First things first: I am not a cat person. I’m just not. I love dogs. I love an animal that you can roll on the floor with, rub their belly, and BOOM, you’re the greatest thing alive (at least in their eyes). I like things that come when they’re called because they WANT to spend every waking second with you. I like an animal that only thinks three things:

1. I love you so much I can barely stand it.

2. I’m hungry. But you’re so wonderful you probably already have a plan to deal with it.

3. My GOD, could I love you any MORE?? No!!!

Ok, so now you’re thinking, Geez woman, just get a boyfriend. But I think a dog is probably much more reliable anyway.

The POINT is, despite my general preference for dogs, my lease only allows cats (and grudgingly at that…), so in August my roommate Emma and I bought a kitten from a rescue shelter. We named her McKinley (don’t ask why, it’s an inside joke that you won’t think is funny), and totally fell in love with her.


Emma is also a dog person. In fact, we both have West Highland White Terriers back at our parents’ homes. So, in way of an experiment, we decided to raise dear McKinlers as a dog. As a result, we now have a clumsy cat who drinks from the toilet, snuggles under the covers, doesn’t bathe herself, and plays fetch. Mission accomplished.

Of course, the animal is still a cat with cat instincts and cat quirks. For example, McKinley needs to be given a bath now and then. However, she is not such a fan of water. The first time Emma and I tried washing her, I ended up with a hole in my arm courtesy of her dagger-like claw. We are slowly warming her up to the idea, though. She’s no longer afraid of the sink, and we can rub her down with a damp washcloth without too much of a fuss. Baby steps.


I have good news and bad news. The good news is that the wisdom teeth surgery went well–all four teeth went without a fight, feeling has returned to the lower half of my face, and so far no signs of a dry socket.

The bad news: I was way too exhausted post-op to write a post. As in, I don’t remember the drive home, or even really how I got to my parents’ couch pre-pass-out. So here we are, three days later. Consider the soreness in my jaw and the chipmunk cheeks enough of a punishment.


I take back everything I said about winter.

Today was a balmy fifty degrees, and I can hold no grudge against anyone. I drove with the windows DOWN. I didn’t wear my coat INSIDE. (I do this to get slightly overheated before going outside. That way, the bone-chilling cold feels merely refreshing. For about thirty seconds.) I wore a SKIRT sans TIGHTS. (A mistake, actually. I can’t remember the last time I shaved my legs.)


The point is, the feud is off. I’m spreading my lightly clad arms in love and acceptance. Provided winter remains at an agreeable temperature. Sounds fair, right?

Also, tomorrow is the dreaded surgery. My goal is to write a blog post whilst under the influence of anesthetic. We’ll see if I remember. I might get distracted by the pudding my wonderful friend Annie bought for me. Anything is possible in this crazy world where winter and I get along.

ALSO, turned in my capstone application today. My interview will either be next Tuesday or Thursday, so I only have a week to sweat whether or not I got the position I want. Here’s hoping!

I try not to bring you into my emotional innerworkings (trust me, you don’t want in) except in the cases of extreme annoyance, but right now the only thing I can think about is my impending application for a position on my magazine capstone.
I’m in college (did I tell you that?), and it’s my senior year, so naturally it’s time to take that class that will serve as a culmination of everything I’ve spent the last four years learning. At my school, it’s called Magazine Practicum, but basically all the seniors (mag and news/internet majors) join forces to create a magazine. In the fall it’s a lifestyle publication, but in the spring it’s newsier.

In order to give the staff as realistic a feel as possible, we have to apply for positions and be interviewed by media professionals in our area. Nerve-wracking if you tend to stutter when you’re nervous (guilty) or hate writing cover letters (no one should EVER put that much pressure on a single page).

I finished my cover letter this morning, so now all I have to do is package it up with my resume and a few clips into a lovely, professional-looking package. The whole shebang is due Thursday with interviews next week.

I’m shooting for executive producer of online, essentially the EIC of the online version of the publication. I think I would be really good at this; I’m a good manager, I have good ideas… I’m just worried that because I’ve held leadership positions in the past, they’ll want to spread the opportunities around and pass me up. Either way, though, it will be a fun experience. I love the professor, and most of the other kids seem cool. So anyway, think positive, professional, eloquent thoughts for me next Tuesday!

Also, face surgery, T-minus 1.5 days.

So besides shooting out ramblings in a blog no one reads, I also contribute to an online magazine called Too Shy To Stop. I decided to cross-promote myself. You can read my latest post about why we love trashy TV in a recession here. Thanks for reading!

In honor of my last first day of school, I’ve constructed this little list of folks you’re likely to stumble into (hopefully not literally) on your first day. Everyone ready to have their name mispronounced in role call? Ok! Pencils down and let’s review:

friendly1. The Girl Who is Determined to Make Friends: You’ll know her. She’s the one who talks to you like the two of you go way back, even if you literally just met and don’t even know her name. She speaks in broad generalities that–at least as implied by her tone–cannot be questioned. Example: You say, “I’ve heard this professor is kinda crazy!” She says, “A crazy teacher is so much better than a boring one, am I right???” You say, “Oh…”

slouching2. The Guy Who is Only There Because He Needs the Credit: You can spot this one by his posture alone. Generally you’ll only see him from the chest up (except when he schlumps into class just before or after the starting time) because his spine has devolved to a permanent slouch. You probably won’t hear him speak after he says “here” after attendance. (The hardcore GWIOTBHNTCs won’t even speak then; a simple tossing up of the hand is all you’ll get for reassurance that he is, in fact, not dead or made of wax.)

a3. The Girl Who is GOING TO GET AN A: This girl takes notes when the professor covers the syllabus. She’s not even sure what class she’s in; she signed up the second she saw the word “Honors” in the title. The teacher knows her on sight, and Girl will probably hang out after class to catch up on what he or she has been doing over break. On the upside, GWIGTGAA is great when you’re sleepy or just not up to contributing because she can answer EVERY SINGLE QUESTION. (Disclaimer: Sometimes I am this girl. But I try not to be obnoxious about it.)

images-14. Cocky Freshman in Upper Level Classes: Whether he’s determined to make friends or just so gosh darn excited to be away from high school and parents, you can spot these by their forced swagger and shallow attempts to chat you up. Be nice, they’re only babies after all. The only time you have the right to serve him a come-uppance is if he gets too clever for his own good. Or starts interrupting everyone because HE got an “A” in AP English, so HE KNOWS WHAT HE’S TALKING ABOUT.

That’s all for now; see you next class!