I like that no one else seems to. Or at least, things that the sort of people I tend to populate my social circles with proclaim to dislike. Or something to that effect.

1. Let's begin at the beginning, shall we? I know I've mentioned it before, but James from Twin Peaks. I began by pretending I was in LUV with James because I thought it was funny, and everyone else in the Twin Peaks Club at Pitt (that's totally not even the nerdiest thing in this post, I'm warning you) audibly hated him.
2. Scrubbing things. Not often, mind you, but I'll take getting-rid-of-the-dirt cleaning over organizing-my-crap cleaning any day of the week. This is a rarity in the World of the Librarian.
3. While we're in the World of the (Public) Librarian, the Dewey Decimal System can kiss my ass. Library of Congress all the way, fools!
4. There are a bunch of verboten color combinations I really like, but I'm still planning a fall fashion blog at some point. This is my attempt to not be repetitive for once.
5. Arrogant, somewhat asshole-ish boys. Not for any kind of big, important relationship, mind you. Just for hanging out, making out fun. In my (very limited) personal experience, whiny sensitive boys just get scared off, never tell you, and you're left wondering what you did wrong to this nice boy. With assholes, there's no surprise when they never call you again. Sometimes with "nice" boys, you feel like you're waiting for the other shoe to drop.
6. Faux-hippie pop songs from the 60s. Like, the kind of song with lyrics such as, "I think you're groovy/we should go to a movie" or, really, the majority of the Donovan oevre.
7. Gas stoves. Screw that electric noise.
8. Old apartments with character. Yes, my air conditioning doesn't work, trying to use a level to hang shelves and things is futile because the floors are all uneven, and half the walls have water/mold stains, but I'll be much happier than in something that looks like a motel room. Until my bathroom ceiling falls in, that is.
9. Grey days. I like rain, too, but I really love those overcast weeks in February and November when everything becomes monochromatic until you break out the hot pink scarf or tapestry-patterned swing coat.
10. Ice cream and french fries together. Actually, I suspect this is something a lot of people like, they just don't admit to it.
11. I'm not a children's librarian, to the point of getting offended whenever anyone makes the mistake that I am one (TEENS, dude.), but I still keep up with new picture books.
12. TEENAGERS. I think the number one question your average teen librarian gets asked (or maybe #2, after "So, you mean like Sweet Valley High?") is, "Why? How can you stand them?" And then I wonder how many of those people have ever had to, say, figure out why a toddler book is sticky, or have a poorly disciplined five year old throw a Veggie Tales video at them.
13. Mixing silver and gold jewelry. Although Jackie's all about this, too, I think.
14. Pretentious avant garde, nonnarrative film. Especially if it in some way comments on the nature of filmmaking, or the materiality of film itself.
15. Dinosaurs. And I don't just mean, I wanted to be a paleontologist when I was 5 like everyone else (actually, I wanted to be an astronaut when I was 5. When I wasn't playing Library, that is). I mean Ross on Friends, was excited to go home in part to see the tiny feathered dino fossils from China, recognized Sue the T-Rex on a friend's fridge, like dinosaurs.
16. Same with mummies, things they've pulled out of peat bogs, and the early middle ages.
17. Overly earnest lo-fi bedroom 8-track pop.
18. Pictures of strangers, like the ones abandoned at thrift stores.
19. Bad sitcoms. I try to watch every new sitcom, every fall, at least once. Most of them I only watch once, but still--I'm fascinated by the format of the cheesy, overdone sitcom, and all its slight permutations. I always thought the Bloomfield apartment (yuckiest. roommate. ever. well, of mine.) would be good sitcom material. The theme song would be The Replacements' "Heyday". Tiff and Cara, would, of course, be the wacky neighbors.
20. "On the Air". Poor, poor, "On the Air". No one likes you; David Foster Wallace HATES you. But I think you're keen.

one thing that you gotta do to make me still want you

I'm declaring a moratorium on some conversation topics.

The Babyboomer Mystique OK, fine, we give. You guys Changed the World and are better than everyone else. We've fully bought into the spin (who is it spinning these stories, anyway?); can we go back to trying to make a subsistence wage while not living with our parents, finding a meaningful job, and protesting our own unjust war without the comparisons, please? And speaking of that unjust war...

Jovial Prejudice I would like for people to stop assuming I think the same as them. How hypocritical is it of "conservative" people to simultaneously whine about their values being attacked by everyone and assume everyone shares their values?

This Town Sucks Is it lame and boring and no one does anything and when someone does try to start something (cough stitch'n'bitch cough) no one shows up? Yes.
Am I sick and fucking tired of having this conversation? Hell yes.
And just a tip, 'cause I guess I've lived in more cities than your average 26yrold: those narrow minded unhappy people you work with? They live everywhere.
And continuing to discuss the awfulness of it all is only contributing to the awfulness. I have a lot more fun here when I'm not talking about how little fun I'm having.

Things You Just Collect, Rather Than Collect To Enjoy I can give you a reason why I like other people's prom glasses (heh--I'm down with OPPG) and Belle and Sebastian vinyl. I'm not one of those people with a thousand cds I haven't listened to in years. Let's talk about things that are fun, not things you happen to have a lot of.

Gossip Girls Does the recoiling-in-horror from the new wave of trashy YA series remind anyone else of the recoiling-in-horror from gangsta rap in the 90s?

The Oscars Are Unfair Of course the Oscars don't always go to the most deserving person/movie/whatever. There's all kinds of stupid politics, plus the ridiculousness of judging "Best Picture". Let's save our vitriol for Hilary Swank's lipsgloss and John Williams' work, shall we?

MySpace is Evil When I was 13, some guy in his 20s started spreading these stories about the 2 of us, based on small talk we made while waiting for the bus.
Should "children" be protected from waiting for the bus as well?
Plenty of libraries put pictures of their teen volunteers or advisory groups or whatever online. What's to stop creeps from using ANY internet site with pictures of minors from harrassing said minors?
Shouldn't we just be teaching kids to protect themselves?

Some Things You Don't Have To Say To Me, Since I Assume Them About Anyone I'm Talking To

• Yes, you can find some really good things at thrift stores.
  
• Gay people aren't icky.
  
• Making things is fun.
  
• Really, I like to hypocritically assume that anyone I talk to shares my values, as a nice, adult, passive-aggressive way of counteracting the aforementioned jovial prejudice.

Some Conversation Topics I Never Get Sick Of

• Simpsons/The State/Princess Bride references
  
• dinosaurs
  
• other nerdy science crap
  
• the Baby-Sitters Club
  
• goofy non sequitors
  
• who's had the worse job
  
• who's had the worse roommate
  
• food
  
• art
  
• film noir
  
• immature jokes that are no longer funny
  
• yarn
  
• candy (except right now, when I'm literally kind of sick b/c I ate too many Cadbury minieggs on an empty stomach)
  
• cheap plastic toys
  
• plush things that shouldn't be plush (really, I just like talking about Tree)
  
• public transportation

It was no bigger than a nickel.

Some random update-type things.

1. I think I've finally permanently remembered the html tag for numbered lists! So that's exciting...
   
2. Tax return got deposited, actually a few days ago. So I ordered the green Hello Kitty sewing machine (Fig. A.).
   
3. Me 'n' Melissa decided to make this Spring more fun with Jessy & Melissa's Super Fun Scavenger Hunt. You guys should totally play along. Basically, it's an excuse to take pictures of random junk.
   
4. Here's the flickr group for the Scavenger Hunt.
   
5. I'm reading the Street Angel comic right now (Fig. B.). It's real good.
   

Fig. A.


Fig. B.

and he's taking it like a beating

Things I neglected to mention earlier.

Last night I knitted up some of the yarn I dyed, to test gauge for making this out of the pink lemonade stuff and to see how the rest looked. Plus, I ran out of baby blanket yarn and can't buy more until the SuperJoanns opens at the end of the week, so I was fidgety and hurting for a project.
I was playing with the light green and thinking about scarves to match my winter coat. Then, this morning, I remember this stuff:
.
It's basically a string with sequins spaced periodically that you hold along with another yarn so that there's a sequin every so often.
If this came in pink, I could knit it with the green and make the best disco/prep scarf ever!
Yeah, it doesn't come in pink. I'm thinking green and silver would be pretty, but not as fun as my original idea.
If anyone has any other ideas, let me know
***

veronica and i decided that you will have at least eight children and live on a farm in the south

My sister left this comment on my MySpace a couple days ago. At first I thought it was funny, but, after our phone conversation last night, not so much. Because she said that she really could see that. And used the phrase "Earth mother." And I wonder, does my sister not know me at all?
My general distaste for babies?
That I have trouble sleeping unless there are traffic noises and the occasional siren?
Etc.?

I am so smart...SMRT

Now, many people are unaware of this, but my primary occupation here in town seems to be entertaining Melissa. Tonight, for example, we have our weekly Project Runway date. She also never fails to laugh at my terrible jokes. For example, Melissa claims to enjoy my Billboard posts.
Of course, she could just be an excellent liar.
Melissa does this thing on her blog that she pretends to be taking a break from where she puts up things that people have said around her that she's been taken with.
But she doesn't give them any kind of context. This is what we're doing here today.

April 18, 2005: "I've decided on a new rule of thumb. If a guy is into zombies he's not allowed to see me naked." -Jessy

Well, this doesn't really need more explanation or context; I think I did enough in these comments. I did, however, have some awkward moments with explanations to people about the amount of interest in zombies I would allow. At Turoni's. After Joan Jett. To people who (let's be honest) weren't ever going to be in that particular boat.

August 19, 2005: "Well, it looks like there is a band tonight. Either that or horse racing." -Jessy

I am a cheap bastard. I hate when bars have covers on a specific night, when all you're planning on doing is the same thing you do any other night, and get to do for free. Or, you know, whatever the revolving pitcher price is.
And I hate trying to determine whether or not there's going to be a cover, because I also think it's really rude to the bouncer to say, You know what? I'm not paying your $3. Never mind. and walk away.* Which is why, walking up to the back of the bar on a Friday evening, I observed that there was a trailer in the parking lot.
And everyone knows that there are only 2 reasons why anyone would need a trailer: band equipment or a horse.
Or maybe I've just driven 64 between Lexington and Louisville too many times.

September 22, 2005: "This would be my fave Depeche Mode song, by the way." -Jessy

I don't remember saying this at all. Although "Blasphemous Rumors" is played infrequently enough for me to comment on it.
See, here's the thing, though: when this appeared on Melissa's blog, I distinctly remember having heard "People are People" the night before, which is my least favorite Depeche Mode song. And not just because it's the only one Lou knows.
***
At ILL (my college job) one boring summer day, we matched up coworkers with Alice in Wonderland characters and I got the Caterpillar. The explanation I got was that I "say weird stuff a lot," frequently nonsequitorically.
Did I just make that word up?

*I have never ever claimed I made sense. Never.

It's just like that time I let you vote for me.

Graveyard-esque library + CosmoGirl! Quiz Book (DDC # 305.235 COS 2004) = blog post.

Find Your Power Color:17 points = Red. I'm spontaneous and passionate and I shouldn't "hide that fiery spirit", whatever that means.
--You know, it's always weird trying to tailor teen questions to my life. I mean, is how much energy do I have after school my energy level after a day of high school, college, librarian school, or a job? My current job, or a former one? THis is tough!--

What Kind of Car are You?: 16 = Mercedes-Benz Convertible
"Every detail about your vehicle rocks."

What Kind of Shoe are You?: tie! Sexy Stiletto and Kick-Butt Boot. Which actually kinda fits with my personality, when you think about it.
--When I get "glammed up" for a party, do I want people to say I look like Reese Witherspoon, Britney Spears, Katie Holmes, or Avril Lavigne? I guess I have to pick Avril, since I've got a tendency towards white tshirts and too much black eyeshadow. Plus, I'm knitting armwarmers (in dark gray alpaca!) but I legitimately need them to keep my arms warm.

What Ice Cream Flavor Are You?: strawberry. Next to the scoring page, there's a girl in a bulky stripey sweater and either no pants or the world's shortest shorts.
Now I have to identify with Mandy Moore, Alanis Morissette, Alicia Keys, or Gwen Stefani. Well, Mandy was in Saved and according to her Lucky spread a few months ago, she loves a good tshirt, so I guess I'll pick her.
Also, does my dream guy remind me of some tennis player, Tobey Maguire, Enrique Iglesias, or Ashton Kutcher?

What Decade Do You Belong In?: tie between 70s and 80s. Shock me, shock me, shock me with my deviant quiz results!

What's Your Internal Weather Report?: partly cloudy, partly sunny
Didn't we already cover my moody nature in the astrological post?

Do You Have a Sixth Sense?: I'm extra perceptive.

What's Your Metropolitan Match?: tie--Prague or NYC
Oh, I've been to Prague.

What Color Is Your Love Life?: Crushing Coral, or, as I like to call it, I Have My Own Life Houndstooth. Plus, I look like ass in coral.
Gosh, anyone with the stamina to read this far has learned sooooo much about me!

Why Don't You Have a Boyfriend?: 15 = You're booked! Or, I don't drop everything for a boy. I think it really hurt me when I opted to not pat the hot soccer guy's ass. (Real question!) But I think Stacey and/or Richard might get a little jealous if I grabbed someone else's butt.
Heh. I think we all have our theories on that one, don't we? Shall we share them in the comments field, perhaps? Be as blunt as you'd like everyone, I'm desperate to know.

Oh, crap, even this is boring. That's enough revelatory self-evaluation for one night.

Happy _____, everyone.

Hey baby...

Barring anything better to do with my life (little fiddly ends of a striped scarf? knitted Henry? Librarianing??--pshaw), I've been reading my horoscope again lately.
At my undergrad job at the infamous ILL, we had at least 6 different horoscope sites bookmarks, and every day, we would pick and choose between them. I don't remember what any of them were, now, although I do think Excite was involved.
--Wow, I didn't even know Excite was still around.--
I just took a quiz that's supposed to tell me how I match up to my sign, but they want to email results, and don't I get enough spam anyway?
Here's what Yahoo says today is like for me

The next day or two -- and maybe more -- will be startling to say the least. A family member's announcement regarding a secret you thought would never see daylight will catch you off guard. You and all other parties concerned.

Hmmm, I guess Mom will finally find out where all her Dylan records really are.

Actually, my horoscopes today are kind of all-around boring. Even my year-of-the-sheep/goat one is lame. But just look at this cute l'il guy: . How could he steer me wrong?
Speaking of cute...

Here are some Cancerian highlights from The Only Astrology Book You'll Ever Need, Second Edition by Joanna Martine Woolfolk (Dewey, excuse me DUI, # 133.5 WOL 2001):

No one has ever said Cancerians are easy to understand. You may appear gentle, kind, sympathetic, and a patient listener. Then someone asks for advice, and you turn cranky, snappish, and appear to be completely indifferent to anyone's problems but your own. You may wallow in self-pity and complain endlessly about how mistreated you are by the world. Turn another page of the calendar and suddenly you are back being helpful, solicitous, ready to do anything asked of you. More than any other sign, Cancer is a series of contradictions. You prize security above all else, yet love new adventure. You are the soul of caution but you're also a courageous initiator who goes out of your way to push over obstacles with your driving personality.

In short, I'm a crazy, moody bitch who's also a lovely person. But we all knew that, right?
Seriously, we can all joke about this stuff, but some days, these things are scary right: "You don't trust others or the universe or yourself."
"You are cautious about revealing too much of yourself; you guard your secrets well."
And then there's more of the crabs-have-a-hard-shell stuff.
And then the ego stroking: "You are artistic and creative, and have formidable intellectual talents."

Princess Diana, Meryl Streep, and Ernest Hemingway are Cancers. So are Helen Keller (we have the same birthday), and our own Cara.

Oh, and my trees are "trees rich in sap".

Apparently, I'd like a date involving a restaurant with strolling musicians.
This is not true.

I'm also in the first decanate of Cancer, which I'm sure is something real, but sounds like the name of a person who can change into an animal in an Amelia Atwater-Rhodes book. This means I "have ave excellent memory for feelings and impressions..., but ordinary day-to-day details escape you."
Yup.

"...salt should be avoided...Cancer people should stay away from spicy, highly seasoned food..."
Screw that noise.

Now, wasn't this more informative than me bitching about Billboard?

Read this, or you aren't my friend.

Twee as Fuck.
Also, Meg Cabot's latest entry is freakin' hilarious.
***
Someday, when I'm no longer spending library $$ at an incredible rate or figuring out how to make soaps that look like cupcakes with middle school girls, I'll have another real post, full of wheelchairs, princesses, giddiness, and my usual crankiness.
I promise.

I also have a Billboard list in the wings.

Oh, I'm so obsessed, it's not even funny. I love things that make me laugh out loud like a crazy person at the reference desk.

Things I don't love:
October is shaping up to be crazy for me. Teen Read Week, other work shit, Fall Festival, Humor, craziness! Plus, I have to work Halloween weekend (in addition to having a program EVERY OTHER weekend this month), which is lame.
And I've caught myself a cold. So Sunday, I was all about the sick hermitting and the sleeping, because it's not like I could take any time off, what with class visits and readers clubs and Teen Read Week and such.
At 9AM, I am awoken by drums. Do I now have an irritating neighbor with a drum kit? No, b/c then loud, loudspeakered music begins. Is there some sort of church function? No, unless "Whomp! There it is!" is now Christian pop.
It's the finish line for the half-marathon festivities.
Sound travels incredibly well downtown at 9AM on a Sunday morning.
And it's not like I don't already think running is stupid, unless you're about to miss a bus or need to escape something bad.

up to the minute blog action

I just had something happen that I should have added to Wednesday night's list:

45. When I blush, it's almost always when I'm not actually embarrassed. I haven't figured out why this happens, but it's like shyJessy sneaks out for a second, realizes what I'm doing/saying, and makes my face all red. It's weird, because I always notice in this detached way, then wonder if I'm doing something maybe most people would be embarassed by.

My album's coming out on HugTown Records.

I'm terrifically bored right now, sitting at work on a Church Night here in my tiny library town. My brain is all fuzzy, from sitting outside in the sun and listening to the Runescape junkies next to me. I'm hoping that, as I type, I'll come up with something interesting to say, or at least my usual level of uninteresting. Maybe another story, like the blind date one?
No, I can feel it...here it comes...A Bunch of Things About Me, In No Particular Order (b/c I just want to be like Melissa, but several months ago):

1. I like bulleted lists. With or without numbers.
2. I actually LOVE all kinds of lists. I was reading my "free" issue of Real Simple the other night, and the only thing that saves this magazine from being utterly brittle and shrill, like a combination of Martha Stewart and Melissa Rivers, is their readers' tips section. This month, it was about saving time. My favorite 2 tips were the woman who keeps a card with useful random information like vacuum bag size, printer cartridge type, etc., in her purse (this is so fucking brilliant I can't stand it) and the woman who has made up a master sheet of common errands she has to run and grocery items she often needs. When she runs errands, she simply circles what she needs to do on a copy of the sheet.
3. Lists make me feel organized. I'm so utterly unorganized, that I need to force myself to make endless lists, systematically file things at work, and keep a day planner.
4. This doesn't make me any more organized than you; I'm just a fuck-up that tries not to be.
5. I'm also not really an extrovert. I'm a big ball of shy-assed goo that forces itself to not be.
6. Shy-assed goo with kick-ass shoes.
7. Hey! Rhyming on the list!
8. Running errands is one of my favorite things to do. Not only do I love getting things done and feeling accomplished (makes up for all those other Sundays I spend on my ass, watching Buffy DVDs and attempting to keep the cats away from the tortilla chips, or on my porch reading YA novels and attempting to keep the cats off the screen), running errands also involves making lists and checking things off said lists.
9. Just about everything I love about the summer happened last weekend. I went to a show, read some kinda overblown fantasy, had popsicles, danced like a goober, logged some crush time, drank crap beer, had a picnic, rolled down a hill, went to a cheap movie, drank too much coffee too late at night, had a rambling and somewhat coherent conversation sort of late at night on my porch, and went to the craft store.
10. At the craft store, I bought fake flowers (real fake) to wear in my hair. I'm totally rocking the flowers all damn summer long.
11. Saturday night I called my mom on someone else's phone, slightly drunk and very silly, to ask her if my parents still had the video Lara, this girl Jasmine, and I made lip-syncing and dancing to "Hangin' Tough".
12. The thing my mom says that irritates me the most is, "I don't mean to sound unsympathetic..."
13. The 2nd thing is, "Do it for me." This usually accompanies some kind of request to do something for my sister that I've been willing to do on my own for a long time.
14. I totally buy into that whole theory that says birth order is responsible for a lot of character traits.
15. While I smirk when the Girl Who Wears Half-Gloves To 80s Night is brought up, secretly I kind of wish I had rocked that, or thought up something equally as great. No one else does that shit, and no one probably ever will.
16. I really really don't like eleven year olds.
17. I find it frustrating when I have half the information I need. Like, there's an envelope for $$ and a bunch of raffle slips in the info desk drawer, and I have a note from the last staff meeting in my trusty work notebook (Nyanko Burger--I'm nothing if not professional) that says a quilt will be raffled off for Relay for Life (if you want to donate and sponsor me, somehow let me know), but I don't have anything that says when the raffle will be, or how much each chance cost.
18. Am I the only person who sees a similarity between the new looks of VOYA and Billboard magazines?
19. While I can be the meanest girl in the world when it comes to bad pickups, as my MySpace friends can now attest and some guy in a puka shell necklace found out Saturday night, I'm all over a good pickup line. They're just so damn few and far between, and the best one I've ever heard, I said.
20. It was, "Hey! Wanna see the picture of Iggy Pop where he looks just like Kim Gordon?" and then the book flipped right open to that page. Damn.
21. I want a tshirt that says "Who's Your Librarian?"
22. I also want one with a heart, a skull and crossbones, and the word Librarian. Not neccessarily in that order.
23. Here are some words I have trouble spelling: piece, neccessary, reccomendation.
24. The other night, I was bitching about how crappy my health coverage is because I have a $30 copay to someone with a $50 copay, so then I felt kinda schmucky.
25. I prefer salty snacks to sweet ones.
26. I still think Where the Wild Things Are has the best book ending, ever.
27. I still know most of the words to Madeline, and all of "Alligators All Around" from Really Rosy.
28. When I was a tiny little Jessy, my favorite Sesame Street muppet was Guy Smiley. My parents took us to see Sesame Street Live, and I cried because my boy wasn't in it.
29. I'm not sure what it says about me that, at 4, I loved a game show host huckster-in-felt, but whatever it is, I like it.
30. I wish Yoda was my neighbor.
31. I'm playing Alchemy right now while I think of other things.
32. I think of the dinosaurs at the Carnegie Museum as old friends, especially the triceratops skull and the brontosaur bone you can touch.
33. Slapstick is funny to me. I play like I'm a conscientious girl, and o! so grown up, but if you fall, I'll probably laugh. Of course, if I fall, I'll laugh harder.
34. At the show Saturday night, there was a kid in a Smashing Pumpkins shirt and it struck me that, had I worn my Pumpkins shirt out when I first started going to shows, I would have been so ostracized. Such is sceniness, I guess.
35. I love a good fantasy novel like almost nothing else, but I can't slog through Tolkien.
36. Loved the movies though, for the same reason I like YA historical fiction: someone else has done the work and the research for me.
37. If someone gave me a buttload of money and I had to either use it to either move to a better apartment or replace the cabinets and counter in my current place, I'd replace the cabinets and counter. Might use the extra to give my downstairs neighbors some etiquette lessons though.
38. 'Cause them throwing chicken at a hot girl to get her attention is never going to stop being funny to me, even as I'm kind of horrified by it.
39. I've moved at least once a year, including dorm rooms and back to my parents' house, since I was 17.
40. Right now, I'm rereading the first four Stephen (Steven?) King Dark Tower books so I can finally read the rest of the series and remember what's gone before.
41. I'm already planning how hermitty I'm going to be July 16 and 17. Nerdy, I know.
42. I read really fast.
43. I can't abide stupidity, but I also don't like when people act like their innate intelligence is some huge personal accomplishment. Your parents might be able to say that, but I think a lot of it's just out of a person's hands. I read this short story when I was in high school and a kid in it said that being proud of his intelligence would be like being proud of his arm: it's always been there, and he didn't do much to put it there.
44. I don't remember the name of the collection this was in, but I think it was award-winning stuff written by teenagers.

OK, I've rambled on long enough here. To Gem Drop!

my collating style is unstoppable

Some people save lives. They cure cancer, or I think about the people that keep planes from crashing. (OK, it's been a long time since my last Mallrats viewing. This is supposed to reference Doherty's breakup speech to Jason Lee. Sorry.) Some of my greatest talents? I can identify any Brady Bunch episodes within the first 15 seconds, just about. I can find you a story, in some format or another, you'll enjoy. I also make one hell of an amateur stylist/personal shopper. I have no problem bravado-ing my way through just about any social situation and/or home improvement project. And I kick ass at repetitive menial tasks.
Seriously. Ever notice how quickly I type remarkably similar numbers into a computer, over and over again?
31912 this is the beginning of every item barcode at the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh
11912 this is the beginning of every patron barcode at the Carnegie
29205 patrons where I am now
392050 items where I am now
And I suspect, if I really tried, my fingers could still remember the first 5-7 digits of the University of Pittsburgh barcodes, something I haven't needed to know since May 2000...31735. Told you.
Janice and I used to talk about trying to "race" the copiers at our individual student administrative assistant jobs, trying to flip to the next journal page and smash down the bound journal before the light under the glass went away, trying to keep the beat steady. If I get cancer, and it's not lung cancer from the 68D and 67F, not to mention all of the trucks on their way to 376, or second-hand smoky 80s nights, it will be caused by years of making copies with the lid up.
My temp jobs didn't bring out my talent nearly as much as one might think, except when I was working on my trading cards. A coffee house job, on the other hand, is tailor-made for me. I loved the act of grinding, pressing, steaming, etc., especially once I mastered foaming milk. Sometimes I still kind of miss the actual making coffee drinks part of the coffee job. Anyone want to buy me a commercial espresso machine? Setting it up in my kitchen sounds like one hell of a home improvement project for me to bluster through.
With Kinko's, my talent hit paydirt. NOTE: this was nowhere near enough to keep the job from sucking. However, the moments when I was in the back, not having to worry about punkass customers, collating or binding, folding or stapling, were probably when I hated Kinko's the least. One Sunday I stapled hundreds of 1/4 sheet sized booklets using a stand-up saddle-stapler, perfectly content and at quite a pace. This was also, I believe, the hungover Sunday I discovered that my hangover breaking point is not small poorly disciplined children running around a public library, but Simply Red. Really, a career-making point in Jessy's life.
Why bring all this up now, other than because it's a slow-ass Wednesday night and I don't feel like doing a home visit recap or playing Alchemy? Because I think I've finally come to terms with the fact that I'll never be able to plie, or perform open heart surgery, or have a gallery in New York (or screech about having a gallery in New York while pouring beer on my head--jury's still out on my dream of being someone else's Christian Joy, though). But I'm damn good at collating, and I was doing some of that earlier today.
The thing about repetitive mindless tasks is that, while your hands are doing the same thing over and over again, your mind gets to wander. This is perfect for a beer label peeling, fingernail munching, where'd my embroidery go girl like me. And today, as I was putting together summer reading program propaganda, all this is what I was thinking about.

and I'm so glad that you were fired

OK, it's getting on that time of year where I start thinking about how I want to spend my summer. Here are some scenes I've been fixated on lately, when the grayness becomes too much even for me (and I like gray):
1. sitting on my balcony with my morning coffee, maybe a book, or in the early evening with a crossword, or...really, just spending as much time on the thing as possible.
2. walking over to a kind of dive-y bar for a nice late afternoon beer (something about my work schedule may have to be changed for this one--or maybe it's on a Friday?)
3. Picnics! With fruit salad, like the one I made for the leaving-Philadelphia picnic, where I went overboard and cut out the watermelon with a star cookie cutter. And records. And lots of salt, like the one Tiff, Cara, and I had 4th of July one year where we were all PMSing and it was all deviled eggs and sour cream and onion chips.
Want to join me? Interested parties should apply at the office. By which I mean the comments field. Or if you're extra-special, you have my email.
I should also mention that, in all of above scenarios, I'm wearing black shorts, kinda knee-length and Bermuda-y, and Chinese cloth mary janes. And maybe for a picnic I've got the 25 cent tube top on.

I want to sho-oo-oot the whole day down.

I hate Fridays. They are possibly my least favorite day of the week. I know, everyone thinks I'm crazy now. But trust me on this one. I'm 'bout to list my reasons.
As a side note, I've been really bulleted list-happy lately.

Why my Fridays suck

• I have to get up at 6:21. Why the :21? Because my finger was too fast on my alarm clock.
• I have to shower before coffee, which leads to the dilemma: which is worse, pre-coffee tooth-brushing and coffee aftertaste all morning, or the threat of toothpaste on most likely primarily black outfit?
• No time for morning litter clean-up.
• I swear, Legs is more annoying on Fridays.
• "Morning Edition" repeats itself. Friday's the only morning I'm awake for repetition.
• Also, innumerable repetitions of local "news".
• At work at 8AM=super fucking long feeling day.
• That's a day with almost no public desk time, which means no internet or printer. You know how much work I have that doesn't involve the internet or a printer in some way? I can't even look through journals without checking to see what book covers look like. (Oh, I updated this post with a picture of the UK cover.) Anything I type up will eventually have to be taken outside of my office, physically, on a disk, to print.
• My office is very small, and shared with a coworker who keeps just about everything she's ever made. This is mostly a problem because I'm a packrat, too.
• Up at 6:21 AM=super tired by 10 PM.
• See how hard my life is?

You know what day I do like? Saturday. I like waking up on Saturdays with a full 2 days to do whatever I want.
You know what else I like? Circle skirts. I think I need a new one.
Up at 6:21 AM=this kind of random.

Success at last!

So I finally had a program people actually came to. Hurray! And if the publishing world and MLS students on YALSA-BK weren't such topic nazis sometimes, I'd be gloating about this there. I mean, really, does young adult librarianship need more than one listserv? Do I really have to wade through every stupid PUBYAC message about cannibalism in the Minnie and Moo books or nursery rhyme storytimes just to ask a question maybe 10% of the list's subscribers could help me with?
Sorry, I just can't help a PUBYAC rant.
Anyway, I had 17 kids show up! That's more than most of the kid programs get. And I kept 17 teenagers entertained for 3 hours. Who's not impressed? The sushi making would have gone better had my knife been as sharp as I thought it was, but everyone had lots of fun and ate lots of Pocky and popcorn. Incidentally, those manga preview collections make great prizes.
Saturday afternoon went so well, I was only slightly annoyed at the lack of boy call Saturday night. 'Course, he also apparently has no phone due to a recent move, which is a whole different kind of boything than stupid-boy-not-calling.
And then Sunday I found my stamps, and I now have a clean bedroom. This is very exciting. I also have 2 large boxes of stuff I'll be donating to the local thrift. I hope someone cool gets my penguin skirt. I also found my reading log book and realized it's time for yet another attempt at keeping track of all the books I read. So, look forward to more reviews/spoilers/etc.
And: May 6 May 6 May 6! I really can't wait for the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy movie.
Really, there's only one thing that could bring me down right now. The Caribbean Couple. And there they are! More dressed up than usual, too. Of course, they usually come in Wednesday nights, so why are they here!? The Caribbean Couple are not truly horrible patrons (unlike the 10 year olds who threw a highlighter at the poor page--really, most of our 10 year old patrons annoy me. Hopefully they'll stop sucking before they're mine). The Caribbean Couple are just irritating and show-offy. The first time Mr. Caribbean came in, he was telling me more than I ever needed to know about his family's upcoming move to the Caribbean--hence the name. I faked impressment (I know that's not a word. What is the noun form of impress? Integrious!), but what I was in fact thinking was, Hurrah! An annoying patron who I know is leaving soon! Then I found out they're moving in a year. Honestly, I don't remember what bothered me about them at first, I just know I give a little sigh when they come in, and everytime they come in, I find out more about their stupid family than I care to know. Mrs. Caribbean Couple has a purse that says "Baby Girl", despite her incoming 2nd grandchild. They are also mad at my Wednesday night comrade for "forcing [their] daughter from her computer," if by forcing what you actually mean is telling the 9 year old she's too young for the internet. I could go on and on.
How come everyone bitches about teenaged library patrons and looks at me like I'm a fucking martyr, when kids and adults annoy me so much more? I guess I've just found my niche.
Also nice: teenaged boys who have been raised right will help their librarian clean up. Thanks, guys.