Laughter Wanted.

Whenever I am in need of a good laugh, the following commercial never fails to deliver the desired result:



This commercial is a close second:



What is your go-to when you are in need of a good laugh (or two)?

City of Wonder.

Hi, my name is Rebecca.  And I am addicted to the Facebook game City of Wonder.

Having once been obsessed with the games Mobsters and Mafia Wars (I have found that obsessions are easy to come by when one is bored at work), I am aware of just how easily (and quickly) I fall under the spell of things that for all intents and purposes appear to be competitive.

By golly, I want to win the competition.  No matter what it is.

It starts out so innocently.  You begin to build your civilization.  Grow your population.  Add allies (that is if you are able to convince any of your Facebook friends that it is absolutely necessary to life that they start playing the game).  Then, all of a sudden, your slow and steady progress isn't good enough.  You want more.

The creators add items that you can "purchase" for your land only through parting with exorbitant amounts of gold.  The only problem is, you earn one bar of gold every time you reach a new level.  That insane asylum you want (a special just for Halloween - and something you may very well end up needing in real life) costs 35.

But wait - I can take surveys to earn more gold!  Except that 7 times out of 10 you don't qualify for the survey - and you can only attempt to gain gold this way once per day.  So, countless time is spent attempting to qualify for and take mind numbing surveys, all for a measly four to ten gold each.

Then you start dabbling in other ways to earn gold.  Buy a subscription to Shape magazine for 28 gold!  Sign up for Netflix for 60 gold!  Join Columbia House for 80 gold!  When you find yourself starting to consider parting with your hard earned money to straight out purchase gold, you have to ask yourself, "Do I have a problem?"

The answer is most likely yes, you do.

Funny how a click of the mouse can become so addicting, isn't it?

Looks like I might have to quit this one cold turkey.

The dark side of getting older.

Dear Metabolism,

I suffered deep and utter embarrassment today when at the university health benefits fair I had to divulge my weight to a petite (and very much skinny) younger woman.

(Yes, I am at the age now when suddenly because I work on a college campus most everyone must be younger than I am.)

(Except for tenured faculty, of course.)

(And perhaps the secretaries of the various departments on campus.)

I "volunteered" to tell this woman my weight so that she could tell me:

• (a) that I am obese according to my body mass index (of which, by the way, the Wii Fit had already informed me months ago thankyouverymuch) and
• (b) that my body fat percentage also lies outside of the healthy range (what a shocker there).

So, my older and increasingly loathed (not to mention much slower) metabolism, would it really be so hard to function at the capacity of my late teens/early twenties?

It sure would make things a whole lot easier on me.

(And by that I mean I could continue to eat whatever I want, whenever I want.)

(After all, the unhealthy choices just taste so much better.)

Begrudgingly yours,
One Not So Mindful Eater

World's Dumbest Employees.

You've heard of the television show World's Dumbest Criminals, right? Well, yesterday I could have been on the show World's Dumbest Employees.

It all started with a rocky Monday, followed by an email received Tuesday morning that sent me over the edge in terms of anger towards and complete dislike of my job (not the job itself, but rather certain individuals who have the innate ability to suck any and all joy out of the work environment).  Having contemplated looking for alternate employment for quite some time, I finally decided to take the plunge.  In addition to searching for open positions at several universities out of state, I applied to four positions posted on the human resources website for the university at which I currently work.

My intentions were never to keep my job search a complete secret from my boss, but rather to wait and see if I landed any job interviews before discussing the matter with him.  I saw no need to rock the boat and jeopardize what little comfort I have by prematurely announcing my hopefully impending resignation.  As fate would have it, however, the public announcement of my job search would not occur at my own discretion. 

(Can you see where this is heading?)

Thursday afternoon, a graduate student from another laboratory randomly said to me, "Oh yeah, you applied to a position that was posted by [your boss]."  I can just imagine what the look on my face must have been.  Color drained, an expression of utter disbelief followed by an unspoken plea for mercy.  Least to say, the next time I crossed paths with my boss, he told me to stop by his office before I left for the day.  Talk about AWKWARD.

Lesson learned?  When searching for a new job, only apply to listings that are clearly in no way even remotely related to my current position.  In other words, don't be such a dumbass.

Cruel to be kind?

A week ago today, I made a decision that I will be questioning for quite some time.

Late Saturday evening, January 23rd, I was startled when I caught a glimpse of something outside on my patio as my two cats, Gabriel and Juliesan, frantically walked back and forth through the blinds. At first I thought the two were chasing an insect that had found it's way inside my apartment, but upon closer inspection I realized the cause of all the commotion was a stray cat sitting directly outside the sliding glass door.

It was cold and rainy that evening, so against my better judgment I slid open the door to let the stray cat inside. Not wanting to chance any aggressive behavior between the stray and my two cats, I coaxed the stray to the second bedroom, which is solely the "cat room." Aside from a couple of instances of hissing, the stray followed me willingly and without hesitation. I worked quickly to set up a clean litter box, food bowl, and water bowl for the stray cat, while also moving Gabriel and Juliesan's things to a different location outside of the room. The stray cat started purring almost immediately, and was extremely affectionate, albeit being obviously malnourished and having been outside for quite some time. After determining the stray cat was a male, I decided I could not in good conscience put him back outside to fend for himself, yet I knew I could not permanently keep him either. Although he appeared to be healthy, to be on the safe side I kept him separated from Gabriel and Juliesan.

Fast forward to Monday. In the morning I called the Humane Society to schedule an appointment to bring the stray cat to the shelter. By this time I had given him a name - Jack. The earliest appointment the Humane Society had was nearly three weeks away, and I knew I was already in danger of becoming attached to my new furry friend. I went ahead and made the appointment, unsure of what else to do. With the appointment so far away, coupled with having discovered blood in Jack's urine, I scheduled an appointment for him with Gabriel and Juliesan's vet to have him examined. At the vet, Jack was given a physical exam, along with a de-wormer (for precautionary measures) and a urinalysis. Jack's urinalysis came back clean, which meant that although he would not need medication, he would need to be put on a special diet. Armed with samples of food and a hefty bill (even with the discount the vet gave me), I brought Jack back home and got settled in for the next couple of weeks.

Throughout the days leading up to my appointment at the Humane Society, I continued keeping Jack separated. I would visit him in the morning and after getting home from work, petting him and attempting to play with him. (I say attempting to play with him because without fail after the second or third time I would tease him with a toy, he would unintentionally end up getting my fingers rather than the toy with his claws, and they were sharp. There was no competing with the speed of his reflexes.) Juliesan did not like being kept out of the room knowing I was inside with another cat, so once or twice I let her in to see if she and Jack would get along. While Julie is fairly accepting of new and unfamiliar cats, Jack was not so open to making a new friend, so least to say his interaction with Juliesan was short lived.

I could feel myself growing increasingly attached to Jack as each day passed, and I tried the best I could to find him a new home. Unfortunately, everyone I know currently has all the pets that they want. I even put a desperate plea on Facebook, asking if anyone was willing to take Jack in. My resolve wavered between knowing I could not keep Jack (not only because of the stresses it would bring to my already overburdened finances, but more importantly because there is a two pet limit at my apartment complex, and with biannual inspections coming up I could not risk breaking the rules) and trying to figure out a way I could make keeping him work.

On Wednesday, February 10th, it took every ounce of my willpower to walk into the Humane Society for my appointment to surrender Jack. Luckily the process was relatively short, as I spent the entire time struggling to hold back tears. Once Jack was taken out of the carrier I brought him in and placed in a holding cage, he looked directly at me and let out a sorrowful meow, as if asking me why I was abandoning him in that strange place. I turned to leave, and before I could even get through the door leading outside the tears began to fall, and I proceeded to cry like a baby until well after I reached home.

Every day since, I have obsessively checked the adoption listings on the Humane Society web page to see if Jack has been made available for adoption. So far, he has been listed under a separate area for found and stray animals, although I highly doubt anyone will claim him. The vet did say he had been neutered, which leads me to believe he did at one time have a home, but he was not microchipped. Jack's listing was also lacking a photograph, and without there being a picture of him it is not likely anyone would recognize he is their missing cat, if he indeed belonged to someone prior to showing up at my door. I have thought several times about going to the Humane Society and trying to get Jack back, but they would probably think me crazy and would not release him to the person who brought him there in the first place. Last night I had a dream that I did return to the Humane Soceity. Jack was sitting on an examination table, and when he saw me he immediately jumped down and came over to me, purring and rubbing up against me as cats do when they want attention. It was all I could do to keep myself from crying all over again.

Not a day goes by that I do not miss Jack. Unfortunately I was faced with two equally unappealing choices - either put him back outside, or take him to the Humane Society. I chose to take him to the Humane Society with the hope that although it might be a scary and stressful place at the start, someone will see him and fall in love with him the way I did, and will provide a healthy and happy home for him. I just wish there was a way I could have communicated to Jack that by giving him up I was not abandoning him, but rather I was trying to do what was best for him, regardless of the way I felt.

I just hope I made the right choice.

A late Christmas wish.

"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."
Hebrews 11:1, ESV

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I read the following through Clever Girl Goes Blog.

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"My name is brandy. And I have a blog.

And a plea.

I use my blog to showcase the crazy I meet everyday, share the stories of the kids I teach and document my love for tequila, dairy products and the abdominal muscles of Ryan Reynolds. Rarely do I talk about personal issues on my blog- as personal as the dude that I adore (who I actually met through my blog- single ladies, let that be a very good reason to blog, the possibility of meeting someone as wonderful as my man), but I need your help. And it involves my dude.

He's a guy who made math comics for my class, so they would love learning about addition. He's the kinda guy who sends my friends gift cards when they are having hard times, who remembers every story I ever told him, who was the first person I celebrated with when I got a teaching job. He's the guy who sent flowers to me at school- dozens of my favourite pink roses just because he loves me. He's a guy who has spent a year patiently explaining (and re-explaining) everything there is to know about football during the important games when silence is preferred. He's made me word puzzles and comics and stayed up late playing Scrabble with me (even though I beat him almost every time). He's listened to me cry about school and family and jobs. He is everything I never knew I needed and everything I always knew I wanted.

The holidays have hit us hard. He's recently been told he may have something called multiple myeloma- an incurable cancer, that gives a person an average of five years of continued life. Though this news has came as a shock, he continues to be exactly who has always been- spending his time worrying about me, rather than worrying about himself. He's the most selfless individual I know- (he stayed late on Christmas Eve to work, so his co-workers could leave early) and a post like this would never be something that he would promote or encourage but when I'm overwhelmed and feeling helpless, the blogging community has always given me tremendous support and comfort, two things I desperately need at this time.

As I write this, the future is uncertain and we aren't sure what's happening. He'll need to see an oncologist soon, to verify what's going on in his body. My hope is that everyone who reads this think positive thoughts and if you are a person who prays, could you add him to your list? (You can refer to him as 'brandy's hot awesome dude'). If you don't pray, please keep him in your heart.This cancer is only a possibility and I believe that the prayers and positive thoughts of people can make sure it never becomes a reality.

I want to give a big thank you to the blog owner who scraped their original blog plans and graciously put this up. My goal is to get as many people as possible to see and read this post. If you are reading this and want to help, copy and paste my plea into your blog or send a link through twitter, so more people can keep him in their thoughts. I would be so very grateful (even more grateful than I am to my friend who first showed me the picture of Ryan Reynolds on the cover of Entertainment Weekly. If you haven't seen it, google it. You. Are. Welcome).

I realize this all sounds dramatic, a Lifetime movie in the making- but this is life. Right now. And I'm throwing away any hint of ego and am humbly asking for you to pray or think kind thoughts. If you are able to pass this on, thank you and if you know anything regarding MM- please email me (my email is on my blog). This isn't a call for sympathy or a plea for pity. It's just one girl hoping you can think positive thoughts for the person she adores. If my current heartache provides you with anything, let it be with the reminder that life is short, love is unbending and no one knows what could happen next. Maybe it is silly, but I really do believe that positive thoughts can make a huge difference. Thank you for reading this and if you haven't already? Please tell someone you love them today.

I did."

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To go, or not to go....

Recently I was invited to a New Year's Eve party through Facebook by an acquaintance from college, whom I will refer to as Double H. I was both surprised and flattered by the invitation, seeing as how I have not spoken to him in over six years (and before you ask, no, he did not merely invite everyone on his friend list). While it could be fun to go to the party, let's face it - I am not nor have I ever been socially savvy. I am more than a bit nervous about showing up to a party by myself where I know a single person that will be in attendance, and barely at that. To make matters slightly worse, I noticed today that one of the invitees is a guy I winked at on match.com, whose response was "thanks for the wink, but I don't think you are a good match for me." Thank goodness he is currently listed as not attending the party, as I can only imagine how awkward it would be to run into him should he recognize me! (I shudder at the thought.)

All possible and likely embarrassing catastrophes aside, attending the party could result in several positive scenarios. First and foremost, I would be venturing outside of my comfort zone, which I feel is important for me to do if I am going to continue to grow as an individual. I mean, I could actually have fun! Not only that, but it would provide the potential to cross off the following two items from my 30 Before 30 List:

27. Hold a conversation with a stranger.
30. Make a new friend (one not connected to someone I already know).

Knowing I will most certainly chicken out at the last minute if I plan to go by myself, I have thought about emailing Double H and simply being honest about my apprehensions, and asking if he or anyone else would like to meet up before the party and arrive together. Would this be completely and totally lame? Another option would be there is an Indiana Ice hockey game that evening, so I could ask Double H if he or anyone else would want to catch the game before heading to the party. What do ya'all think? What would you do if you were me?