I tend to daydream about being a writer, but I don’t do much actual writing, do I?  And the things I daydream about aren’t much of a start, either – interviews with Oprah, for instance (her interviewing me, of course, for being a writer – although we never talk about what I’ve written, we sort of skirt that issue and tackle the bigger things in life, like where I’m storing my multiple Oscars), or acceptance speeches for things I have no hope of ever entering, let alone winning.  Perhaps MC was on to something when he called me the “epitome of lazy” (and that was for asking CK to come to my locker with me, which I pointed out was not laziness at all but rather fear of doing anything by oneself, a bad habit of a totally different sort) – I would like to skip past the actual work and go straight for the rewards.  Yet I am unwilling to let go of these little fantasies – sure as I am that someday, a book will appear with my name on the cover (considering the much-discussed overuse of my particular name, this part could very well happen without me doing any work), and I will have written it (far less likely), and will then have a chance to use my stored-up mental conversations (note: the word “mental” has several uses here) with Oprah, Tina Fey, Steve Martin, and William Goldman…my nerdical fantasy life does not stop there, oh no: I have gone so far as to dream up dedications for my nonexistent books.  Yes, what you have all been fearing is true…I am obsessed with book dedications.  The more obtuse and cryptic, the better.

In that spirit, I would like to dedicate this post to Becca, the booster of my ego.

That doesn’t mean the rest of you should stop reading.  Assuming there is a “rest of you” to begin with, and that none of that “rest” gave up in the jumble of madness above.

On to reality, or today’s version of it.  (Sidenote: I have recently come into contact with a woman whose name is, and I’m not kidding, Reality.  She’s a bit spacy – shall we say, out of touch with herself?)  You will notice that I am “Currently Reading” book 6 of the HP series.  This is a lie.  I was reading it – from about 5 pm Sunday until 3 am Monday, when I finished it, feeling rather like the boys after Star Wars III…what am I supposed to do with my life now?  Wait for two years for the last installment, I suppose.  I will not talk about it with people who haven’t read it, but I’m dying to talk about it anyway, which makes it imperative that CK call me at once.  I’m trying to use my powers of telepathy to get her to do so right now, but to no avail.  No bother, as I am, clearly, at work and couldn’t answer the phone unless she dialed my 1-800 number (I have my own extension from the school’s 1-800 number, isn’t that nifty?  I would consider myself important had it not become clear to me that this extension is never going to be used).

Where was I?  Oh yes, work.  Good thing, too, for I have much to report and eight hours a day to do it (the term “work ethic” is slowly fading from my inner dictionary).  I have had two monstrously busy sort of weekends.  I’ll begin the Friday before last, with a surprise birthday for Sabrina held in her friend Laura’s garage.  There were subs and cupcakes, cheetos and champagne, s’mores and poison ivy.  I dare you to think of a classier Friday evening.  Next day came a trip to the cities for bridesmaiding.  Three of us (matron of honor Michelle, Angela’s brother’s fiance Crystal and I) tried on the dresses and they are beautiful.  The fact that mine has to be fitted and everything before I leave for London in January makes me more than a little nervous, but that worrisome thought was shoved violently out of my mind as the conversation turned to wedding night lingerie and my mother found it necessary to add to the conversation.  Shudder.

Saturday night I bummed around Carly’s house and came up with the conclusion that if ever I meet and speak to Kirsten Dunst, I will ask her this: “Fifteen and Pregnant – why?”  Sunday was another big day, as Sabrina, Heather, Tony, CK and I spent the evening at Valleyfair.  It was pretty great, I even went on Steel Venom and wasn’t terrified the second time.  As much.  Sort of.

The days I worked, Monday through Wednesday, I will skip because frankly, my dear, I can’t remember them.  Thursday Heather and I took off of work but didn’t leave for Sonshine until around 3:30, then met up with the Kruk boys before taking in Skillet (really enjoyed the concert this year), Audio A (same, although not the part where Heather kinda sorta passed out from dehydration), and Newsboys (always a good show – a “candlelight service” this year because the lights broke down and the stage was instead lit by floodlights) and coming home to sleep in the blissfully conditioned air (the apartment’s had been malfunctioning for a week, and I kept sleeping on the floor rather than crawling up into my loft).

Friday was better:  “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” before the concert, where we say John Reuben (excellent), Toby Mac (possibly the best show of the weekend), Ben Glenn (a speaker/artist who blew me away), Relient K (who are now on MTV and being called an “emerging artist” when I’ve been a fan since I was what, seventeen?  Ugh), and Switchfoot.  RK and Switchfoot packed the place – I was in probably the sixth row for an hour or so before Relient K, and it got insane and grossly sweaty and with unknown superhero strength I shoved my way out…just before they began performing.  Figures.   Two years ago I was in the front row and everyone was friendly and it was awesome.  This year, I emerged from the pack with footprints on my legs (I was only slightly trampled once).  All in all, not the best RK concert I’ve seen in three years, but this is probably because I’m quite bitter at them for a) possibly turning mainstream, and b) getting to meet Jay Leno last Monday.  Switchfoot gave a good concert, though we were far back; they sang every song on “The Beautiful Letdown” and only one new one, so not as interesting as it could have been.

Saturday, met up with Sabrina in time for the Hawk Nelson concert.  Who knew she was destined to be best friends with the lead singer?  They both quote Will Ferrell…they’re both diabetic…a match made in heaven!  We also discovered the diabetic pick up line of the century:  “Will you sign my meter?” which he happily did as I snapped pictures of the Diabetic Duo.  Then met up with Keely and family – it was a bit odd to see them in Willmar, but excellent nonetheless.  I had a great time chattering with them before Casting Crowns (not Counting Crows), who were really moving.  I left after that – tired and wanted to get back to my apartment before midnight.

What happened on Sunday?  Oh, what didn’t happen on Sunday…I went to “Wedding Crashers” with Sabrina and Chris (he crashed my Sabrina date, not the other way around), and it was amazing, and then bought the book and some coffee, both of which were free thanks to my boss.  And this is how I thank her.  Hmm.  So, last night I travelled through a year of Hogwarts and came to work on four hours sleep.  Now I’m very tired, I need coffee and a nap, and would you look at that — it’s time to go.  Ask and you shall receive.


One response

  1. I think what you need is a transcriber.  Someone who will just follow you around and write down what you say.  Cuz it’s usually entertaining and could be in a book…and then that way you really don’t have to do any work, but you’re still the author of it.

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