Just applied for graduation...

Let's kick this pig.

i am ugly today

I don't want to write my capstone paper. I don't want to get my Arizona driver's license so that I can apply to take my NCLEX. I don't want to graduate.

I want to pout. I want to cry. I want to eat cupcakes. I want to adopt a puppy that I really shouldn't. I want to run away.

I am ugly ugly ugly ugly today. But they tell me that all of this is important, so I have to do it.

P.S. I want to pick lots of fights today. And I want a keyboard because I really want to play piano.

meet the suegros

Okay, so I'm not their nuera (yet). And I've already met them. But Saturday will mark the first time I'm flying out to stay with them. And I'm nervous.

I feel like Ben Stiller in "Meet the Parents", like I'll always be living in the shadow of Owen Wilson. I'm worried that I'll come off as if I'm aloof, rude, thoughtless. I feel like I need to live up to some prior version of someone else.

And not to take the blame from myself (because my reactions are ultimately my responsibility), but most of it is cultural and the rest of it is situational.

Cultural: Any time something happens that suggests that he has ever even smiled at someone else, I turn into some caricature of a woman in a novela and I'm all like, "Noooo, me mataaaaaaaas". And I panic and I cry and I react in a completely irrational manner. Oops. Sorry.

Situational: On the other hand, I've dated people where the above things wouldn't even phase me. Oh, you're still in love with your ex? Okay. You think we should take a step back and see other people? Cool. What I'm trying to say is I'm serious about this, in a way that I don't quite understand.

At the end of the day, the people who love me the most know me the best. And if they can love me when I'm cranky and stressed out and out of line, I can be on my best behavior for a week and charm the pants off these folks (not literally...keep your clothes on).

P.S. Thing I'm most excited about: Potentially going on a White House tour. Odds of me seeing Bo Obama? Unlikely, but I'll still keep hoping. First runner up: Tea at the National Cathedral. Second runner up: "Little Shop of Horrors" at Ford's Theatre.

I cried last night about something that is too serious and too frivolous.

I cried when I left your apartment. You kissed me gently, the way you kiss me when you don't know what to say and you want to make me feel better. You kissed me awkwardly, admitting that you didn't know what to do to make me feel better. I cried while I was driving home. I cried when I walked into my apartment and realized that my favorite sheets were still in the washing machine. I cried when I pulled out an old set of floral sheets and threw them over my mattress.

I washed my face and cried. I turned out the light and rushed to my bed, because I'm still afraid of the dark and the monster under the bed. I made sure that my toes weren't hanging out from under the covers and I curled up next to Vegas, who had already settled into her normal donut shape in the very center of my bed. And I cried myself to sleep, because I'm not even sure what I could do to make myself feel better.

I really want to be a good girl who makes her own food and doesn't go out to eat. But I happen to spend a lot of days doing 12-hour clinicals at the hospital. And that leaves me all alone with my friend the crockpot. And she makes everything look gray and mushy. Yuck.

missing...

This photo, courtesy of not martha, made me start missing France...

...which made me miss all this:

I could deal with going on a vacation that sounds exactly like this right about now...

it's finally happened

K: "We're going to sleep in this weekend."

R: "No way. We're going to the gym."

Oh, rats...

The Wonder Dog, although expensive, is most likely going to live. There's something both oddly satisfying and frustrating about the vet telling you how healthy your dog looks.

I. Miss. Charles. de. Gaulle. And the noise that SNCF trains make. Take me back now. That whole "graduation" thing sounds lame, anyway.

Russell and I are making chicken & waffles tonight. And watching Modern Family. Sounds like a pretty successful evening to me.

my new jam

one sick puppy

Please send out some good thoughts for Vegas the Wonder Dog, who is feeling seriously under the weather and has to go visit the vet tomorrow.

I mean, really, how could you resist a face like this?

In other news, Russell and I have decided to explore all that the world of thriftiness has to offer. That means we're bidding farewell to sweet potato fries and burgers at Fez and welcoming PB&J and baked potatoes for dinner. Goodbye, movies and sodas and popcorn and candy (I'm not really missing the popcorn, due to an unfortunate case of food poisoning combined with a huge bag of kettle corn). Hello, free movies under the stars at Biltmore Fashion Park.

I think that in a couple months, we'll look back and realize that doing things on the cheap will have led to us being much more interesting people. At least that's what I'm hoping :)

I've got the -itis

Senioritis. And I've got it bad.

All I want to do is go home and listen to some Willie Nelson and drive around too fast in my old Jeep and take naps outside.

And it's not that I don't appreciate my Civic. It's always been good to me. But it just doesn't feel...cool. And it has killer airbags.

In my latest bout with senioritis, I've been watching a lot of the Olympics. After the closing ceremonies last night, I was lucky enough to catch The Marriage Ref, which made me nearly laugh myself to death in my post-studying stupor.

Silly? Definitely. Did I almost pee my pants after the dog got stuffed and it was even creepier looking than before? Definitely.