I have instructed iTunes to play only Tori Amos until I give it new instructions. This is because today is not a day I can take chances with music. I had a project for the afternoon (a work-project, not a fun project) but I finished it (I know, right?!? What are the chances?) so now I'm looking apprehensively at the next two-and-a-half hours, giving them a little squinty-eye, making sure we understand each other.

I'm almost finished my Christmas shopping, because I'm crazy like that; and yesterday James and my sister came over and we decorated our tree. Isn't it fine?

James sang a little song about its decorations coming from IKEA, and Kristen and I corrected him in unison: "And Winners!" The little pink disco balls come from Winners. Yep. We also watched The Nightmare Before Christmas because we're good at staying on-theme.

Now the box the Christmas tree came in is sitting in front of my couch, and I'm pretending it's an occasional table so I don't have to find a place to store it in my apartment. I may put some decorative candles on it later, or a table runner with pointsettas on it. This is a very clever approach, one I suggest for anyone living in a small space. I also pretend that the empty Land's End box holding up the tree is a tree stand, and that the pile of dishes on my kitchen counter is one of those little temperature-contolled wine fridges.

Teh interwebs is for countdowns

13 sleeps to Vegas.
I am not going to get murdered while I am there, don't worry.

squeeee

I enjoyed this Mother Jones interview with Joss Whedon.

JW: My cast was not hideous to look upon. I made every act break at an exciting time that would make you want to come back after you examined these products that we used to examine before TiVo. And I tried to make money for the people that I work with, like Hyman Roth.

I'm going to download the podcast.

how did this happen?

i'm sick again, Internet. It seems unbelievable, I know, and it's sucking my will to live. 48 hours have passed and nothing--not the cocktail of pills nor the seemingly endless hours of sleep nor the dozens of episodes of Gilmore Girls--has made things any better. It's been weeks since I did all my dishes. On my way home today a slow Calexico song came on and I almost started to cry. However, the Christmas lights downtown are very pretty.

Recent conversations with strangers executed without actually speaking

Woman in parking lot: Can you believe this guy?
Jocelyn: I know, I'm sorry. We were going to let you have our parking spot. The 99th Street diner is so busy on weekends.
Woman: it's ok, it's not your fault.

Woman on bus: Aah, my hands are full, can you help me flip this bus seat down?
Jocelyn: Sure. Ok, you pull the lever out, I'll push the seat down.
Woman: Thanks.
Jocelyn: No problem.

Pet Peeves.

1. People who sit in the aisle seat on a bus with an empty seat next to them.
1b. People who do this and then, when you make it clear you want to sit in the empty seat, turn sideways with their legs into the aisle so you have to squeeze past them to get into the seat. Like, instead of either moving over or standing up so you can get in. I don't like to be heartless, but if some psycho shot everyone who does this, I wouldn't care. LEARN TO LIVE IN SOCIETY.

2. People who wait forever in the drive-through with their engines idling when there's no line inside Tim Horton's. GET OUT OF YOUR CAR. I hope your grandchildren don't hate you when they realize you personally destroyed the rainforest and choked cute birds with your plastic debris in the oceans.

I'm in a littttttle bit of a grouchy mood today. But then, I haven't really been sleeping. Since junior high.

festive

I wrapped my first Christmas present tonight, because I'm just insane like that. It's how I roll.

How much do I love the favicon picker for firefox 3?

This much:

<------------------------------------------------------------->

SNOW!

I'm sure I posted an identical photo around this time last year, but I've never let repetitiveness get in my way.

Posting on craftster when I should be working. And I was actually thinking about heading over to Starbucks, which is a level of meta-procrastination--going for coffee to avoid the thing I should be doing to avoid work.

Sweet victory! This morning I finally got my online student loan account to work. That is the good news. The bad news is that in order to do this I had to call their automated phone system, and when you enter your social insurance number (followed by the number sign), it tells you the exact amount of your loan--which is precisely what I wanted to know. Then it tells you that the interest rate you (/I) are paying is 6.5%, which is prime + 2%. THEN it tells you that you (me) are paying 2 DOLLARS AND FORTY THREE CENTS A DAY IN INTEREST.

Why would someone program their automated phone system to say something like that? Are they just trying to make me cry, or do they have some higher purpose? It seems like there should at least be an option, you know. As in, to hear the daily amount of interest you are being charged, press 1. To have the phone system tell you you are fat, press 2. To find out if your boyfriend is cheating on you (I'll give you a hint: the answer is yes!), press 3. To hear the symptoms of a variety of deadly diseases, press 4. That's my coffee money, GONE. I hope the National Student Loan Service Centre is happy that I'm going to spend the rest of the day crying into my gross (free) office coffee.

Boy, things started out so positive there and then took a turn for the worst. That always seems to happen, doesn't it?

I've got this quote on my mind-grapes

"Things have been said that cannot be taken back! She called my vanity license plate 'inscrutable'! 'ICU81MI'? Hilarious!" -Tracy Jordan, on why he is fighting with his wife, 30 Rock

Just a quick screenshot to say:

Don't mess with me. My mace is gigantic, it glows, and it's very pokey.

I got my first taste of raiding last night, and that was my booty.

Tee hee, booty.

Seriously, though, I feel like I've ascended to a new level of nerdiness in which sitting at one's desk wearing a headset for almost 6 hours seems like an enticing way to spend a Friday night. Although, keep in mind, I don't have cable.

(Also: in the newest Warcraft patch you can get your character's nose pierced. Yup, I paid (pretend) money for that, in much the same way I spent real money to get my real nose pierced.)

Small pleasures

This is one of my favourite times of year because I finally get to wear mittens. I love how mittens can make a totally impractical outfit downright cozy.

The second season of 30 Rock is hilarious.

Also: wheeled office chairs are basically the main reason I became an adult. I just wheeled down to the end of the workroom and back, ostensibly for a "meeting."

One non-pleasure: I want two of the Amazon MP3 store's $5 albums today, but they still serve only US customers. It's so ridiculous. It's like I'm trying to hand them cash and they're like, ohh... we're not really interested. thanks though.

Heartbreak in 17 syllables.

A follow up to 2 haikus I wrote for my new travel mug.

i remember it
my stainless steel travel mug
in the good old days

i've searched everywhere
it's not in the lost and found
i might as well die.

Me, pretending to be a wedding website

"If you're like most women, you've probably been dreaming of the day you would obtain a melee weapon that does more than 200dps since you were a little girl."

It's all happening.

It was kind of a rough weekend in Jocelyn-topia, as I discovered that the pigeons on my balcony--my nemeses for many months--had actually built a (pathetic, but present nonetheless) NEST on my balcony. They built it kind of behind a chair so I wouldn't see it, the sneaky little pigeon-bastards. And there were 2 dead baby pigeons in that nest. I scared the parents away and then very gingerly cleaned up the nest, although--and I doubt this will shock you, gentle reader--I then started to cry on my balcony. These little pigeons were really gross and sad and dead, and the fact that their parents were continuing to nest kind of on top of them seemed horribly morbid and--what's the word I'm looking for?--maudlin. These pigeons just keep messing with me. I want to move away.

[Previously, in the Pigeon Chronicles: disputed territory; hi pigeons]

I just got one of those dealies from my bank where every time I use my debit card, it rounds up to the nearest dollar and puts that in my savings account. I was going to say that I am going to become a millionaire this way... but actually, in order for that to happen, I would have to have more than a million dollars to start with. I can do the math. I'm going to become a hundredaire!

I've been very busy and lazy simultaneously. Things I have been neglecting in my lazy/busy haze: blogging, swimming, dishes (actually all cleaning activities, full stop). I'm trying to get back to all 3. (I have been diligent about swimming and cleaning for the past three days, and the blogging is happening, well, right now.) I stop paying attention for a few minutes, or weeks, and my life starts to get away from me.

Recently, in brief: liked Passchendaele; enjoying Season 1 of Bones and Season 2 of The Muppet Show; reading and liking--but feeling a bit confused by--Benjamin Nugent's American Nerd: The Story of My People; loved the Graveyard Book; and also, a variety of wedding-planning things, including The DIY Wedding and my new favourite website, Offbeat Bride. Yep. I'm planning a wedding, it's true--although I stubbornly refuse to become one of those crazy wedding-planning girls who won't shut up about their stupid wedding. Also planning: what I think will be an absurdly decadent trip to Las Vegas in December. There will be buffets. And hot tubs. And a drive through the desert, which I feel like I've been dreaming of my whole life, or at least since I began reading the books of Douglas Coupland.

I'll be back. For real this time.