Oh, wait, the cast of Veronica Mars already has taken over the world:

YES!!!!

I've just spotted Weevil in an episode of The OC. What is Weevil NOT in these days. Veronica Mars (the cast, not the character) will take over the world eventually, I'm sure of it.

Can we talk about how badly I want this bookshelf? I feel like something like this would be really easy to make, given the right materials and enough black paint.


GOD. It's fucking gorgeous, and I am officially a bookish old-person for lusting after a bookshelf. Awesome.

This morning, I made lemon myrtle tea and it was delicious. I hereby declare lemon myrtle tea my new DRINK THIS project.

I hate when my phone rings at work. Sometimes, I think of any reason possible to not asnwer it and wait for the voicemail.

In Which Abbie Bitches About Not Getting Mail

Grad school is a bitch.

Accepted: Texas State

Rejected (acceptance rates for this year in parantheses): Cornell (1.5%), Minnesota (3.4%), Amherst (2.9%), Syracuse (4.8%), Vanderbilt (1.4%)
That's the product of a ridiculously high increase in applicants meeting a terrible economy, and thus, less funding. For perspective: when I decided to apply to them, all but Cornell had acceptance rates between 5 and 8%, leaning towards the 8.

Waitlisted: Alabama (4%), Florida (2.5%)

Unknown, because my mail takes fucking forever (seriously, people started getting mail from Southern Illinois two weeks ago, and I live in Illinois but have yet to get anything from them): Southern Illinois - Carbondale (estimated around 10%), Minnesota State - Mankato, Indiana (2.9%), Louisiana (my top choice, who just mailed letters out this week)

Seriously, where the fuck is my mail? Most of those rejections just got to me last week, and I know that those schools started mailing out rejections over a month ago. These schools: they're KILLING me.

Katie, it's come to my attention that this exists:

I don't know how or where one buys this, but GOD. Must. Have. We need to drink some tea out of that mug of truth.

Saint Patrick's Day is gross, and appears to be a sacred holiday to all Ann Arbor frat boys.

Thanks to the creation of Junior Mints Pastels, I can now enjoy Junior Mints again! It turns out there is happiness in a life without chocolate.

Instead of going to the gym after work today like I had intended, I went shopping and bought clothes to wear to the gym. It's almost the same thing, really.

Another story worth posting

My office-mate Patty, one of the Nurse Practitioners, just told a little boy he had a virus. And he asked, "Did the computer give it to me?".

Junk Mail

My emails somehow ended up in Amy Smith's Junk Mail. But then she apparently berated the computer for calling me junk and emailed me.

And so, I am having a great day.

I get so frustrated when my stapler runs out of staples despite the fact that it is one of the easiest problems to fix.

I am so in love with the new Ninja theme on Gmail that it's almost pathetic.

Today, I ran out of Kleenex.

Every time I go to the store, I forget to buy toothpaste and deodorant. Now I really need toothpaste and deodorant.

I burn pretty much everything I cook in my oven because it is probably 100 degrees hotter than it says it is, and also it cooks everything in 10 minutes! My muffins were supposed to cook for 20 minutes, and they were burnt by 15!

Now my tiny apartment smells like burnt muffin.

The following is a conversation I just overheard while sitting in my office.

Doctor R: "I JUST CAN'T TAKE IT"
Doctor A: "Jesus, I'm going to put some Xanax in your tea"
Doctor R: "Lord"

I still have minor panic attacks when my cat makes noises in my living room at night, which is ridiculous, since if someone broke into my living room, they most definitely would have made a lot more noise than some papers rustling or light leap onto the couch.

Sock-sorting: a piece of my family history

Growing up I never really had socks of my own. Early in my life, maybe even before I was born, my parents decided we would no longer sort socks. They would simply be thrown into one huge basket (what we call "the sock bucket") and we would share since we all basically wore the same socks anyway. As a result, we all had one extra drawer to keep other things in and the task of sorting socks never became a source of tension or annoyance. I believe it helped to establish a strong bond between us. A family that wears socks together, sticks together.

Anyway, my sister, an avid reader of this blog, recently brought it to my attention that we may be the only family to use this method of sock-sorting. She recently polled 14 people and each found our ways slightly outrageous.

However, to this day, I do not sort my socks and I never will. I also do not pack socks when I go home because I know when I need a fresh pair their will be an entire bucket of socks to choose from--all ready to warm my toes.