Dear The Internets,

Here is the shit which has gone down since last week:

ahem...Saturday, John Baby proposed. While Hot Chocolate's "You Sexy Thing" was looping on my computer in the background. So very romantic.

Monday, it became increasingly evident that my new next door neighbors were manufacturing meth in their apartment. Chemical smell increasing in frequency and strength.

Tuesday, called the land lady, and then the police.

Wednesday, officially homeless. It seems like it will take a while for this whole situation to be resolved, and the fumes were making me physically ill, and are also potentially toxic/combustible....also, meth-addled neighbors potentially having a shoot out with the police doesn't sound like fun to me....so now I am couch surfing with some tolerant lady teachers. I'll need to find a new place, I guess? Meanwhile, hoping my book collection doesn't get bullet riddled, melted, or caught on fire in my absence.

Thursday, John Baby discovers that his ATM number and PIN have been used to withdraw the entirety of his bank account at an ATM in Chicago. Probably due to the Office Depot purchases he has made this year...apparently Office Depot, among other merchants, have had their systems compromised and allowed people to manufacture usable ATM cards with PINs to match.

Friday...?

Anyway. We're getting married, and the world is going to hell in a handbasket. Please attend our wedding in January! With our luck, there will be a direct meteor strike right after the cake cutting!

Wavelet and John Baby have more fun.

Bio-ethics discussion de-railed:

W: Wait, how long has beer been around?

JB: Thousands of years, I think?

W: That is long enough to explain why guys are the way they are! Beer goggles have become an evolutionary advantage!

JB: Um...

W: Seriously. The man who stops and thinks about whether or not he should have children at this point in time and with this woman? Not having very many children. The man who is all "You're pretty when I'm drunk"? His seed will live long in the land.

This is why they call him Smoove John B:

JB: It's funny, but whenever I see movies now, I find something that reminds me of you in every actress.

W: Hmm.

JB: For example, tonight, Natalie Portman [in "V is for Vendetta"]...well, maybe I shouldn't say this, it isn't very romantic.

W: Shoot.

JB: Well, after Natalie Portman had her head shaved, all I could think was "She has a hairy neck, just like Wavelet!"

Well, I'm beginning the arduous process of escaping Southern California. I've been in SoCal for...six years now? Too long. I've already been infected with a genuine speech impediment (saying "like" far more often than I would rather), had my car rear-ended four times (and nearly smooshed by pickup trucks and SUVs pretty much every day), and still haven't taken up surfing. However, I'll have escaped without ever having my eyebrows waxed or getting a pedicure. I win I win I win!

The destination: NorCal Bay Area. I'm currently looking around for teaching positions up there. Putting together statements of purpose and whatnot is tons of fun. One thing I've discovered about myself, though, while evaluating my strengths and weaknesses, is that I am really and truly not a leader. I would rather spend twenty hours working on something myself than twenty minutes organizing several people to do the work in two hours. My aversion to telling other people what to do (other than qua critic or teacher) knows no bounds. I am probably happiest taking other people's ideas and refining/perfecting/implementing them. If I got people to work on my bright ideas, I'd feel personally responsible if everything went to shite. I'd much rather be a blissfully inculpable flunky type.

Frankly, I find those who want to lead other people inexplicable at best, insane at worst. It's a good thing the world isn't made up of people like me. Productivity would grind to a halt as we all side-stepped participating in any form of decision making whatever.

Even though I live alone, I still have a habit of opening up the fridge, peering in, seeing no edible food, wandering away, and then, twenty minutes later, opening the fridge again and peering in expectantly, perhaps in the hopes that the magical fridge fairy has replenished the supply of tasty food in the interim.

Or maybe I'm just waiting for the wilted vegetables to throw a little party in there, Peewee's Playhouse style.

In this first picture, the John Baby and I look all proportional and such.



But in the second, our true height disparity is revealed. Yes, that is me on the left.

We are family.

Why is it...that every Ash Wednesday, the priest or deacon always administers the ashes above my left eyebrow? Everyone else gets nice, neat ashes smack dab in the center of their forehead. Mine are always way out in left field. Perhaps my face is askew, and I didn't notice?

Next time, I'm going to draw a bullseye on my forehead in purple felt pen. I want my Catholic bindi to look symmetrical, dammit!