do you believe in planets?

"honor his policies"--WHAT??

I will not apologize for calling a spade a spade.

This girl--bless her sheltered, spoiled, thin-lipped soul--is a MORON.

I will not apologize.

DO/DO NOT WANT

It threatens to warm up; I threaten to resume paying attention to my appearance after many long months of neglect. Don't tempt me, weather gods! My bank-account can't compete wiff my deezyres!

DO WANT: black sequined skirt. miniskirt. stretchy. dunno, just do.
DO NOT WANT: sailor-dress. ever.

DO WANT: endless supply of tights and leggings, of various textures and colors, but the steadiest supply of black opaque tights on one hand, and neutral fishnets on the other.
DO NOT WANT: open-toed boots. for eff's sake. makes even LESS sense than shorts and tights.

DO WANT: more flannel.
DO NOT WANT: to continue loving lace. what is up with that? can't. stop.

DO WANT: Chanel handbag.
DO NOT WANT: to pay for it.

DO WANT: both the trend of a) long tunic-length tops, AND b) that of true-waist-cinching to continue, although they are separate from each other and not compatible.
DO NOT WANT: a) the trend of tunic-length "makes me look preggers" tops, plus the trend of b) butterfly beltbuckles on gigantic belts cinching at the waist--to continue.

DO WANT: black riding-style boots. with a little heel, though. and some brown slouchy ones. could also use a red pair. electric blue? maybe. also want some t-strap heels. and some black mary janes. more funnel-heels. non-patent everything, please.
DO NOT WANT: any of the shoes in my closet. Except my chacos. I'll never give those ugly-ass things up.

two promises; two predictions

I PROMISE...

...that Kate Bosworth is a fucking idiot. I not only promise, I swear it. And you can ask Conan.*

I FURTHER PROMISE...

...never to that I will allow you to kill me if I ever wear tights under shorts. And I DOUBLE promise not to wear tights under shorts CAPPED OFF WITH SANDALS OR OPEN-TOED FOOTWEAR OF ANY KIND. This includes strappy anything and kitten-heeled what-have-you.**

~~Intermission~~

I PREDICT...

...that I will STILL forget to purchase adhesive bandages tomorrow, despite the fact that I gouged myself open tonight and--get this--fixed a cotton-round to my finger with dental floss to stop myself from bleeding all over my belongings as I continued to unpack.

I FURTHER PREDICT...

...that my exercise schedule that was entirely effed by my vacation this week will continue to be effed this weekend and next week, as a) I have weekend guests from P-land, and b) classes begin anew on Monday.

cnn.com terror levels: high, higher, highest

Really rather terrifying:

Absolutely terrifying:

WHIMPERING IN THE CORNER TERRIFYING:

another day, another serving up of WTF?!?!?!

Weeaaaal, yeah, first there was this. That big hole where the street should be? That's less than a block from where I sit. If you watch the video, that be my corner and shit. (On a sidenote, I love the part where the reporter is all like, "No one is sure exactly why the water main, which is between 80-100 years old, broke..." Hmm. Maybe because IT'S ONE HUNDRED YEARS FREAKING OLD).

Then there's Heath Ledger.

Then there's Billy Poole.

At least there's...

the 'POVA! Kicking the crap out of Justine Henin, the world number one, in straight sets! 6-4 6-0! Hope Justine likes bagels.

"So, Crazy Tennis Fan Ebeff," you ask. " If MaSha wins the Australian Open, will that make up for recent, deeply saddening events in Green Bay, WI? Events that will never, ever be discussed on this blog so help Ebeff God?"

My response: "Uh, Maria would have to win the entire Grand Slam (psst! that means all four majors in one year!) for the next decade to make up for that, and in the process would have to marry her highschool sweetheart (tough, considering MaSha was homeschooled/tutored), grow some adorable stubble, and develop some serious matchpoint pointy fingers. Then she would have to retire to a farm in Mississippi."

Just sayin'.

it is not quite 8 AM, and already several strange things have happened to or near me...

1. Some dude is unwinding and balling his girlfriend's skeins (sp?) of yarn for her while she knits. I can't decide whether a) I want to steal him away from her, or b) he's the last pansy-ass on earth I'd let lay a whipped-as-hell paw on me.

2. In a relatively empty cafe, someone just chose to sit directly--like, I CAN FEEL HER BREATHING DIRECTLY--next to me. Yes, there's a decent chance she is reading this right now.

3. Some 50-odd year-old gentleman at the front of the cafe who is sitting with a group of about eight people (too large a group for the size of the cafe, really) just turned around a full 180 degrees, pointed to me, and exclaimed loudly, "THAT girl, sitting back there." I have never seen him before in my life. Baffled much?

Apparently, the first day of the term has offered up a generous portion of "WHAT THE FUCK" for breakfast. ONLY ITEM ON THE MENU BITCHES

things I'll miss when I go.

And so it begins. Now that I've ceased freaking out--I'm all freak and all out--and consider my maRble-sack entirely empty, I can admit to being a...how'd that go?...oh yeah, a "sloshing sack of emotions" for the time being. Before I turn my feelings off again, allow me to be sentimental for the sake of a couple lists:

I call this one "For All the Girls I've Loved Before." In no particular order:

Joy -- though she lives in Seattle, she's my sea star.
Kirsten -- though she's tirelessly critical of my hair, she's so much like me it's weeeiiiird.
Tara -- though I've hardly seen her all summer, she loves hard.
Jenny -- though I've hardly seen her at all sober, she entertains.
Mary -- though she often gets me wrong, she laughs with me like no one laughs with me.
Lisa -- though she's widely misunderstood, she lets it go.
Taya -- though she seems intimidating, she doesn't mean it.

You'll notice that's a short list. I don't know too many women. Or maybe I just don't like too many women. Whatevs.

I call this next one "Just Call Me Angel of the Morning." Breakfast is my favorite meal, after all:

Genie's--the new coffee bar is rad.
Paradox--vegans are lame, but this place has sentimental value.
Cup & Saucer--cranky staff!
Juniors--one block away.
Zell's--just plain rad.
Tiny's--around the corner: coffee that your spoon stands up in, terrible, terribly loud music, and overpriced sandwiches. Why do I love thee? Repeat question mark.

That's all for now.

update; LOLcat

Updates first, then you get a treat for good behavior:

1) Sharapova made her first French Open Semi! Woo-hoo! And then had her ass handed to her in said Semi. Boo-hoo! Oh well, I was pleased with her overall showing, though I wish she had shown UP for her match against the delightfully pigeon-toed babyfat queen who is young Serb Ana Ivanovic.

2) Jankovic and Henin up next. Oh please take her down, Jankovic! What fun would an all-Serbian final be? How BORED I am of Henin and her French Open "trifecta"! What fun would your first grand slam final be? What fun you are to watch during press conferences, what with your big smiles and your confusing forehead and mile-long nose and all! How proud would I be if I have predicted the winner of both the women's AND the men's tournament? WHAT DRAMA!

3) The ankle is sore, but much, much better--my panic has subsided. It's stiffer today after testing it by hitting a few balls last night (insert laugh-track here), but I believe whatever is wrong will lose and I will win through continued rest, anti-inflammatories, and ankle strengthening exercises.

4) I'm so tired of Iron and Wine I could vomit.

5) Grading papers on four hours of sleep is less than ideal, but I had to stay up late to sweat/writhe/whimper off the tummyache (still in denial that I'm lactose intolerant), then get up at 5 AM to watch the Sharapova-Ivanovic match. Being tired doesn't make the papers any harder to grade, really--I forget I'm exhausted until I stop working and come up for air...then...the peepers... droop...zzzz

zzzz
zzz

::snort::

Huh? What? Mom? Oh.

So anyway, grading papers on no sleep--yeah, not so bad considering today is...

6. MY LAST DAY OF TEACHING FOR THE NEXT YEAR AND A HALF! Cue party music! And... cue unemployment. No? Shit.

7. This cafe is full of crazies.

Okay, you've been updated. Here's your LOLcat:

LOL!

See, it worked!

shake out the sand, then put the panties back on. very good, ebeff.

A little break from the norm; something pleasant: finally got my photos from Short Sands up on Flickr.

Took Aaron there while he was visiting. Not mbimotmog Aaron, but this Aaron:

What else? Ten things:

1. It was fun.

2. We saw a gray whale, sea lions, cormorands (sp?), a bald eagle, pelicans, and the world's biggest, grossest slug.

3. We saw waterfalls and romped along the beach.

4. We picnicked out at the cape that affords the most amazing views ever and only costs an easy 2.5-mile hike.

5. The beach is surrounded by tall cliffs in a U-shaped cove popular among surfers for its even breaks.

6. I almost froze my feet off.

7. A rogue wave got us.

8. We had fish and chips at a pub in Cannon Beach after showing Aaron the Goonies rocks.

9. The waitress poured someone the wrong beer and gave it to me.

10. I will truly, truly miss the ocean.

my cat is having a terrible day.

She's skittish to begin with, but today worked her every nerve.

First, she's always traumatized when we have guests. She stares at the door the guest lives behind and growls. We have a guest.

Second, she doesn't deal well with J's early morning shifts. If he leaves before it's fully daylight (which he often does when he opens the cafe), she wanders around the apartment searching for him, howling, until I convince her to lay down and go back to sleep. (Yes, it's cute, but it's also obnoxious.) He worked early this morning.

Third, there was a pretty nasty car accident right under our balcony today. It involved two trucks, a van, and a telephone pole. It produced a great deal of noise. I thought something had exploded, at first. My cat had been on my lap. After digging every single claw deep into my thighs, she launched onto the floor, darted into the bedroom, and disappeared under the bed for half an hour.

Fourth, the first peal of thunder I've heard since fall just cracked over our heads, followed by several of its friends. Kitty disappeared under the futon.

Finally, kitty had bravely ventured back into the living room and was again curled up in my lap (greatly interfering with my ability to type cover letters for jobs I don't want).

Hail hitting the windows grabbed her attention. Hail coming down the chimney into the living room sent her galloping for the bedroom again.

Poor, poor kitty.

But that hailstorm? RAD. Pictures later.