Kick-ass knee boots! And they zip up! ALL THE WAY UP!



Cue Handel's Messiah chorus.



WideWidths.com rocks my world.

But I do find it interesting that I'm the only person with both my first and last name in the entire United States. The only one out of some 300 million people. Neet.

http://www.howmanyofme.com

However, there are 178,512 Hollys. Less neet.

The Washington Post reports on a bit of a financial snafu on Monday.

The article discusses how a reporter at a Miami investment service that disseminates news regarding distressed companies did a Google search on "bankruptcy" and "2008" and turned up an article from 2002 about United Airlines going into bankruptcy. The article wasn't dated, and the reporter didn't check the validity of the content. He posted the article as "new news" to Bloomberg and well.... the NYSE had to halt trading on United Airlines because so many people started dumping the stock.

As a library staffer, I'm accustomed to dealing with young students who automatically assume that whatever pops up in the first 10 hits on a Google search is pure gold, so no further research or evaluation is needed. However, you'd think a investments professional would know better.

I quit my job at the University. The only things I miss about it are the extra paycheck and the amazingly close proximity to a Starbucks.

My job at the Library is still going well. I had my first actual teen book club meeting last week. It was pirate-themed and went off smashingly. It's a much younger group than I'm accustomed to, though, and in an affluent community. Translation: they're all conservative little mini-Republicans who gasp in shock at swear words on the level "whore." Personally I feel it's debatable whether that even counts as a swear word when it's used literally in the context of a historical novel. Kind of like the word "douche" isn't really an insult when you're referring to feminine hygiene products. At any rate, they're sweet, fun girls, but I still miss my foul-mouthed, bleeding-heart-liberal high school seniors from the Kansas City ghetto.

I started classes at UMD this week, too. I'm gradually coming to realize that taking four classes instead of the recommended three means that I'll be doing homework every waking moment that I'm not in class or at my paying job. If I could just fast forward straight to Christmas, I would. Also, don't even bother inviting me to do anything or even attempting to contact me on Thursdays. I'll be in class from nine in the morning until nine at night.

I just now realized this very second that I don't have my list of 2008 movies saved on my new computer. It must've gotten lost in the great big virus-y accidental system restore that caused me to have to buy a new computer to begin with. That kinda blows.

Tropic Thunder isn't quite as funny as everyone made it out to be, but it's still pretty amusing. Maybe it just seems funnier because Step Brothers came out so recently, and I've rarely seen anything as godawful as that.

I still haven't purchased a dining room table. I may never overcome my fear of commitment.

You know what's fairly awesome? Carnivale. Tim's been introducing me to it on dvd. As we approach the middle of the first season, I'm starting to notice some flaws, but I'm still really into it.

I was initially concerned about my Information Technology class since it is about computers, and I am not a computer person. However, as it turns out, I did take New Media Basics in journalism school, and that probably means I'm set because, judging from the syllabus, half the class is going to be learning how to FTP something. I know I shouldn't get cocky, but still. During our first session, a girl in my class actually asked the professor, "Where is the Internet? Is it, like, in a room somewhere?" I'm not sure, but I think I heard her ask something about "tubes" in there, too. Crikey. You couldn't make this shit up.

I've been hiding from MySpace for weeks now. One of my "friends" (who is only my friend according to the lax standards set forth by Tom) asked me for a photo. I don't want to refuse him since I have no real reason to think he's a perv and that it's not just simple curiosity. At the same time, I don't feel comfortable showing photos of myself (even innocent ones) to a man on the Internet when I'm in a relationship. So I've just not logged onto MySpace since then. I may never log onto MySpace again, in fact. But I suppose it's no great loss. MySpace blows goats anyway.

Lastly, welcome to anyag99! She has relocated to Richmond. Which isn't that close to me really, but it's sure as hell a lot closer than Kansas.

Tonight Tim and I flipped a coin to determine whether we should go see Tropic Thunder or Babylon A.D It landed on heads two out of three times, so Babylon A.D. it was. Consequently, I don't know if I'm madder at Vin Diesel or Thomas Jefferson.

I watched Donnie Darko for the first time last night. Several years late to the party once again. It's one of those movies where now that I've seen it, I just can't stop thinking about it. And the more I think about it, the more I really kind of... like it.

This is a revelation for me because I never really thought it sounded up my alley at all, but as I watched it, it became readily apparent that everything I'd ever heard second-hand or imagined that the movie was about turned out to be wrong. I didn't have any clue about even plot basics, although I was correct in assuming that at some point we'd meet a man-sized psycho rabbit.

For a movie that's billed as bizarre and somewhat inaccessible, I found it quite engaging. And amazingly enough I really do think I understand everything that goes on. Maybe that's because I was watching the Director's Cut. Maybe that's because I pay a bit closer attention to details than some people. Or maybe it's because I understood Donnie Darko in the same way that I say I "understand" the theatrical cut of Legend. Which is something akin to admitting that due to a hormonal irregularity, a naturally-occurring chemical variant of THC produced in my brain allows me delve into the mysteries of nonsensical plotlines deeper than normal humans.

Anyway, another pleasant surprise was how familiar I was with just about every single actor in every single scene. "Holy shit! It's ________!" You can fill in that blank with any number of people: Drew Barrymore, Maggie Gyllenhaal, President Roslin, Patrick Swayze, Seth Rogan, Miguel from Independence Day, Noah Wyle, Jena Malone, and that one character actress who creeps me out in all the right ways who I discovered many years ago in an otherwise completely forgettable Steve Guttenberg vehicle, among others.

So, yeah. Overall, quite satisfying.

Today I set out to use up my Saturday on a long list of tasks that resisted solving. And I had a time limit. Nothing went right, but I still had to get it all done in time to meet Diana for lunch. And finally I did, and lunch was delightful per usual, but what really hit the spot was coming home and stopping on the ground floor to get an ice cream cone for dessert before heading up to my apartment to collapse.

Every weekend in the summer a guy with an ice cream cart sets up shop in the courtyard behind The Tower. Management pays him to be there, and residents can get a free ice cream cone from him any time they want. I asked for a scoop of strawberry ice cream on a sugar cone, and it magically appeared with no money changing hands. That's one of the things I really love about The Tower.

Now, granted, I'm not an idiot. I know it's not really "free" in the strictest sense of the word. Everybody who lives here pays for it and then some with their exorbitantly high rent. But, you know, I bet in this area there are many, many apartment buildings that charge exorbitantly high rent, but they don't all give you ice cream.

News that I failed my car's safety inspection is a bit easier to swallow along with some delicious ice cream.

Here's the truly important opinion poll: ( Which dining table should Holly buy? )

I have conquered chicken fettuccine alfredo!

After tweaking my recipe, it actually came out edible. Dare I say it, even tasty. You should all come over and have some chicken fettuccine alfredo. That I will make from scratch for you. If you don't count the noodles. Which I certainly don't.

Thank God for germane_jackson. Otherwise I never would've come across this fantastically inappropriate vintage advertisement for Puma that makes my life complete:

( I didn't want to use a cut tag, but years of answering to public library boards of directors has exsanguinated** all the brashness out of me. )

**Note: Why have I not seen the new X-Files movie yet? Why? I DO want to believe, dammit!

An e-card from Kate, who is awesome


Last year my birthday was such a non-event that I've completely forgotten how I spent it, and I can't even go back and look it up because I never posted anything about it on LiveJournal. But I do vividly remember that around this time last year, I promised myself that 2008 would be different. I planned to do something out-of-the-ordinary for me: I was going to throw myself a dinner party at a restaurant, and all my friends would be there.

But then we moved away from Kansas City and that plan was shot to hell. As a result, I kept forgetting that my birthday was coming up pretty much until it had already passed.

However, this is a not a "I am teh Woe" post. I actually had a very nice birthday this year. It was just less grandiose and more laid-back. And it was kind of cool seeing the Olympics ads trumpeting 8-8-08 all over the television leading up to my birthday.

For the record, I worked on my actual birthday, but then I celebrated on Sunday. Tim and I went furniture shopping, and then he bought me a slice of birthday cake at CakeLove on Clare's recommendation. I also received a belated birthday cupcake from Clare herself last night when we went to watch the original Superman movie at Screen on the Green at the National Mall. Despite having to bundle up in our picnic blankets to ward off the unseasonable chilliness as the night got later, I had a grand time. If Tim and I are still here next summer, I'm totally going to make Screen on the Green a habit.

Thanks to everyone who called, messaged, e-mailed and gifted me. I appreciate it.

Attention All Providers of Medical/Health/Wellness Resources:

My job at the University involves cataloguing your services for inclusion in the be-all, end-all comprehensive database of all time that will theoretically help Average Joe Consumer find the resources available to him locally with ease. The entire (and only) point of my mind-numbing, repetitive daily endeavor is to HELP YOU connect with the people you want to serve. Is it too much to ask that you meet me halfway here?

Why do so many of you not include all of your contact information on your websites? WHY? I understand if you run a shelter for domestic violence victims, then maybe you don't want everyone to know your street location. That's okay. But if you are an advocacy group for families with children with food allergies, I submit to you that there is NO GOOD GOD DAMN REASON TO NOT HAVE A MAILING ADDRESS LISTED. Other than maybe my aggravation entertains you.

I am of sick of this. You are all on notice.

Holly

So yesterday I had a nice long visit with the Department of Motor Vehicles. I got a Virginia driver's license, retitled my car in Virginia and received Virginia license plates (which are a boring-ass design, I might add).

It all went swimmingly except that my Missouri safety inspection theoretically should have been good enough because it was less than 12 months old, but I guess it didn't have the "necessary" emissions information on it. The lady was nice enough to issue my plates and registration anyway, but they expire at the end of September. That'll give me time enough to have a proper Virginia emissions inspection done and then renew my registration online so that I don't have to wait at the DMV twice.

I also registered to vote and applied online for the required city decal that's entirely separate from my DMV business that apparently I also need to be street legal. I guess I live here now for real.

And because it was tax-free weekend in Virginia, I bought some school supplies. My brand-new Five Star notebooks underline how I'm going to start college again soon. Also for real.

No one leaped at the opportunity I gave them to pay my way through school, so I had to bite the bullet and actually submit my loan paperwork today after work. In the space of a single afternoon I've gone from simply flat broke to in debt for an impossibly large sum of money. After I finished with the unbelievable hassle attached to what should have been a relatively quick and easy chore -- signing papers electronically with a pin number -- I felt the need to lie in a fetal position in bed for almost an hour. I'm still kind of depressed even now.