Whoops

It is 3:06 in the morning, central standard time. I have not slept since last night when I managed to squeek in a few hours of shut eye between being shit-faced drunk with my bosses and faxing, messengering, and answering phones for my bosses. I am beyond tired right now. All I want to do is sleep. For a solid 8 hours, maybe even 10. I haven't gotten 8 hours of sleep (in a row) since last Thursday night (I think, although, I can't really remember that far back. Apparently drinking your birth weight in vodka and cranberry kills all of your short term memory). The reason I am still awake is that in 4 hours I'm boarding a plane for sweet, sweet Maryland. Land of crabcakes, football, hot cousins, people I still refer to as sophomores even though they're graduating from college this year, my family, a vast majority of my friends, 7/8ths of my wardrobe including a pair of boots I've wanted to wear at least three times since I've been in Chicago, Christmas, relaxation, uhhhh, other stuff too, I guess (did I mention that I am drunk right now? this is my first -- of what I'm sure will be many-- drunk blog, eat it up. yum).

Anyway, I'm trying to keep myself awake, except that my godmother and her bf are asleep like normal people so I can't play the music or watch the television I'm left with the internet, which should be fine except for the fact that I spend all day every day on the internet, and I think I've kind of run out of things to look at.

The upside is that my cab is coming at 5, it is now 3:14 and I still have to change my clothes (I decided against wearing my slutty going out clothes on the plane, much to all of the other passengers' chagrin I'm sure) so, I really only have like an hour of this inanity left. In fact, I could push up my cab to 4:30 so I'll have an extra 30 minutes of play time in the airport. Play time meaning that I can sleep there because it'll be someone else's job to make sure I'm awake in time to catch the plane.

Other fun things about my travels in the coming hours: I'm using my brand new uber-WASPy Vera Bradley duffle for the first time. I feel like it should come with some tennis whites and trust fund, but sadly it does not. It does have a handy side pocket for things like my wallet and cell phone.

I will be wearing Navy Blue, and black, and brown in my traveling ensemble. Wait, wait, let me explain: I have this amazing hoodie from the Gap that's extra long with a 2-way zipper and is just the best thing ever, so I want to wear it. Then, because it's going to be forty-effin-six degrees the entire time I'm home I decided against bringing my winter coat, opting instead for one of my other favorite pieces of clothing, my navy blue Gap down vest. I wear it as much as humanly possible. It may have been the best thing that came out of visiting Courtney the week before I moved to Chicago (kidding, the best thing about that weekend was Daniel Vosavic, obvi). And, my favorite shoes to travel in for a myriad of reasons, boiling down to -- they're comfortable and are easy to get on and off for those pesky check in things are my black chucks. So there you have it. The fashionable women of yore are turning over in their graves at the thought of such an atrosity, but its 5 am and I regret not putting more thought into making sure that my 3 most favorite pieces of clothing all matched each other.

Also, I still don't really know what's gonna happen when I land in Maryland. I mean, I know I'll be there but beyond that I'm not sure what the plan is. Right now I'm taking the MARC train into DC but who knows at this point. Maybe I'll just spend Christmas at BWI. Its a nice airport, small, but with a fair number of Hudson News Stands and coffee marts.

Does anyone want to hang out with me on Boxing Day? It is the only day in the entire week after Christmas that I have nothing planned. Which means I should spend it packing and bonding with the siblings I now only see three to four times a year, but instead I'll probably sleep until 3 and then watch West Wing on the couch until someone puts some food in front of me.

I just had to save this post to Microsoft word because I'm having issues with my wireless connection, and I know somewhere in the far-away bit of my mind that this blog is probably the best thing I have ever written and if it gets deleted because of some trick of the internet gods' I will be very, very sad.

All I want for Christmas is to not have to climb the 400 stairs at the Woodley Park Zoo- Adams Morgan metro stop on New Years. There is only one person who can make this happen. Her name rhymes with Yourtney Cates.

Hahaha, the alarm I set back at 8:30 when I thought I was going to be drinking the entire night just went off. Yeah, I was back in my house by 12:30. How did I screw this up? I was supposed to have a crazy effin' night of partying. Oh yeah, I know how...uhh, my bffaeae skipped out to go to bed because she has "work" tomorrow (by which of course I mean today) and there were no suitable men at any of the bars we went to this evening and the boy that I am blindly chasing decided he was going to home after a 15 hour work day. Which is fine, I guess. However, someone should make it known to boys that it is much, much harder for girls to be cute and flirty and fun if you go home at midnight. Come on now.

Silver lining? I spent no money tonight. Not a dime and I am drunk (I may have mentioned that). That is a sucessful evening.

Okay, we've passed the 3:30 mark which means its time to change, call the cab company, straighten up my room and figure out where I put my purse when i walked in a few hours ago.

Thanks for coming on this magical holiday journey with me.

Happy Holidays.

What did I do with those ruby slippers?

I want to go home. To Maryland. I want to sleep on my uncomfortable twin bed in my closet-sized bedroom. I want wear all my clothes from High School that I just can't bear to throw away. I want to have nothing to do. I want to make my friends come pick me up like I did for them back in High School. I want to wake up to notes written by my Mom on the backs of envelopes in red felt-tip pen reminding us to empty the dishwasher and feed the cats. I want to spend absurd amounts of time on the couch watching movies with Buffy asleep on my stomach. I want to fall asleep reading The Wolves of Willoughby Chase and all my other favorite books from childhood. I want to be close to everyone, an hour away close. I want to go to the Met, to Velvet Lounge, Market Street Cafe. I want to fight with my siblings. In person. I want to debate going back to my high school and then decide I'm not that much of a dork. I want to debate going to Dee's then decide its not worth the muscle strain from all the fake-smiling. I want to use dial up internet.

Okay, not so much that last one. But, I'm getting that homesick feeling I get when I know I'm about to go home. I really do like Chicago and there is some fun stuff coming up in the next week and a half (Circus class! Office Christmas Party! Improv show! Bears Game!) and I do have other stuff going on to pass the time (full time office work! The quest for the perfect pair of New Year's shoes!) but it doesn't matter. Even though I know that after 48 hours in Maryland I'm going to want to strangle everyone in my family and wish that I was anywhere BUT home, I still wish I was home now.

As I've gotten older its gotten harder and harder to plan going home and its started to feel less like a vacation and more like a contest to see how many people I can manage to see in the space of 7 days. I keep moving things around, making plans, canceling plans, telling my mom she's coming to pick me up at BWI, deciding that it would be better to just take the MARC train, mentally packing my carry on, hoping that my bag is small enough to carry on, trying to figure out how I'm getting all my presents home, attempting to plan a party with my brother, having an internal moral dilema about drinking with my brother and all of his underage friends...

I'm weary. I just want to go home.

Someone out there is a dream-reader

I'm a little behind, I know, but I just discovered that George Clooney and John Krasinski are doing a movie together. Buh! My two lobsters sharing a movie screen! The only thing that could make this movie any more dream-ier is if they cast Michael Vartan in it too. If that happened...I just...like...my mind just exploded thinking about the sheer hotness that would radiate. I seriously think that if they put that trio together the sun would just give up. The sun would be like, "You got Clooney, Jim and Michael Vartan? Eff that, I'm out!" The only thing left to do is put a hit out on Renee Zell-sucks-at-life and drug the casting director so he'll hire me in her place.

Other things that need to be discussed (while I have your attention), are my on-going issues with Studio 60. I really (really) want to like this show but I really (really) think they need to 86 Harriet. Stat. As someone who loves nothing more than a boy shoving her up against a wall sticking his tongue down her throat, particularly at inopportune/suprising moments (ie backstage), the fact that Harriet could not pull it together on National-frickin'-live television shows how useless she really is. I mean, come on! I get that we have to show the imbeciles still watching this show (Oh yeah, ps, Thanks Aaron Sorkin for writing as though the people who really want your show to succeed (so are still watching it) are retar-tars. We really appreciate it!) that Harriet is shocked (shocked! I tell you) that her ex-boyfriend who is seething with jealousy would do such a crazy thing as kiss her...but she's a professional and she's allegedly got some comedic/improvisational background and so should be quite good at not being a stupid, flighty girl. Let's be real here.

Though, in an effort of full disclosure, I did get a little misty eyed at the whole New Orleans musicians thing. You can't do a rendition of "O Holy Night", particularly a jazz one, with such kitchy-sad story line, that isn't going to make me just a wee bit weepy. You win that one Sorkin, and the one where Josh (rather creepily) tells Jordan that he is "coming after" her and then tells her to chew her sandwich, just because, a mouth full of food is kind of always funny. But thats it! No more playing on the fact that I love sad Christmas Carols and secretly want a boy to tell me to get ready to fall in love with him.

So now I'm going to spend the rest of the day pretending that instead of Josh it was Jim-from-the-Office (much easier to pronouce than his real name) giving that speech and the girl with the sandwich wasn't so much Jordan as it was me. Guh. He is so my lobster.

Of course...

This might be the most unflattering picture of all time. I'm tall and gorgeous. Don't these quiz people know that?

Smart, sexy, and sassy, both the press and other staffers know not to mess with Claudia Jean. A natural at her job, the press secretary is sensitive toward women's issues and stands up for 'the Sisterhood.' Her wit and one-liners along with her lip synching ability are known across the land.


:: Which West Wing character are you? ::