"My chance to say something seemed so brief, but it wasn't. Now I know I had plenty of time."

Kristen and I are headed to Minneapolis this weekend to celebrate my birthday. Better late than never, right? It's going to definitely be a girls' shopping weekend. Mostly, I'm looking for a dressier winter coat (and warmer, since my Fashion Bug cheap-o coat isn't very cold-resistant). I'm hoping to check out Burlington Coat Factory and find some good deals. Maybe something similar to this:



We're also going to ride the Light Rail to the Mall of America. Oh, the shops we'll find there. I haven't been there in years, so this will be so excellent. Here's a few stores for you be oh, so jealous about: Burberry (not that I'll be able to fit into anything from there *sigh*), LUSH Boutique in Macy's, Staccato (Hong Kong fashion shoes), Gucci at Norstrom's, etc.

Oh, and let's not forget the reason we were first attracted to this particular weekend in the Twin Cities: http://www.nocoastcraft.com/

And hopefully we'll get to see Jolene and meet her gorgeous daughter for the first time!

Thanksgiving and the La-La Song

Here's a mini video of Jersey singing at the table on Thanksgiving. Of course my brother is an idiot and started talking/swearing over it while I was filming. And that's my girly voice chastising him. Maybe now that I know how to use this feature on my digital camera and how to upload, I can try again another time! :)

Personal ad faux pas.

Hey, fellas. I know that it's hard to meet that special someone out there. Sometimes you just have to do the unthinkable, something your buddies would razz you about--putting up a personals ad. It's okay. Don't be ashamed. All's fair in the search for love, right?

I've looked at some of your ads today, guys, and I gotta say, you're screwed. And not the way you'd no doubt like. So, to help you win some lady love, here's some free pointers.

Don't use a picture of yourself with a sucker in your mouth for your profile pic.

Don't claim to be 31 when you're obviously closer to retirement age.

Don't use the phrase "Seeking a Fishing Buddy" as your attention grabber. 1) Ask the guy at the bait shop to be your fishing buddy. 2) There's no reason to capitalize 'fishing' or 'buddy.'

Don't quote the movie "Airplane" if you ever hope to get nookie.

Don't use your high school yearbook photo and/or family portrait as your profile pic.

Don't post your ad without using SpellCheck. Twice.

"There is nothing fake about me, except my leg." Self-explanatory.

Don't call yourself Scooter, Ger, or Sparky.

Don't weight 350 pounds and report that your ideal woman is slender. Idiot.

Don't wrestle for the NFW then say you're looking for someone who isn't a "psyco nut job."

Don't use an apostrophe for a plural noun. Come on. Just...don't be an idiot.

Hope that helps! If anything, it's made me feel better.

Conversations

In my dream last night, I had been recruited to help kill evil vampires--
Guy, after giving me a tour of the headquarters: So, that's everything. Any questions?
Me: Um, yeah. How do these Storm Trooper outfits pertain to killing vampires?
Guy: Uh...

At a little country store yesterday--
Barb: That candle smells so nice!
Store Owner: Oh, doesn't it? You know what happened? When I first got it, it smelled so good that I leaned over to take a deeper sniff, and I burned my nose hairs! And my nose stunk all day. I didn't even know that could happen!

At fancy restaurant, Darla (my mom), John, and his mother having adult talk. Mom has just finished talking about work.
John: You know what, honey?
Darla: What?
John: As soon as all my surgeries (on his legs) are finished and I've healed up, I think I know the perfect job I can get.
Darla: (excited for him) Oh, really? What's that?
John: Taking pictures of Spider-Man.
Darla: *sighs* You're such a dork.

My grandma, Aunt Barb and I went shopping for several hours yesterday. I bought myself some delicious birthday presents:



That's Season 3, Part 1 of Ghost Hunters, the new Kanye West cd, earrings, bubble bath from Bath and Body Works, and two kinds of chocolate bars (those I shared with my aunt and grandma). Oh, and I bought a really cute sweater from J.C. Penney.

Also, the library ladies got me a chocolate cake for my birthday, and my co-worker Barb got me leaf-shaped chocolates from the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory in Duluth.





Also, it's my birthday and I'll John Mayer if I want to. Check out his blog for a new tune and a funny video parody. I tried to embed, but either Blogger is being a douchebag or they've screwed up the html for the video.

"I gotta go, Moe, my damn weiner kids are listening."

It's been a tiring week, y'all. Who opens their business at 7:30 in the morning?? It's crazy! April isn't made to be up that early. I guess I'll get used to it eventually, but I'm just a night person. Who spends entirely too much time reading.

I do like my new responsibilities at the newspaper, though. Obviously there are a lot of things still left to learn, but my co-workers are very helpful. SO different from the last newspaper I worked at, the bunch of crumb bums.

I'm getting super excited about the last weekend in the month, when Kristen and I are going into the Twin Cities to stay and celebrate my birthday a little late. There's a huge craft fair that looks like a rockin' time, and I think we're gonna hit the Mall of America, too.

There's some movies out that look pretty good. If only I had a movie-watching partner. I'm interested in August Rush, but I don't think I can justify theatre prices just because I love Keri Russell. Awake looks creepy, too.

The countdown begins, my friends. Just 5 measley days left until my final year of my twenties. *sigh* Frack.

When libraries attack

Worst. Week. Ever.

Saturday, after kicking out the stragglers at closing time, I locked up the library building and shut off the lights. Then, before leaving, I decided to go to the bathroom, where I was promptly stuck due to a broken lock.

So there I was, alone in a small bathroom, in an empty, locked building, and no one knowing that I needed help.

Luckily, I keep my purse in the bathroom, so I did have access to my cell phone. However, cell phones are virtually useless if you have no service and/or your battery is about to die. I kept trying to call home, but the phone continued to disconnect.

Now, I'm about the least emotional girl you're likely to meet. And I am not one for hysterics (it's just too uncivilized). But I had my first full-blown, Level 10 panic attack. Complete with hyperventilation. And tears. Dudes, I don't do tears.

Finally, I got my message through to Gramps, who promised to get help. An hour and 45 minutes later, my grandparents, a cop, a street department employee, and a locksmith had made their way through the building entrance. I had calmed myself down plenty by then. But did they ask if I was okay? No. They stood outside the door laughing. Someone rattled the doorknob and asked if I was in there. Because I could have disappeared somehow.

I heard someone ask, "How old is she? And she's the librarian?" As if I was an idiot who couldn't figure out how to unlock the door. They didn't get it through their stupid male brains that the lock was jammed, broken.

We took the doorknobs off, after the first brilliant idea to poke a pin through the hole in the doorknob to pop the lock. (Still operating under the pretense that I didn't know how to unlock a door.) The locksmith couldn't unjam the lock, so he slipped a flat crowbar through the knob opening, and I pried on the doorjamb while he applied pressure on the outside of the door. The door finally swung open.

Then the cop said, "Sometimes a credit card will just pop those locks open. Did you think to try that?" Because surely a credit card would work better than a crowbar. Then the street dept. guy said, "Well, that'll teach you a lesson to always carry your cell phone." And continued with a story about a 6-year-old girl who shut the light off in the bathroom before unlocking the door, and how she was stuck for about half an hour before they could calm her down to find the light switch. Because that really relates to me being stuck in an empty building with a door lock that's freaking jammed!

Mother of my father, I was ticked off!

And on Monday I was diagnosed with strep throat. It was horrible. I stayed home all week until today.

Yesterday my boss at the same library called me. "Um, April? I'm locked in the bathroom." Yes, the door had struck again. I was going to bring tools to help her get out, but then she called information and had the locksmith come over. But the weird thing is, just her mentioning being locked in the bathroom caused my hands to start shaking and my legs to tremble for about 30 minutes afterwards.

Also, poor little Jersey had a dentist appointment yesterday to get caps on two teeth that were chipped. When she woke up, she was hysterically crying because she didn't understand why she couldn't stand on her own and why her mouth was numb. She kept screaming, "My bones aren't alive anymore!" :( Poor pumpkin.

A teenaged girl flipped me off this morning on my way to work. And no, before you comment, she wasn't someone I'd kicked off a computer at the library. I'd never seen her before. I was just minding my own business at the stop sign, patiently waiting for the car she was in to make their turn, when she stared me down and gave me the finger. And after I'd just defended how well the teenagers in my town had behaved on Halloween night. Stupid skank.

I will be starting new work hours at the newspaper next week. On Monday, they'll be setting up my new desk and Mac computer (cuz I gets ta start typesettin' press releases, yo!). And I have a fancy desktop nameplate. I'd post a pic, but I can't be displaying my full name on the Internets. I haven't actually seen my own yet, but I did see my boss' nameplate. Very nice.

So, last night while my brother went to work (full-time! benefits! 401k!), I helped take care of Aaliyah. She's finally accepted me and doesn't pull away if I try to hold her. In fact, I'm the silly aunt who likes to make funny noises and play "So big!" and give her little bits of Cheetos.





Also, while I was taking care of Aaliyah, I was peed, pooped, and puked on. In hockey, they call that a hat-trick. So, as I was leaving for the evening, wearing a cast-off pair of Amanda's jeans because mine had been soaked in baby poo, I serenaded my mother (who was cleaning up another mess) with my own version of "Proud to be an American."

"And I'm proud that I'm not a parent,
'cuz at least I know I'm free.
And that I get to go home
while you clean up that pee."

And how did I forget to post this pic of Jerz with the fake teeth that one family gave instead of candy? Would this make her the Grim Vampire?

Also, as a woman was leaving the library this morning, she stopped, turned to look at me and said, "You have incredible eyes, by the way." It was much nicer than being flipped off, I must say.

"I may occasionally kill out of anger, or to illustrate a point, but I'm no Grim Reaper!"

The third stop on the Halloween trail (the first and second being the newspaper and the library) was Grandma and Grandpa's house. In case you can't tell, that's Jersey under that Grim Reaper costume. And yes, she could see very well.



The Grim Reaper selects a Spooky Sucker.



Aww, there she is without the mask. Don't you love her fashionable skull necklace?

She wanted me to take a picture of her smiling pumpkin. Didn't know the Grim Reaper wore pink shoes, did you?

Had to take a pic of this kid's costume because it was so awesome. That's a shark with a scuba diver's legs hanging out of its mouth.

Amanda and Jerz. We took turns getting out of the warm car to take Jersey out in the chilly Halloween evening for candy.

Amanda's turn.

My turn.

Ghostie and Grimmie.

Homer and the Grim Reaper, sans mask.

After we got home, we made pizza mummies

and watched the Ghosthunters live investigation of the Waverly Hills Sanatorium in Kentucky. Topped off by a couple of treats from Jersey's trusty pumpkin bucket. A fine evening, indeed.

Weekend Visit

So we finally pried Aaliyah away from the evil clutches of her mother for an overdue weekend visit with her daddy, Aaron.



Unfortunately, she hasn't seen me since July, so she doesn't remember me. She didn't want anything to do with me, other than an occasional high-five and a reach for my camera.



And this girl could screech the house down if her daddy walked away. But who couldn't forgive this little cutie?

And would you look at those stinking adorable dimples!

Bonus pic: Jersey and Aunt Barbie grinning for the camera.