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Life has been busy of late. Busy in most every aspect, too, not just the usual work-busy. Not that work has slowed down much. I’m still putting in a full 40 hours a week in the Sociology department, another 10 or so per week for Coach House, and I’ve been working quite a bit on a website that’s due in the next few days (you might get details after it’s done).

But, as most-all of you are aware, my life has been busy in that emotional, relationship-type area that I don’t spend a lot of time talking about here. And frankly, I don’t think I’ll start talking about my relationship problems much. I didn’t start this blog years ago to serve as a receptacle in which to pour out my heart. I started it to entertain myself, and possibly others in the process. And I don’t find pain entertaining. Sooo… those of you interested in heartache and remorse and all the blacker corners of the emotional spectrum may visit Megan’s weblog and read as much as (and possibly more than) you could ever want. She, unlike I, ~did~ start her weblog to write from the heart. I’ve put a lot of thought into what my first post after things turned sour would be (which is a good part of why I haven’t updated in so long), and you know what? I don’t want it to be about all that stuff.

So! As I said, I’ve been busy. That may change slightly in short order, however. See… I’ve been putting in a measly ten hours a week or so at Coach House these last couple of months, and most of those hours have come on the weekends. Well, I was looking at my calendar for the month of July, and guess what? I need four of the five weekends off. And I’d kinda like to have the fifth one off, too, since that’s the 4th of July weekend and all. And August is no better. I’m going to want the first weekend and the two following weeks off, and then school starts, so who knows what will happen then? Je ne sais pas, certainement. So it looks like I get to have a talk to my boss this evening when I go into work. And I feel bad about it, because he’s already in a fix. Someone else, who works far more hours than I, is leaving on the 1st of July. That is definitely not a kosher pickle.

That picture up top, by the way, was taken by Debbie a few days ago while she was playing with the sepia filter on her camera. I liked it, so I made her give it to me. I’ve decided sepia makes me look smarter.

My baby brother turned 18 on the 24th. I nearly dropped my cake when Rich mentioned that Willie was old enough to vote in the upcoming presidential elections. My little brother, with the power of a vote in his eager little hands. I hid my concerns behind another piece of cake and more ice cream than I would have thought it possible for my stomach to contain. And then we ordered Chinese.

On a related note, I’m back up to around 180 - 185 pounds again. *g* I’m trying to combat this by playing racquetball three or four times a week. Between Lorenzo, Debbie and Sammie (the better half of my roommate duo SamSquared, comprised of Sam and Sammie. Assuming they ever move in), I hope to find a partner often enough to make this goal a reality. My body seems to hold up to consecutive racquetball days pretty well, so perhaps if Coach House become just a blip on the résumé, I can play five days a week or more. And once I’m comfortable with racquetball, maybe I can convince myself to start jogging. It’s all a matter of self-esteem, with me. I don’t jog because I don’t like the idea of my body jiggling down the pavement in full view of God and a bunch of people who, unlike God, haven’t seen me nekkid.

Enjoy your days.

I call this masterpiece “Don’t Touch My Sammich”. It has been brought to you by the letter L, a hungry Robbie and Adobe Photoshop 7. I think I need to order Jimmy Johns, cause I can’t seem to find anyone to bring me food. :(

Why the hell have I been talking about food so much? Is this the ‘interesting stuff’ that I found too risqué to talk about? Lordy, I hope not.

In non-food-related news, I saw a Cyride bus almost hit a deer today. In the bus driver’s defense, there is not a deer crossing sign posted anywhere between Kildee and Bessey Halls. :) That poor deer is probably still wandering the sidewalks somewhere, blending in with the hundreds of freshmen on campus for orientation with the same in-the-headlights look in their eyes.

Which reminds me of my other funny bus story that I meant to tell last week! I was riding the bus to campus last week, and the bus driver took a sudden detour into Cyride’s parking lot. I’m thinking, “Great. Bus trouble. We’re all going to have to transfer.” I was wrong. The bus driver parks the bus in the middle of the parking lot, jumps out, runs to his van, grabs his sunglasses, gets back in and takes off without saying a word to the passengers. That kept me smiling all morning.

Dammit, it’s probably too late to order Jimmy Johns now. I’m going to go find something nasty-yet-edible in the vending machine. I saw they’re out of my bagels AND my veggie burgers today. *mutter*

Well, despite the danger of this becoming one of the notorious “I had a cheese sandwich” blogs, it’s time for your (first ever, probably last ever) weekly What I Ate Update!

Friday: Hmm. The problem with this plan of mine, is I don’t have that good of a memory. In fact, I have no real recollection of Friday whatsoever, let alone a list of things I put in my mouth, be they food-related or no. For the sake of keeping this little game going, we’ll say I had broiled salmon with a side of wild rice for lunch (gotta watch my weight, you know) and three pounds of German chocolate cake for dinner (since I ate so damn healthy for lunch).

Saturday: Ooh, I have memories from Saturday! For lunch, Megan, Justin and I got carryout from Hickory Park, because I found out you can Order It Online, which instantly makes any sort of foodstuff twice as appealing to me. I didn’t have to talk to ~people~. I could change my order seven ~times~. I could think in tildes and no one would ~mind~. I had a bacon and cheese hickory burger. Megan had a Philadelphia cheese steak sandwich. Justin had a giant chicken salad with honey mustard dressing. All was right with the world. Saturday evening, Debbie and I ate sushi while Justin and Megan eyed us with mild disgust. *grin*

Sunday: Lunch occurred around 2pm and consisted of a frozen pizza (well, okay, it was a cooked pizza by the time we ate it, but it was frozen for quite a while before that. I’m pretty sure it was still registered to vote in the freezer district) split three ways. For dinner, Megan made me steak, potato thingies (that’s the non-technical term for what I think might have been Potatoes O’Brien), and a yummy salad with a glass of wine.

Monday: Lunch consisted of leftover sushi, which made my stomach much more queasy before I ate it than after. Old sushi in concept is scary. In practice, a couple of days sitting on top of my tortillas didn’t seem to do the feesh any harm. Dinner was leftover-steak pitas and salad, which sat surprisingly well in my stomach during the racquetball game with Sammie an hour later. At least, I’m pretty sure my shoddy skillz had much more to do with the week I took off playing than the chewy bread, reheated cow and raw fishies duking it out in my lower intestine.

Tuesday: Yeah, well, Tuesdays will never be known as a good food day for me. I work somewhere between 13 and 14 hours on Tuesdays, which doesn’t leave a lot of time or motivation for gourmet meals. Lunch came in the form of a blueberry bagel, ~with~ cream cheese because it was lunch and not breakfast. *g* Dinner ended up being a TV dinner consisting of things the Banquet corporation was pretending were chicken strips, french fries and a brownie.

And today, I think lunch is pizza. It was ~supposed~ to be pizza with a bunch of the Soc peoples my age, but I heard a nasty rumor that most of them have chickened out, making it pizza with a secretary older than my mom, an undergrad I’ve never met, and possibly a professor. Nick, you owe me. You’re not sick, and we both know it. Hangovers do not count. That’ll teach you to follow Debbie’s lead. *grin* Get out of whatever bed you’re in and get your butt to campus.

So I was hungry, it being lunchtime and all, and I headed up to the vending machine to get myself a bagel. Yes, our vending machine has bagels. Calm yourself. Sliced bagels, even, which I guess trumps the whole ’sliced bread’ thing quite nicely regardless of what you think of our alternative vending lifestyle.

Anyways, I get to the vending machine, and they’re all out of bagels. Well, they had raisin bagels, but for whatever reason those don’t count in my mind. So we’ll say they were out. Again. I had this exact same problem yesterday.

But I’m hungry. I’m not leaving the vending machine empty handed. So I give up and buy myself a nice veggie burger instead. Yeah, we got veggie burgers in our vending machines, too. Now if you don’t sit down and be quiet, I’m going to turn this story around, I swear.

When did this happen? When did I become the sort of person that, first of all, consumes bagels (without the cream cheese… that stuff goes straight to your hips you know) as a well-rounded meal, and second of all, considers veggie burgers an acceptable substitute? Sure, Megan and I had veggie burgers every once in a while when we were living together, but I always thought I was just humoring her. I guess the joke is on me, no? The cow I didn’t eat is spinning in the grave it didn’t need right now. And I’m pretty sure Eric might disown me. He’s a meat-and-potatoes sorta guy who sees the potato part as superfluous. Or at least, he used to be. I dunno if his stomach still accepts carcasses (dead carcasses, at that) as readily.

Yes, I know, long time no speak. The funny part is, I do have stuff I could be writing about. I just don’t think that I should. *g* My life has been fun (even funny, at times) and interesting of late, but I don’t know how much of that I should share. I have two conflicting voices in my head: the one that says, “you don’t want to offend people, so less is more”, and the one that says, “this is your weblog and your life, so go for it”. Well, three voices if you count the one that tells me to burn things.

Oh, and I’m also in the mood for a Chinese-symbol tatoo. I decided that this morning. *g* I was thinking of getting either , which is said to mean ‘wise’ (but probably means ‘tuna’), or which is said to mean ‘root’ (but probably means ‘I dropped my kitten in sauerkraut’). ‘Wise’ would probably be pertinent (if not accurate) longer than my current fascination with the word ‘root’, but there are advantages to getting ‘root’ tattooed. Specifically, the fact that it looks an awful lot like the Atari symbol, and could probably be modified to become one. *grin* Under my current mental plan, I would get the tattoo placed in the center of my current tattoo, thus taking up no more physical real estate than I am currently. I should probably note that the choices of ‘wise’ and ‘root’ come from countless three minutes flipping through online Chinese flash cards. :) As such, I’d be up for more applicable suggestions. Please note that ‘tattoos are stupid’ and that ilk are opinions, not suggestions, and I’ve already got opinions of my own on this matter, so you can feel free to keep yours. *grin*

Danielle is supposed to be visiting the wondrous village of Ames this afternoon, so I’ll probably be feasting at Hickory Park this evening. I wish I got to see her for more than the hour or two mastication requires, but hey. I’ll take what I can get.

And now I’m bored, so I’m going to go surf the net in search of shiny objects.