...that was weird

Okay, so I'm sure that by now you all know about my ridiculous obsession with Supernatural and the lovely men thereof. I thought I was alone in loving this television series, at least within the sphere of people that I actually communicate with. Anyway, last night I get home at like 11:30, and see my dad still up (keep in mind that his usual bedtime is 9:30), and not only this, but he was watching Supernatural. I mean yeah, the guy was a hardcore trekkie and never missed an episode of the X-Files, but really? I had not figured that when I watched a couple episodes with him that he would end up staying up for two hours past his bedtime watching my favorite show. It was just really weird.

And also in the "that was weird" vein, pretty sure the entire evening at ROS was spent discussing men and the anatomical parts which they possess. I was quite scandalized by the fact that people much younger than me (and I assumed more innocent) had become much more familiar with the various things that go along with a hardcore make-out session.

...

In quite a different vein, I love to play the piano. I just recently learned how to play "Love Song" by Sara Bareilles, and that has occupied the musical bit of my brain for the past couple days.

Speaking of the musical part of my brain, I've been obsessed with several songs over the past couple of weeks - here they are.

Life in the Fast Lane - The Eagles
I Can't Fight This Feeling - REO Speedwagon
Back in Black - ACDC

Classic rock is where it's at.

I Can't Fight This Feeling Any Longer

So for some reason every time I leave Barnes and Noble on any particular weekend, I am left with an inexplainable, unquenchable need to be or do or have more than I am or do or have. I leave with a sense that I should immediately begin working on my Pulitzer prize-winning novella, or that I should somehow bump into the man of my dreams and fall madly in love and have a whirlwind romance. And this desire or urge or whatever it is always goes unfulfilled because, as I well know, I will never start my Pulitzer prize-winning novella or meet the man of my dreams immediately after leaving Barnes and Noble at 11:00 on a Friday or Saturday because, let's face it, I have no motivation or inspiration to write my novella, and the man of my dreams is definitely not going to jump out in front of my moped as I whiz down the street and cause me to stop and fall in love with him.

But nonetheless, that desire just hits me every time. And after the urgency of the feeling has passed, I am left with a strange aftertaste of sorts that causes me to listen to emo music and classic rock.

So that's what I'm doing right now, as well as experimenting with making livejournal icons. Except that I'm worried they'll all turn out incredibly emo. Like me.

And now I actually kind of feel like an adult

Mostly because of this whole 9-5 sort of job thing I have going on. It is a giant pain in the rear end. I get up early, work all day, come home, eat, maybe watch a little Supernatural (whose season finale pretty much blew me out of the water!!) and then go to bed (ridiculously early because I'm so tired from working all day) and start all over. And this weekend really didn't help all that much.

So in addition to my job at the clinic, I'm also back at Swimtastic. Woohoo. Anyway, I was asked to help out with a Kid's Expo out past the mall. Our booth included a dunk tank. Lots of fun, you say? Hardly. It was quite possibly the most miserable, spirit-crushing, physically uncomfortable experience of my entire life. Not only did I have to sit almost naked (I was wearing a swimsuit) on a metal seat while small children threw giant baseballs to dunk me in the water, but the water was frigid. The venue at which the expo was being held had an unfortunate lack of a hot water heater. So...picture me, for 2 and 1/2 hours in a swimsuit being continually dunked in a giant tank of freezing cold water. I was so numb I was actually crying as I got dressed in the bathroom stall after my shift was over because putting clothes on hurt so badly.

I do not get paid well enough for that.